My Lady of Doubt

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER X

  WITH MINUTE MEN

  I must have slept very heavily, the sleep of utter exhaustion, for Iawoke with my mind clear and body rested. The door of the shop remainedwide open, and Farrell sat there, his eyes upon the road without, an openbook upon his knees. As I moved slightly he instantly turned his facetoward me.

  "I began to fear I should have to arouse you, Major," he said, comingwithin. "You have slept soundly for six hours, an' we must be offpresently. First, however, we will have a bite to eat."

  He began to prepare the meal, while I bathed my face.

  "I was very tired," I explained, "but now am ready for any service. Whathas occurred since I lay down?"

  "Very little; Duval stopped a moment to report, an' two of my couriersrode past this way. We are going to have a goodly sized gatheringto-night, an' from all I hear will need every rifle. Grant's purpose is,as I supposed, to guard the forage train into Philadelphia. He expects tomeet them somewhere between Fellowship and Mount Laurel, an' the chancesare we shall have to fight both detachments. But fall to, man, an' we candiscuss all this as we eat."

  He talked freely enough while we remained there, but conversation veeredto the book he had been reading, and I learned little of his plans,except that he relied upon surprise, and swiftness of movement toovercome the decided advantage of numbers. After we mounted and rodeaway, scarcely a word was exchanged between us. I recall asking aquestion or two, but his answers did not encourage any attempt atprobing, and I consequently fell silent, urging my horse in the effort tokeep pace with his heavier mount. We rode straight across the country,avoiding the roads, and keeping under cover as much as possible, takingadvantage of every depression of the surface. Farrell knew every inch ofthe way, and his watchful eyes scanned the summit of the ridges withconstant vigilance. Just before dusk we overtook a dozen horsemen in thebreaks of a creek bottom, roughly dressed fellows, heavily armed, ridingin the same direction as ourselves, and, after the exchange of a word ortwo, the whole party of us jogged along together. Others straggled in,singly, or by small groups, as darkness closed about, until we formedquite a respectable company. It was rather a silent, weird procession,scarcely a word being spoken, and no sound heard, other than the dullreverberation of unshod hoofs on the soft turf. To me, glancing back fromwhere I held position beside Farrell, they seemed like spectral figures,with no rattle of accoutrements, no glimmer of steel, no semblance ofuniform. Yet my heart warmed to the knowledge that these were no holidaywarriors, but grim fighting men. I had seen the faces, some boyish,others graybeards, and had read in them all sternness of purpose. Eachhand gripped a brown rifle, and the fingers that met mine were rough andhard from toil. No man among them had asked me a question; with Farrell'ssimple statement there had come the hand-grip, the eyes looking straightinto my own; the silent acceptance of me as comrade. It all served todrive into my consciousness the fact that these were men seeking nothingfor themselves, but ready to battle and die for the cause they hadespoused. They had left their ploughs in the furrow to strike a blow forliberty.

  It was an hour or more after dark when our compact little body ofhorsemen rode down a gully into a broad creek bottom, and then advancedthrough a fringe of trees to the edge of the stream. There was a youngmoon in the sky yielding a spectral light, barely making those facesnearest me visible. At the summit of the clay bank, shadowed by theforest growth encircling them, were the others who had gathered at thiswar rendezvous, the majority dismounted, holding their horses inreadiness for action. As we rode in among them neighbors clasped handssilently, but the words exchanged were few. Farrell forced his horsethrough the press toward where a tall figure sat stiff in the saddle, andmy own horse followed unguided.

  "A goodly turn-out, Duval," he commented briefly. "What was the numberbefore we came?"

  "Forty-seven rifles," the Lieutenant's voice nasal, and high pitched."The men from Orchard and Springdale are not in yet. How many arrivedwith you?"

  "Twenty; ample for our purpose, even if the others fail us. This is MajorLawrence of the Maryland Line."

  I shook his long, thin hand, marking the iron grip of the fingers.

  "We'll introduce you to some typical Jersey fighting to-night, Major," hesaid genially. "We have a style all our own."

  "I had supposed I had witnessed all styles."

  "We'll see; the difference is that every man among us has some outrage torevenge. Our quarrel is a personal one against thieves and murderers.What is the programme, Farrell?"

  "To intercept Delavan's raiders. They will be along the main road withinthe hour from all reports. He has a wagon train loaded with stuffgathered up between Medford an' Mount Holly, together with a considerabledrove of cattle and some horses."

  "And what force?"

  "About fifty men originally, but reinforced this afternoon with as manymore to help guard the train into Philadelphia."

  "Mounted?"

  "The reinforcements were, but the original foragers were afoot; they wereHessians; the others Grant's company of Queen's Rangers."

  "Glory be to God!" exclaimed a voice near at hand. "Did ye hear that,lads? It's Dutchmen and Tories we're against to-night. Be Gorry! Iwouldn't have missed the chance of this shindy fer the best farm inCamden."

  There was a low growl from the cluster of men, and an ominous movement ofbodies pressing closer. Duval laughed mirthlessly.

  "The bloodhound takes the scent," he said grimly. "God help those poordevils when we cut the leash, Farrell. Where do you propose meetingthem?"

  "Across there in the bluffs," pointing, "where the road turns in betweenthe high clay banks. We'll leave our horses here, an' cross on foot. Isthat the right plan, boys?"

  There was a murmur of acquiescence, a few questions, and then the silenceof approval. It was evident these minute men were under small discipline,and their officers led only by force of character. Without orders thehorses were led away, tied securely in the black depths of the woods, andthe men came straggling back, rifles in hand, grouping themselves alongthe edge of the stream. There was no attempt at military formation, butDuval straightened them out so as to count the number present.

  "Sixty-nine, all told," he announced briefly. "All right, boys, come on,and keep your powder out of the water."

  It was firm bottom, but the water rose above the waist, with sufficientcurrent so we had to brace against it in mid-stream. We trailed drippingup the eastern bank, coming out upon a well-travelled road. A hundredfeet beyond was the cleft through the clay, and there Farrell halted us,dividing the men into two parties. Under his orders they disappeared likemagic, the silent night engulfing them completely. The three of us,Duval, Farrell, and myself, alone remained in the deserted road.

  "Duval," said the blacksmith quietly, "you an' the Major feel your wayalong to the top, an' discover what is happening. I'll stay here, an'take care of the boys."

  The road was a gradual rise, the clay packed hard under foot, but fromthe summit we could look away for some distance over a level country,dimly revealed under the new moon. There was nothing in sight, and nosound disturbed the solitude. We sat down on a bunch of turf, rifles inhand, to wait patiently, our eyes scanning the distance.

  "Who are those fellows back there?" I questioned at last, made nervous bythe silence.

  "The boys in the gulch? Jersey militiamen," he explained shortly. "Yousee there's some of us that can't get away all the time, because of thewomen and children, and the farm work. Besides, regular soldiering don'tjust appeal to our sort. So we do our fighting round home in our own way.However, the most of us manage to have a hand in the real thing once in awhile even at that. We were over at Germantown, and down at Brandywine.Farrell's got a commission, but the rest of us are taking our chances.It's neighbor against neighbor. Whatever we've got left has been held atthe point of the rifle. We're doing our share in this war, an' Washingtonknows it. Over there to the east 'Red' Fagin, Old Man Kelly, an' theirgangs of Pine Robbers, are making the fields red; sometimes
they get downthis far raiding the farms, but mostly, we're fighting foragers out ofPhiladelphia, and they're not much better. Half the houses in thiscountry have been burned, and mercy isn't very common on either side.Those lads yonder are not pretty soldiers to look at, but they're wolvesto fight, and hungry for it."

  "They are called on whenever Farrell wishes?"

  "Well, yes; those come who can. They're not always the same bunch. Yousee Farrell covers quite a bit of country, with a lieutenant in eachsection who is in touch with the neighbors there. I belong in Camden, anddon't go outside very often, but there is a sort of organization all theway between here and New York. Whenever there is a big fight on, the mostof us get into it somehow. Washington counts on us in a pinch, but mostlywe're raiding or cutting off British supplies. Say, Major, isn't thatthose fellows coming?"

  He pointed into the east, in which direction the road ran, barelyrevealed by the faint light of the moon for perhaps a hundred yards. Ilooked eagerly, and could dimly distinguish a vague shadow on the summitof a distant rise of land. The shadow moved, however, and as we bothstared in uncertainty, there came to our ears the far-off crack of awhip. We drew farther back against the bank, pausing to make sure therewas no deception. One by one we could perceive those vague shadowstopping the rise and disappearing. I counted ten, convinced they werecovered wagons, and then the night wind brought to us the creaking ofwheels, and the sound of a man's voice. Duval's hand gripped my arm, andto the signal we crept back beyond the crest, and then hurried down towhere Farrell had concealed his men. He was waiting us in the middle ofthe road, his short broad figure almost laughable in the moon shadow.

  "Well, are they coming?"

  "Just over the crest," replied Duval brusquely. "I counted fifteenwagons."

  "Quite a convoy, an' worth fighting for. Take the left, Duval; Major,come with me."

  We drew aside under the protection of a boulder, from where we could seeclearly to the top of the ridge. Only for a moment was there silence, themen all about us lying low in their coverts, breathless and intent. Therewas a faint ripple of water to our rear where the stream ran, and arustle of leaves overhead in the slight breeze. A rabbit, or some strayanimal of the field, darted through the underbrush. Then we heard horses'hoofs and the murmur of approaching voices.