by John V. Lane
CHAPTER XIX
RODNEY TO THE RESCUE
It would not be true to say that Rodney Allison was not nervous as hegripped the handle of the big pistol he drew from its holster, andcocked it.
Whether the men were armed he did not know. If they failed to meet thetwo riders they sought they might conclude one horse would be betterthan none and attack him. Indeed, this seemed very probable; besides,if they should attack the other parties, the boy resolved he wouldtake a hand in the affair.
A little farther on, the road on which he was riding crossed thehighway leading to Roscome's. The men probably were waiting at thecorner. He decided to ride slowly and await developments.
In event of attack he would spur Nat directly against them and use thepistol!
The frogs were croaking in the nearby meadow. The sound jarred on histense nerves.
"I say, sir, be this the road to Occoquan?"
They had met some one! Rodney stopped his horse and listened. A horsewhinnied, and Nat lifted his head to reply when a touch from the spurchanged his mind.
A clear voice rang out, "Back, you knaves! Take your hands off thatbridle!"
A girl's scream and sounds of a struggle came to the lad's ears, andhe spurred ahead.
Near the corners of the roads, though now dusk had fallen, hediscerned two riders on horses that were rearing and plunging. One ofthe riders, a man, was plying his whip over the head of the fellow whoclung to his bridle; on the other horse was a girl struggling with arascal who was trying to pull her from the animal's back. Rodneyturned his attention to this one.
Not daring to fire, through fear of hitting the girl, he rode straightat the miscreant and, clubbing his pistol, struck him over the headwhat proved to be but a slight blow, for the man dodged, but his holdwas broken and he staggered back, and Nat trampled over him. Hisaccomplice, seeing this, fled. The girl hung by the side of her horse,one foot in the stirrup and both hands clutching his mane. Thoroughlyfrightened, he plunged ahead and ran wildly down the road.
"She will be dashed to death!" was the thought which flashed throughRodney's mind and, wheeling his horse, he spurred after the fleeingthoroughbred, the girl's companion galloping behind.
The spirit of a racing ancestry, and the cruel rowels, drove Nat closeon the flanks of the runaway. Could he overtake and pass him?
The girl was unable to regain her seat, and at every leap of her horsewas tossed, now almost touching the ground, and again almost as highas the horse's back. Could she retain her grip until Rodney mightreach the bridle rein?
Every moment the boy expected to see her dashed to the ground andtrampled to death under the hoofs of the running horses. He shut hiseyes for an instant, and then urged faithful Nat to the utmost, andcould feel his muscles respond to the strain.
Inch by inch, Nat gained on the runaway. The boy leaned far out toseize the loose bridle rein. He could not quite reach it; another footand he would have it within his grasp. Ah! Now he gripped it andpulled both horses to a stop, crying, "Are you hurt?"
"I--I'm not--sure. Not seriously, I think; somewhat like DoctorAtterbury's prescriptions, 'well shaken before taken.'"
It was Lisbeth's voice!
"Steady, Nat. Here, let me help. Isn't your ankle wrenched? If I'dknown who it was I'd been scared worse than I was."
"Why, Rodney Allison! Where in the world did you come from? I waswishing some knight errant would happen along to stop Firefly; but Inever imagined you in that role. I--I think you'll have to help me up,my ankle is beginning to complain at the rough treatment."
Rodney lifted Lisbeth into her saddle just as her escort and Black Tomrode up.
"Mr. Enderwood, this is my old playmate, Rodney Allison. He and Ialways were getting into scrapes. I'm going to ask him to sell Nat tofather so my escorts can have as good a horse as Firefly. The one youhave, Mr. Enderwood, has seen his best days and was no match for mine.But for you, Nat, I should have had a longer ride than--would havebeen agreeable." There was a little catch in her voice.
"So Nat gets all the glory and Enderwood is excused for being behind,"thought Rodney, not altogether pleased, and he scarcely heard the olddarky saying by way of apology: "I suttinly hab no 'scuse on 'count o'hoss. Don' put no nose front o' yo', Moleskin," he said, patting thesleek neck of the fiery hunter he rode. "I'se 'lowin' Tom's room'sbetter'n his comp'ny, an' was sojerin' along. But I'se boun' ter say,Marse Rodney, I couldn' done better myse'f."
"That's Rodney's way of doing things, you know, Tom," said Lisbeth,and the boy's feelings were somewhat soothed by the balm in her words."Having rescued the maid," she said, turning to him, "it's now yourduty to return with her to the castle, and explain to her papa that itwas none of her fault, and afford us all opportunity to thank youproperly, while Aunt Betty gets out her bandages."
"I thank you, but, you see, I've made arrangements to stay over thenight at Roscomes' and they are expecting me. I supped there and thenthought I wanted to see the view from the hill, once more. Now I mustreturn."
"So you were going through Pryndale without calling on your oldfriends."
"I shall be most happy to call on the morrow if I may be permitted,"was Rodney's response, and he was really surprised at his readyreply.
"We ought to ride as far as Roscomes' with him," said Lisbeth, and,because of the dusk, they could not see how pale and drawn was herface.
"Those villains will have no stomach for further trouble, I reckon,and I'm sure you need Aunt Betty and the bandages more than I do theescort. I hope to see you in the morning, none the worse forto-night's experience. Good night," saying which, he rode on toRoscome's. His mind was in a whirl and, now the danger and excitementwere past, he felt very weak, and trembled when he thought ofLisbeth's peril; yet he was conscious that he had borne himself well.Then he fell to wondering who young Enderwood might be. Rodney hadonly seen in the dim light that he was young, not much older thanhimself, and apparently a gentleman. Enderwood? Why, he must be SquireEnderwood's son, from Norfolk. If so, he had both family and fortune,and somehow the idea didn't please Rodney, though why should hebegrudge young Enderwood such an inheritance?
The following morning Rodney set out for "The Hall." He felt he couldill spare the time but nevertheless was glad of the opportunity,though he dreaded the meeting with the squire. His father might bealive at that moment but for the injustice of Lisbeth's father.
The sun shone brightly but the air was clear and cold. From a lightrain of the previous night icicles had formed on the trees and gleamedlike so many jewels. It seemed to the boy as though he had dreamed along dream of wild forests, peopled with Indians, and was now awakeand at home.
When Rodney arrived at "The Hall" he was met by the squire, who cameto him with outstretched hands, saying, "My boy, you are a brave lad,and have placed me under greater obligations than I can ever hope torepay. I will write your father and tell him how grateful I am, andhow proud he should be of you."
"My father is dead, sir; he was killed in the battle at PointPleasant."
"You--you--er--I'm astounded! I hadn't heard a word. Why, only theother day I was thinking of him."
The unmistakable signs of grief in the squire's face somewhat softenedRodney's feelings. "You know Charlottesville did not afford father theopportunity to provide for his family as he wished and so he went overthe mountains to take up land. When I was on my way to him I wascaptured by the Indians and held for a year. Meanwhile father,thinking I was dead, joined the army under General Lewis."
"I never should have let him go away. I've wished him back every daysince he went away," and then the squire turned and walked to thewindow, where Mogridge had watched the effect of his plot and seenDavid Allison turn his back and walk away never to return.
At this moment Enderwood came into the room. He was a fine lookingfellow of nearly twenty, straight and rather tall, with dark hair andeyes, and had an air of breeding. Greeting Rodney cordially, as helooked at him keenly, he said, "Aunt Betty requested me to tell yo
uthat Lisbeth cannot leave her room. I fear her ankle is badly sprainedand she was much shaken. She will regret not seeing you thismorning."
"Yes," said the squire, turning from the window, "my little girlsuffered more than was thought at the time, but I hope she will be upin a few days. Meanwhile you are to make 'The Hall' your home. I'msure that you and Lawrence will find plenty with which to amuseyourselves."
"Thank you, Squire Danesford; but I must go on. I came out of my wayfor the sake of riding through Pryndale and have already lost a day. Ifeared your daughter was hurt more than she would admit. She had anawful experience. I thought she would be dashed to pieces before herhorse could be stopped."
"Don't speak of it, please. I haven't slept for the night. But,surely, your business isn't so urgent that you must away at once. Iwant to hear about your mother. You know she and I lived on adjoiningplantations when we were children and were playmates. Now, my boy, Iwant you to bring your mother back to Pryndale. You should never haveleft it."
"It was leave or starve," were the words on Rodney's tongue; but hedid not speak them, and ever after was glad that he hadn't. Instead hesaid, "I will tell her of your kind invitation. She was very fond ofher home here. You are very kind. Please give my regards to Lisbethand say that I regret not seeing her and hope for her speedyrecovery."
And so, despite the squire's urging that he remain, Rodney set out onhis journey home, less satisfied with himself and the promises for hisfuture than he had been the night before.
The lad was, however, to have little time in the succeeding months forreflections, pleasant or otherwise. No sooner had he delivered thedispatches he was carrying to Mr. Jefferson than he was off again onsimilar missions.
In that early spring of 1775 Virginia was in a ferment. Most of theleading men believed that war was coming, and bent their energies toplanning and so shaping affairs that the colony might be ready for it.Of this Rodney learned enough in his travels to appreciate the gravityof the situation, and the importance of vigilance and faithfulness onhis part. He received many compliments from his employer and deservedthem.
The position of those who favoured the king became daily moreunpleasant. Not only had they lost influence, but were made to feelthat they were marked men, looked on by even their old neighbours withsuspicion. Soon they were to be called traitors to their faces and toknow that their lives were in peril, for always those may be found intimes of excitement to seek excuse for wreaking vengeance on enemies,doing it in the name of the cause that is popular.
When the choleric royal governor, Lord Dunmore, dissolved the House ofBurgesses he accomplished nothing save to increase the bitternessalready existing. The Virginia representatives met and chose delegatesto the General Congress to meet in Philadelphia, and now Virginia wasto have a convention of its own, and hold it at Richmond, then avillage of not more than nine hundred white inhabitants, and there, inthe fire of his eloquence, Patrick Henry was to fuse the differingviews into one grand purpose and arouse the people to the fact thatwar was indeed approaching.
Rodney Allison, whose duties, much to his delight, had taken him tothe convention, was one of the spectators of that memorable scene whenPatrick Henry spoke. Ten years before, in the House of Burgesses,Henry had told the awestruck delegates what he thought of the infamousStamp Act, and that, if what he said were treason, they could make themost of it. Now, he favoured raising volunteer soldiers in eachcounty, such as the Minute Men who had done such valiant work inMassachusetts.
The opposition to these resolutions aroused him, and he rose to reply,and his words seared his views upon the minds of the delegates, whosat motionless like men in a trance. It seemed to Rodney, when thelast word was spoken, as though he had not breathed from the momentthe orator began. The speaker's face seemed to become luminous and hiseyes blazed and the boy shivered as though with a chill. Certain ofthe immortal sentences he never forgot and as they were spoken he sawthem in his excited imagination as though written in letters of fire:"Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed by a kiss," referring to theking's promises. "In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fondhope of reconciliation." "There is no longer any room for hope." "Thewar is inevitable! and let it come!" "The next gale that sweeps fromthe North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms!" At theclose came those words as from a prophet with a face of flame: "Giveme liberty or give me death!" and when he sat down his listeners wereready to rise and declare war on the instant.
Not all, for among those who heard were some who, while they sat asthough under a spell, nevertheless were resolved past conversion tostand by their king. Among them Rodney saw Squire Danesford elbowinghis way through the door, his face purple with rage, and, onceoutside, he mounted his horse and rode away at a mad gallop, followedby Black Tom.
The convention over, the delegates went to their homes to make readyfor the impending conflict. The war spirit was abroad throughout theOld Dominion, and young Allison found Nat unequal to the riding he wasrequired to do and was furnished with another horse. Volunteers, withsuch arms as they could procure, drilled daily and some among themwere eager for the fray to begin; but, when once it was begun, not afew lost much of their ardour.
As Patrick Henry had predicted, the next gale sweeping from the Northwas to bring to the waiting ears of the Virginians the clash ofresounding arms, of the shots fired by the farmers in homespun frombehind stone walls and fences, all the way from Lexington to Boston,into the ranks of panic-stricken British soldiers. The day after thatevent, April 20th, though before the news of Lexington reachedVirginia, the minute men of the Old Dominion were to shoulder theirguns in defiance of British authority.