CHAPTER XVII
A FRUITLESS CHASE
THE surprise of Tom Coward was not diminished as the novel racecontinued. Twice through the open doors of the barn dashed the tworiders, their horses' hoofs slipping on the rough floor and almostthrowing the men from their seats. Both continued to maintain theirpositions, however, and would no sooner disappear from Tom's sight thanthey would be seen coming around the corner of the barn again, the youngAmerican lieutenant still in advance and the British officer in closepursuit.
Friend Nathan was standing in the doorway of his house, and, in spite ofhis peaceful professions, there was an eager expression upon his facewhich betrayed the fact that he was not an uninterested observer of thestrange contest. Tom had not moved from his position, and his excitementhad almost deprived him of the power of speech.
Again through the open doorways of the barn the riders had urged theirswiftly running horses, but as yet their relative positions had remainedunchanged. The British officer was leaning forward on his horse's neckand endeavoring to grasp the bridle of the young lieutenant's horse, butthe quick movements of the latter had prevented him, and the mad racecontinued.
As Lieutenant Gordon dashed around the corner of the barn, and for thefourth time prepared to enter the open door, Tom saw that the othermembers of the band were just entering the yard. The excited lad couldnot longer remain silent. His friend was beset by new perils and must bewarned.
"Look out! Look out!" shouted Tom.
Young Gordon looked up and for the first time beheld the increase in thenumber of his enemies. Without hesitating a moment, he turned his horsetoward the low fence and cleared it at a bound. Then, directly acrossthe open lot toward the woods in the distance he urged his trusty steed,and almost before the men in the yard perceived what had occurred, hehad placed a considerable distance between him and the barn.
The confusion, however, lasted but a moment, for, with a shout, severalof the men urged their horses forward, and, leaping the low fence,renewed the pursuit. Those who did not follow raised their guns anddischarged them at the fleeing officer; but either his movements weretoo swift, or their excitement prevented them from taking careful aim,for the bullets went wide of their mark, and in a very brief time theyoung lieutenant disappeared within the woods, and soon after hispursuers followed him.
"Thee didn't seem to catch him," said Nathan blandly to the men whoremained in the yard.
"They'll get him. They'll get him," replied the leader. "They'll soonrun him down, never you fear. But he's a bold fellow, there's no mistakeabout that. What did you call out to him for?" he added, turning sharplyto Tom.
"Did I call out to him?" replied Tom. "I don't just know what I did, Iwas so excited. I thought you had him."
"So I would, if it hadn't been for the barn floor."
Tom thought the barn floor was perhaps as much of a disadvantage to thepursued as to the pursuer, but he discreetly held his peace and said nomore.
"Now, old man, you can get us some breakfast. My men will be back herein no time with the young rebel, and will have all the better appetitebecause of their morning's work. You can feed us all, can't you?" saidthe officer.
"I have spoken to Rachel. Doubtless she will do her best for thee."
The men at once proceeded to place their horses in the barn and servethem freely from the Quaker's store. Then they entered the house andseated themselves at the table which Rachel had spread for them,although they first stationed one of their companions as guard.
For a time no one spoke, so busied were they in their occupation, andTom Coward was not one whit behind any of them. He was tired and hungry,and the breakfast was doubly welcome to him. Rachel moved quietly aboutthe room, her drab dress and broad white collar being in marked contrastto the brilliant uniforms of her self-invited guests.
"Old man," said the officer at last, "I wish you'd tell me how ithappened that that young rebel was here on your place. You weren'tsheltering him, were you?"
"Nay," replied Nathan. "In times like these, Friends are not prone toshelter any soldiers. Our guests are only those who come without anybidding of ours."
"Ha! ha!" laughed the officer. "I fancy you mean that as a reproach forus. Well, we'll pay you for our breakfast, never you fear about that.Your scruples don't carry you so far that you object to receiving areturn in good yellow or white metal, do they?"
"The laborer is ever worthy of his hire. I shall be thankful for anyequivalent it may seem good unto thee to bestow upon me."
"That's right, that's right. Trust a broad brim for that every time. I'mnot complaining, old man, I'm not complaining. You don't happen to knowjust where the rebel army is at present, do you?"
"It is reported that Washington is on the march for this very place.Even now he may be approaching."
"Do you know that?" inquired the officer in a lower tone.
"Nay. I know nothing of their movements. It is all of the current reportI am speaking to thee. I fear me that a man of peace is likely to sufferdouble ills between the two armies, for it is also reported that theBritish and their Hessian companions are also likely to march throughthis very region."
If the officer had glanced at the old Quaker he would have discoveredthat there was a very keen expression upon his face as he ventured thelast supposition. But as he did not look up it was all lost upon him,and perhaps if he had seen it, he would not have understood its meaning,since his host was ostensibly a man of peace.
"I'm not so sure of that," said the officer quietly. "We've come to lookover the land and report to Colonel Simcoe. What makes you think therebels are near here, and are likely to march this way?"
"I will tell thee truly. The young man whom your companions are pursuingslept last night in my barn. He informed me frankly that Washington wasto pass this way"--
"And fall on our army?" broke in the officer eagerly.
"That is the natural inference for thee to draw. It's a sad day for theFriends. They are ground between the upper and the nether millstones,for I understood thee to say that the British also were to comehither."
"You can understand what you please," replied the leader gruffly."You've given me the information I most desire and Colonel Simcoe wouldbe glad to reward you for it, but being, as you are, a man of peace, ofcourse you wouldn't be willing to take anything from a man whoseoccupation is blood letting. Hello! here's the guard!" he added, risingabruptly from the table as he spoke. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," replied the guard, "except that our men are returning fromthe woods."
"And did they catch the young rebel?"
"No, or at least he's not with them now."
All hurriedly left the table and rushed out into the yard, Tom alsogoing with them. The men could be seen returning across the lot, but itwas at once evident that the young lieutenant was not with them.
"What's the trouble? How was it that you let the slippery little rebelget away from you?" demanded the leader, as the soldiers once moreentered the yard.
"Simply because he could ride faster than we could," replied one of theband in a surly tone. "His horse was fresh and ours had been out allnight."
The officer was angry, but, after a few sharp words to his men, he badethem enter the kitchen and get their breakfast.
"Did thee find him?" inquired Nathan.
"No, we didn't find him. I'd chase him right into camp if it wasn't thatI must hurry back to the colonel with the word you've given me. You'resure about what you told me?"
"What did I tell thee?" inquired Nathan blandly.
"About the march of the rebels," replied the officer angrily. "I halfbelieve you're in league with them yourself, in spite of all yourwhining words. If I thought you were I'd leave your body for the crowsto pick."
"And is that the method which seemeth to thee to prove thou art right,and that I am no man of peace?"
"Oh, never mind, old man, never mind my words. Perhaps I'm a little toohard with you. This young rebel's getting away from us has pu
t me out oftemper. What I want to know is whether you believe what you said aboutthe rebels coming through Cranberry."
"I have given thee the words as they were given me. I am not in thecouncils of the 'rebels,' as it seemeth good to thee to call them, andcannot say more. It is for thee to judge, not me, who am a man of peaceand not familiar with the ways of warlike men."
By this time the men had finished their breakfast, and a hurriedconsultation followed. The decision at which they arrived was soonapparent when the leader approached Nathan, and, holding forth somesilver in his hand, said, "There, take that for the breakfast you'vegiven us."
"I thank thee," replied Nathan, accepting the money.
"Are you going back with us, lad?" said the officer, turning to Tom ashe spoke.
"No. You said all you wanted of me was to point out the way toCranberry."
"So I did, but if this old man speaks the truth,--and I'm inclined tothink he does,--you'll be better off with us than you will be to staybehind when the rebels are coming. You'll have a good horse to ride,too; you must not forget that."
"I think I'll stay. I'm not afraid of the rebels, and can find my wayall right." Tom's heart was beating rapidly, and the fear thatpermission for him to remain would not be granted was uppermost in histhoughts.
"Have it your own way, lad, have it your own way. I only spoke what Ithought was for your own best good."
He gave a few orders to his men, and in a brief time the band departed,riding swiftly up the road and soon disappearing from sight.
"This was not a bad morning's work, Friend Thomas," said Nathan, when atlast the men were gone, jingling the silver in his pocket as he spoke.
"It was a good deal better than I ever expected to have," replied Tom.
Neither of them realized, however, the full consequences, for Nathan'swords, in addition to what the officer had already discovered, causedhim to return in all haste with the information he had received toColonel Simcoe. That officer, upon receiving the word, which wascorroborated by other discoveries he had made, at once reported to SirHenry Clinton, and an immediate change in the plans of the British wasmade. The advance to the Raritan was speedily abandoned, the route tothe Highlands was at once chosen, and it was decided that the armyshould march by the way of Monmouth Court House. The battle of Monmouth,which soon followed, thus became possible, and that, with all itsconsequences to the struggling patriots, turned upon the informationwhich Colonel Simcoe had received, and which he speedily carried to hiscommander.
Upon such slight events do those which we sometimes call the greaterones turn. Perhaps as we grow older and wiser we shall come to perceivemore clearly the true relation which the so-called little things of lifebear to the greater ones. A very wise man once declared that "he who wasfaithful in the little affairs of life was very greatly faithful." Inany event, we have partially learned the lesson that it is a test oftrue greatness to be able to do little things well, and that the verybest evidence of a man's being able to do the greater things is that heis willing to do the smaller ones, as they come to him, faithfully andhonestly.
However, neither Nathan nor Tom was moralizing after this fashion whenthey entered the house after watching the departure of the Britishsoldiers. Tom then related all his recent experiences to Nathan, notomitting the story of Benzeor's misdeeds.
The old Quaker listened attentively, and it was apparent from hisfrequent expressions of anger that his interest in the success of theContinentals was not entirely banished by his peaceful professions.
"What thee needs now, friend Thomas," he said, when at last the lad'sstory was ended, "is a good rest. Rachel has a bed ready for thee."
Tom followed his friend to the room upstairs, and soon stretched himselfupon the bed. How grateful it seemed to the weary lad! For a moment hegazed at the four high posts, but soon everything was forgotten and hewas asleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but he was awakened by Nathan, whocalled to him and said, "Friend Thomas, there is some one below whodesires to see thee."
Tom leaped from the bed and followed the Quaker down the stairs,wondering who it was that wished to see him. There were confusedthoughts in his mind of the British officer and Benzeor, but he was notin the least prepared for the sight upon which he looked when he enteredthe room.
Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778 Page 17