Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory Ascendency

by John Pendleton Kennedy

  CHAPTER LVII.

  THE BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN.

  They closed full fast on every side, No slackness there was found And many a gallant gentleman Lay gasping on the ground.

  O dread! it was a grief to see, And likewise for to hear The cries of men lying in their gore And scattered here and there.--_Chevy Chase._

  Every corps was now in motion, and the two flanking divisions were soonlost to view in the intervening forest. An incident of some interest toour story makes it necessary that we should, for a moment, follow thetrack of Cleveland in his march upon the left side of the mountain.

  The principal road of travel northwards extended along the valley onthis side; and upon this road Cleveland and Williams conducted theirmen, until they arrived at a point sufficiently remote to enable them,by ascending the height, to place themselves in Ferguson's rear. Theyhad just reached this point when they encountered a picquet of theenemy, which, after a few shots, retired hastily up the mountain.

  The little outpost had scarcely begun to give ground, before the leadingcompanies of the Whigs had their attention drawn to the movements of asmall party of horsemen who at that moment appeared in sight upon theroad, some distance in advance. They were approaching the Americancolumn; and, as if taken by surprise at the appearance of this force,set spurs to their horses and made an effort to ride beyond the reach ofCleveland's fire, whilst they took a direction up the mountain towardsFerguson's stronghold. From the equipment of these individuals, it mighthave been inferred that they were two gentlemen of some distinctionconnected with the royal army, attended by their servants, and now aboutarriving, after a long journey, at the British camp. The first washabited in the uniform of an officer, was well mounted, and displayed alight and active figure, which appeared to advantage in the dexterousmanagement of his horse. The second was a gentleman in a plain ridingcostume, of slender and well-knit proportions, and manifestly older thanhis companion. He rode a powerful and spirited horse, with a confidenceand command not inferior to those of his associates. The others inattendance, from their position in the rear, and from the heavyportmanteaus that encumbered their saddles, we might have no difficultyin conjecturing to be menials in the service of the two first.

  The course taken by this party brought them obliquely across the rangeof the fire of the Whigs.

  "It is a general officer and his aide," exclaimed one of the subalternsin the advance. "Ho there! Stand. You are my prisoners!"

  "Spur, spur, and away! For God's sake, fly!" shouted the younger of thetwo horsemen to his companion, as he dashed the rowels into his steedand fled up the mountain. "Push for the top--one moment more and we areout of reach!"

  "Stop them, at all hazards!" vociferated Cleveland, the instant his eyefell upon them. "Quick, lads--level your pieces--they are messengersfrom Cornwallis. Rein up, or I fire!" he called aloud after the flyingcavalcade.

  The appeal and the threat were unheeded. A score of men left the ranksand ran some distance up the mountain side, and their shots whistledthrough the forest after the fugitives. One of the attendants was seento fall, and his horse to wheel round and run back, with a frightenedpace, to the valley. The scarlet uniform of the younger horseman,conspicuous through the foliage some distance up the mountain, showedthat he had escaped. His elder comrade, when the smoke cleared away, wasseen also beyond the reach of Cleveland's fire; but his altered pace andhis relaxed seat in his saddle, made it apparent that he had receivedsome hurt. This was confirmed when, still nearer to the summit, thestranger was seen to fall upon his horse's neck, and thence to be liftedto the ground by three or four soldiers who had hastened to his relief.

  These incidents scarcely occupied more time in their performance than Ihave taken in the narrative; and all reflection upon them, for thepresent, was lost in the uproar and commotion of the bloody scene thatsucceeded.

  Meanwhile, Campbell and Shelby, each at the head of his men in thecentre division of the army, steadily commenced the ascent of themountain. A long interval ensued, in which nothing was heard but thetramp of the soldiers and a few words of almost whispered command, asthey scaled the height; and it was not until they had nearly reached thesummit that the first peal of battle broke upon the sleeping echoes ofthe mountain.

  Campbell here deployed into line, and his men strode briskly upwardsuntil they had come within musket-shot of the British regulars, whosesharp and prolonged volleys, at this instant, suddenly burst forth fromthe crest of the hill. Peal after peal rattled along the mountain side,and volumes of smoke, silvered by the light of the sun, rolled over andenveloped the combatants.

  When the breeze had partially swept away this cloud, and opened glimpsesof the battle behind it, the troops of Campbell were seen recoilingbefore an impetuous charge of the bayonet, in which Ferguson himself ledthe way. A sudden halt by the retreating Whigs, and a stern frontsteadfastly opposed to the foe, checked the ardor of his pursuit at anearly moment, and, in turn, he was discovered retiring towards hisoriginal ground, hotly followed by the mountaineers. Again, the samevigorous onset from the royalists was repeated, and again the shakenbands of Campbell rallied and turned back the rush of battle towards thesummit. At last, panting and spent with the severe encounter, bothparties stood for a space eyeing each other with deadly rage, andwaiting only to gather breath for the renewal of the strife.

  At this juncture, the distant firing heard from either flank furnishedevidence that Sevier and Cleveland had both come in contact with theenemy. The uprising of smoke above the trees showed the seat of thecombat to be below the summit on the mountain sides, and that the enemyhad there half-way met his foe; whilst the shouts of the soldiers,alternating between the parties of either army, no less distinctlyproclaimed the fact that, at these remote points, the field wasdisputed with bloody resolution and various success.

  It would overtask my poor faculty of description, to give my reader evena faint picture of this rugged battle-field. During the pause of thecombatants of the centre, Campbell and Shelby were seen riding along theline, and by speech and gesture encouraging their soldiers to still moredetermined efforts. Little need was there for exhortation; rage seemedto have refreshed the strength of the men, who, with loud and fiercehuzzas, rushed again to the encounter. They were met with a defiance notless eager than their own; and, for a time, the battle was againobscured under the thick haze engendered by the incessant discharges offire-arms. From this gloom, a yell of triumph was sometimes heard, asmomentary success inspired those who struggled within; and the frequenttwinkle of polished steel glimmering through the murky atmosphere, andthe occasional apparition of a speeding horseman, seen for an instant ashe came into the clear light, told of the dreadful earnestness and zealwith which the unseen hosts had now joined in conflict. The impressionof this contact was various. Parts of each force broke before theirantagonists; and in those spots where the array of the fight might bediscerned through the shade of the forest or the smoke of battle, bothroyalists and Whigs were found, at the same instant, to have driven backdetached fragments of their opponents. Foemen were mingled hand to hand,through and among their adverse ranks; and for a time no conjecturemight be indulged as to the side to which victory would turn.

  The flanking detachments seemed to have fallen into the same confusion,and might have been seen retreating and advancing upon the rough slopesof the mountain, in partisan bodies, separated from their lines; thusgiving to the scene an air of bloody riot, more resembling the suddeninsurrection of mutineers from the same ranks, than the orderly war oftrained soldiers.

  Through the din and disorder of this fight, it is fit that I should taketime to mark the wanderings of Galbraith Robinson, whose exploits thisday would not ill deserve the pen of Froissart. The doughty sergeanthad, for a time, retained his post in the ranks of the Amherst Rangers,and with them had travelled towards the mountain top, close in the rearof Campbell's line. But when the troops had recoiled before the frequentcharges of the royalists, finding his
station, at best, but that of aninactive spectator, he made no scruple of deserting his companions andtrying his fortune on the field in such form of adventure as best suitedhis temper. With no other weapon than his customary rifle, he stood hisground when others retreated; and saw the ebb and flow of "flight andchase" swell round him, according to the varying destiny of the day. Inthese difficulties, it was his good fortune to escape unhurt; a piece ofluck that may, perhaps, be attributed to the coolness with which heeither galloped over an adversary or around him, as the emergencyrendered most advisable.

  In the midst of this busy occupation, at a moment when one of therefluxes of battle brought him almost to the summit, he descried a smallparty of British dragoons, stationed some distance in the rear ofFerguson's line, whose detached position seemed to infer some dutyunconnected with the general fight. In the midst of these, he thought herecognised the figure and dress of one familiar to his eye. The personthus singled out by the sergeant's glance stood bare-headed upon aprojecting mass of rock, apparently looking with an eager gaze towardsthe distant combat. No sooner did the conjecture that this might beArthur Butler flash across his thought, than he turned his steed backupon the path by which he had ascended, and rode with haste towards theRangers.

  "Stephen Foster," he said, as he galloped up to the lieutenant, and drewhis attention by a tap of the hand upon his shoulder, "I have businessfor you, man--you are but wasting your time here--pick me out ahalf-dozen of your best fellows and bring them with you after me.Quick--Stephen--quick!"

  The lieutenant of the Rangers collected the desired party and rode afterthe sergeant, who now conducted this handful of men with as muchrapidity as the broken character of the ground allowed, by a circuit fora considerable distance along the right side of the mountain, until theyreached the top. The point at which they gained the summit brought thembetween Ferguson's line and the dragoons, who, it was soon perceived,were the party charged with the custody of Butler, and who had been thusdetached in the rear for the more safe guardianship of the prisoner.Horse Shoe's manoeuvre had completely cut them off from their friendsin front, and they had no resource but to defend themselves against thethreatened assault, or fly towards the parties who were at this momentengaged with the flanking divisions of the Whigs. They were taken bysurprise--and Horse Shoe, perceiving the importance of an immediateattack, dashed onwards along the ridge of the mountain with precipitatespeed, calling out to his companions to follow. In a moment the dragoonswere engaged in a desperate pell-mell with the Rangers.

  "Upon them, Stephen! Upon them bravely, my lads! Huzza for Major Butler!Fling the major across your saddle--the first that reaches him," shoutedthe sergeant with a voice that was heard above all the uproar of battle."What ho--James Curry!" he cried out, as soon as he detected thepresence of his old acquaintance in this throng; "stand your ground, ifyou are a man!"

  The person to whom this challenge was directed had made an effort toescape towards a party of his friends, whom he was about summoning tohis aid; and in the attempt had already ridden some distance into thewood, whither the sergeant had eagerly followed him.

  "Ah ha, old Truepenny, are you there?" exclaimed Curry, turning shortupon his pursuer, and affecting to laugh as if in scorn. "Horse ShoeRobinson, well met!" he added sternly, "I have not seen a better sightto-day than that fool's head of yours upon this hill. No, not even whenjust now Patrick Ferguson sent your yelping curs back to hide themselvesbehind the trees."

  "Come on, James!" cried Horse Shoe, "I have no time to talk. We have anold reckoning to settle, which, perhaps, you mought remember. I am a manof my word; and, besides, I have set my eye upon Major Butler," headded, with a tone and look that were both impressed with the fiercepassion of the scene around him.

  "The devil blast you, and Major Butler to boot!" exclaimed Curry, rousedby Horse Shoe's air of defiance. "To it, bully! It shall be short workbetween us, and bloody," he shouted, as he discharged a pistol-shot atthe sergeant's breast; which failing to take effect, he flung the weaponupon the ground, brandished his sword, and spurred immediately againsthis challenger. The sweep of the broadsword fell upon the barrel ofHorse Shoe's uplifted rifle, and in the next instant the broad hand ofour lusty yeoman had seized the trooper by the collar and dragged himfrom his horse. The two soldiers came to the ground, locked in a mutualembrace; and, for a brief moment, a desperate trial of strength wasexhibited in the effort to gain their feet.

  "I have you there," said Robinson, as at length, with a flushed cheek,quick breath, and blood-shot eye, he rose from the earth and shook thedragoon from him, who fell backwards on his knee. "Curse you, JamesCurry, for a fool and villain! You almost drive me, against my will, tothe taking of your life. I don't want your blood. You are beaten, man,and must say so. I grant you quarter upon condition--"

  "Look to yourself! I ask no terms from you," interrupted Curry, assuddenly springing to his feet, he now made a second pass, which wasswung with such unexpected vigor at the head of his adversary, thatHorse Shoe had barely time to catch the blow, as before, upon his rifle.The broadsword was broken by the stroke, and one of the fragments of theblade struck the sergeant upon the forehead, inflicting a wound thatcovered his face with blood. Horse Shoe reeled a step or two from hisground, and clubbing the rifle, as it is called, by grasping the barreltowards the muzzle, he paused but an instant to dash the blood from hisbrow with his hand, and then, with one lusty sweep, to which his suddenanger gave both precision and energy, he brought the piece full upon thehead of his foe, with such fatal effect as to bury the lock in thetrooper's brain, whilst the stock was shattered into splinters. Curry,almost without a groan, fell dead across a ledge of rock at his feet.

  "The grudge is done, and the fool has met his desarvings," was HorseShoe's brief comment upon the event, as he gazed sullenly, for aninstant, upon the dead corpse. He had no time to tarry. The rest of hisparty were still engaged with the troopers of the guard, who nowstruggled to preserve the custody of their prisoner. The bridle-rein ofCaptain Peter had been caught by one of the Rangers, and the good steedwas now quickly delivered up to his master, who, flinging himself againinto his saddle, rushed into the throng of combatants. The fewdragoons, dispirited by the loss of their leader, and stricken withpanic at this strenuous onset, turned to flight, leaving Butler in themidst of his friends.

  "God bless you, major!" shouted Robinson, as he rode up to his oldcomrade, who, unarmed, had looked upon the struggle with an interestcorresponding to the stake he had in the event. "Up, man--here, springacross the pommel. Now, boys, down the mountain, for your lives! Huzza,huzza! we have won him back!" he exclaimed, as seizing Butler's arm, helifted him upon the neck of Captain Peter, and bounded away at fullspeed towards the base of the mountain, followed by Foster and hisparty.

  The reader may imagine the poignancy of Mildred's emotions as she satbeside Allen Musgrove and his daughter on the knoll, and watched thebusy and stirring scene before her. The centre division of the assailingarmy was immediately in her view, on the opposite face of the mountain,and no incident of the battle in this quarter escaped her notice. Shecould distinctly perceive the motions of the Amherst Rangers, to whomshe turned her eyes with a frequent and eager glance, as the corps withwhich her brother Henry was associated; and when the various fortune ofthe fight disclosed to her the occasional retreat of her friends beforethe vigorous sallies of the enemy, or brought to her ear the renewed andangry volleys of musketry, she clenched Mary Musgrove's arm with anervous grasp, and uttered short and anxious ejaculations that showedthe terror of her mind.

  "I see Mister Henry, yet," said Mary, as Campbell's troops rallied fromthe last shock, and again moved towards the summit. "I see him plainly,ma'am--for I know his green dress, and caught the glitter of his brassbugle in the sun. And there now--all is smoke again. Mercy, how stubbornare these men! And there is Mister Henry once more--near the top. He issafe, ma'am."

  "How earnestly," said Mildred, unconsciously speaking aloud as shesurveyed the scene, "Oh, how earn
estly do I wish this battle was done! Iwould rather, Mr. Musgrove, be in the midst of yonder crowd of angrymen, could I but have their recklessness, than here in safety, to betortured with my present feelings."

  "In God is our trust, madam," replied the miller. "His arm is abroadover the dangerous paths, for a shield and buckler to them that puttheir trust in him. Ha! there is Ferguson's white horse, rushing, with adangling rein and empty saddle, down the mountain, through Campbell'sranks: the rider has fallen; and there, madam--there, look on it!--is awhite flag waving in the hands of a British officer. The fight is done.Hark, our friends are cheering with a loud voice!"

  "Thank Heaven--thank Heaven!" exclaimed Mildred as she sprang upon herfeet; "It is even so!"

  The loud huzzas of the troops rose upon the air; the firing ceased; theflag of truce fluttered in the breeze, and the confederated bands of themountaineers, from every quarter of the late battle, were seen hurryingtowards the crest of the mountain, and mingling amongst the ranks of theconquered foe. Again and again, the clamorous cheering of the victorsbroke forth from the mountain-top, and echoed along the neighboringvalleys.

  During this wild clamor and busy movement, a party of horsemen wereseen, through the occasional intervals of the low wood that skirted thevalley on the right, hastening from the field with an eager swiftnesstowards the spot where Mildred and her companions were stationed.

  As they swept along the base of the mountain, and approached the knoll,they were lost to view behind the projecting angles of the low hillsthat formed the ravine, through which, my reader is aware, the road heldits course. When they re-appeared it was in ascending the abruptacclivity of the knoll, and within fifty paces of the party on the topof it.

  It was now apparent that the approaching party consisted of StephenFoster and three or four of the Rangers led by Horse Shoe Robinson, withButler still seated before him, as when the sergeant first caught him upin the fight. These were at the same moment overtaken by Henry Lindsay,who had turned back from the mountain at the first announcement ofvictory, to bring the tidings to his sister.

  Mildred's cheek grew deadly pale, and her frame shook, as the cavalcaderushed into her presence.

  "There--take him!" cried Horse Shoe, with an effort to laugh, but whichseemed to be half converted into a quaver by the agitation of hisfeelings, as, springing to the ground, he swung Butler from the horse,with scarce more effort than he would have used in handling a child;"take him, ma'am. I promised myself to-day, that I'd give him to you.And, now, you've got him. That's a good reward for all your troubles.God bless us--but I'm happy to-day!"

  "MY HUSBAND!--MY DEAR HUSBAND!" were the only articulate words thatescaped Mildred's lips, as she fell senseless into the arms of ArthurButler.

  CHAPTER LVIII.

  THE CONCLUSION.

  The victory was won. In the last assault, Campbell had reached the crestof the mountain, and the loyalists had given ground with decisiveindications of defeat. Ferguson, in the hopeless effort to rally hissoldiers, had flung himself into their van, but a bullet at this instantreached his heart; he fell from his seat, and his white horse, which hadbeen conspicuous in the crowd of battle, bounded wildly through theranks of the Whigs, and made his way down the mountain side.

  Campbell passed onward, driving the royalists before him. For a momentthe discomfited bands hoped to join their comrades in the rear, and, bya united effort, to effect a retreat: but the parties led by Sevier andCleveland, cheered by the shouts of their victorious companions, urgedtheir attacks with new vigor, and won the hill in time to intercept thefugitives. All hopes of escape being thus at an end, a white flag wasdisplayed in token of submission; and the remnant of Ferguson's lateproud and boastful army, now amounting to between eight and nine hundredmen, surrendered to the assailants.

  It has scarcely ever happened that a battle has been fought, in whichthe combatants met with keener individual exasperation than in this. Themortal hatred which embittered the feelings of Whig and Tory along thisborder, here vented itself in the eagerness of conflict, and gave theimpulse to every blow that was struck--rendering the fight, frombeginning to end, relentless, vindictive, and bloody. The remembrance ofthe thousand cruelties practised by the royalists during the brief Torydominion to which my narrative has been confined, was fresh in the mindsof the stern and hardy men of the mountains, who had pursued their foewith such fierce animosity to this his last stage. Every one had somewrong to tell, and burned with an unquenchable rage of revenge. It was,therefore, with a yell of triumph that they saw the symbol of submissionraised aloft by the enemy; and for a space, the forest rang with theirloud and reiterated huzzas.

  Many brave men fell on either side. Upon the slopes of the mountain andon its summit, the bodies of the dead and dying lay scattered amongstthe rocks, and the feeble groans of the wounded mingled with the fiercetones of exultation from the living. The Whigs sustained a grievous lossin Colonel Williams, who had been struck down in the moment of victory.He was young, ardent, and brave; and his many soldier-like virtues,combined with a generous and amiable temper, had rendered him acherished favorite with the army. His death served still more toincrease the exacerbation of the conquerors against the conquered.

  The sun was yet an hour high when the battle was done. The Whigs wereformed in two lines on the ridge of the mountain; and the prisoners,more numerous than their captors, having laid down their arms, weredrawn up in detached columns on the intervening ground. There were manysullen and angry glances exchanged, during this period of suspense,between victors and vanquished; and it was with a fearful rankling ofinward wrath, that many of the Whigs detected, in the columns of theprisoners, some of their bitterest persecutors.

  This spirit was partially suppressed in the busy occupation thatfollowed. Preparations were directed to be made for the night-quartersof the army; and the whole host was, accordingly, ordered to march tothe valley. The surgeons of each party were already fully employed intheir vocation. The bodies of the wounded were strewed around; and, forthe protection of such as were not in a condition to be moved, shelterswere made of the boughs of trees, and fires kindled to guard them fromthe early frost of the season. All the rest retired slowly to theappointed encampment.

  Whilst Campbell was intent upon these cares, a messenger came to summonhim to a scene of unexpected interest. He was informed that a gentleman,not attached to the army, had been dangerously wounded in the fight, andnow lay at the further extremity of the mountain ridge. It was addedthat he earnestly desired an interview with the commanding officer.Campbell lost no time in attending to the request.

  Upon repairing to the spot, his attention was drawn to a stranger wholay upon the ground. His wan and haggard cheek, and restless eye, showedthat he suffered acute pain; and the blood upon his cloak, which hadbeen spread beneath him, indicated the wound to have been received inthe side. A private soldier of the British army was his only attendant.To Campbell's solicitous and kind inquiry, he announced himself, in avoice that was almost over-mastered by his bodily anguish, to be PhilipLindsay, of Virginia.

  "You behold," he said, "an unhappy father in pursuit of his children."Then, after a pause, he continued, "My daughter Mildred, I have beentold, is near me: I would see her, and quickly."

  "God have mercy on us!" exclaimed Campbell, "is this the father of thelady who has sought my protection? Wounded too, and badly, I fear! Whereis Major Butler, who was lately prisoner with Ferguson?" he said,addressing the attendant--"Go, go, sir," he added, speaking to the sameperson, "bring me the first surgeon you can find, and direct some threeor four men from the ranks to come to your aid. Lose no time."

  The soldier went instantly upon the errand, and soon returned with thedesired assistance. Lindsay's wound had been already staunched, and allthat remained to be done was to put him in some place of shelter andcomfort. A cottage at the foot of the mountain was pointed out byCampbell; a litter was constructed, and the sick man was borne upon theshoulders of four attendants to the designated spot. Me
antime, Campbellrode off to communicate the discovery he had made to Mildred and herbrother.

  Lindsay's story, since we last parted from him, may be briefly told. Heand Tyrrel had journeyed into the low country of Virginia, to meet thefriends of the royal government. These had wavered, and were not to bebrought together. A delay ensued, during which Tyrrel had prevailed uponLindsay to extend his journey into North Carolina; whence, after anineffectual effort to bring the Tory party to some decisive step, theyboth returned to the Dove Cote, having been nearly three weeks absent.

  Upon their arrival, the afflicting intelligence met Lindsay of thedeparture of Mildred and her brother for the seat of war, Mildred'sletter was delivered to him; and its contents almost struck him dumb. Itrelated the story of Arthur Butler's misfortunes, and announced, that,for nearly a year past, Mildred had been the wedded wife of the captiveofficer. The marriage had been solemnized in the preceding autumn, in ahasty moment, as Butler travelled south to join the army. The onlywitnesses were Mistress Dimock, under whose roof it had occurred, HenryLindsay, and the clergyman. The motives that induced this marriage wereexplained: both Mildred and Arthur hoped, by this irremediable step, toreconcile Lindsay to the event, and to turn his mind from its unhappybroodings: the increased exasperation of his feelings, during thesucceeding period, prevented the disclosure which Mildred had again andagain essayed to make. The recent dangers which had beset Arthur Butler,had determined her to fly to his rescue. AS HIS WIFE she felt it to beher duty, and she had, accordingly, resolved to encounter the peril ofthe journey.

  For a day or two after the perusal of this letter, Lindsay fell into adeep melancholy. His presentiments seemed to have been fatally realized,and his hopes suddenly destroyed. From this despondency, Tyrrel'sassiduous artifice aroused him. He proposed to Lindsay the pursuit ofhis children, in the hope of thus luring him into Cornwallis's camp, andconnecting him with the fortunes of the war. The chances of life, hereasoned, were against Butler, if indeed, as Tyrrel had ground to hope,that officer were not already the victim of the snares that had beenlaid for him.

  Upon this advice, Lindsay had set out for Cornwallis's head-quarters,where he arrived within a week after the interview of Mildred and Henrywith the British chief.

  Whilst he delayed here, he received the tidings that his daughter hadabandoned her homeward journey, and turned aside in quest of Butler.This determined him to continue his pursuit. Tyrrel still accompaniedhim; and the two travellers having arrived at the moment of the attackupon King's mountain, Lindsay was persuaded by his companion to make therash adventure which, we have already seen, had been the cause of hispresent misfortune.

  It is not my purpose to attempt a description of the scene in thecottage, where Arthur Butler and his wife, and Henry, first saw Lindsaystretched upon a rude pallet, and suffering the anguish of a dangerouswound. It is sufficient to say that, in the midst of the deep grief ofthe bystanders, Lindsay was composed and tranquil, like one who thoughtit vain to struggle with fate. "I have foreseen this day, and felt itscoming," he muttered, in a low and broken voice; "it has happened as itwas ordained. I have unwisely struggled against my doom. There, takeit," he added, as he stretched forth his hand to Butler, and in tonesscarcely audible breathed out, "God bless you, my children! I forgiveyou."

  During the night fever ensued, and with it came delirium. The patientacquired strength from his disease, and raved wildly, in a strainfamiliar to his waking superstition. The same vision of fate and destinyhaunted his imagination; and he almost frightened his daughter frombeside his couch, with the fervid eloquence of his madness.

  The cottage was situated near half a mile from the encampment of thearmy. Towards daylight, Lindsay had sunk into a slumber, and theattendant surgeon began to entertain hopes that the patient mightsuccessfully struggle with his malady. Mildred and Mary Musgrove keptwatch in the apartment, whilst Butler, with Horse Shoe Robinson andAllen Musgrove, remained anxiously awake in the adjoining room. HenryLindsay, wearied with the toils of the preceding day, and old Isaac thenegro, not so much from the provocation of previous labor as fromconstitutional torpor, lay stretched in deep sleep upon the floor.

  Such was the state of things when, near sunrise, a distant murmurreached the ears of those who were awake in the cottage. These soundsattracted the notice of Horse Shoe, who immediately afterwards stole outof the apartment and repaired to the camp. During his walk thither theuproar became more distinct, and shouts were heard from a crowd ofsoldiers who were discovered in a confused and agitated mass in thevalley, at some distance from the encampment. The sergeant hastened tothis spot, and, upon his arrival, was struck with the shocking sight ofthe bodies of some eight or ten of the Tory prisoners suspended to thelimbs of a large tree.

  The repose of the night had not allayed the thirst of revenge amongstthe Whigs. On the contrary, the opportunity of conference anddeliberation had only given a more fatal certainty to their purpose. Therecent executions which had been permitted in Cornwallis's camp, afterthe battle of Camden, no less than the atrocities lately practised bysome of the Tories who were now amongst the captured, suggested the ideaof a signal retribution. The obnoxious individuals were dragged forthfrom their ranks at early dawn, and summary punishment was inflicted bythe excited soldiery in the manner which we have described, in spite ofall remonstrance or command.

  This dreadful work was still in progress when Horse Shoe arrived. Thecrowd were, at that moment, forcing along to the spot of execution atrembling wretch, whose gaunt form, crouching beneath the hands thatheld him, and pitiful supplications for mercy, announced him to thesergeant as an old acquaintance. The unfortunate man had caught a glanceof Robinson, and, almost frantic with despair, sprang with a tiger'sleap from the grasp of those who held him, and, in an instant, threw hisarms around the sergeant's neck, where he clung with the hold of adrowning man.

  "Oh save me, save me, Horse Shoe Robinson!" he exclaimed wildly. "FriendHorse Shoe, save me!"

  "I am no friend of yours, Wat Adair," said Robinson, sternly.

  "Speak for me--Galbraith--speak, for old acquaintance sake!"

  "Hold!" said Robinson to the crowd who had gathered round to pluck thefugitive from his present refuge. "One word, friends! stand back, I havesomewhat to say in this matter."

  "He gave Butler into Hugh Habershaw's hands," cried out some of thecrowd.

  "He took the price of blood, and sold Butler's life for money--he shalldie!" shouted others.

  "No words!" exclaimed many, "but up with him!"

  "Mr. Robinson," screamed Adair, with tears starting from his eyes, "onlyhear me! I was forced to take sides against Major Butler. The Torieswould have burnt down my house; they suspected me,--I was obliged,--MikeLynch was witness,--mercy, mercy!" and here the frightened culprit criedloud and bitterly.

  "Friends," said Horse Shoe calmly to the multitude, "there is bettergame to hunt than this mountain-cat. Let me have my way."

  "None has a better right than Horse Shoe Robinson," said a speaker fromthe group, "to say what ought to be done to Wat Adair. Speak out, HorseShoe!"

  "Speak! We leave it to you," shouted some of the leaders: and instantlythe crowd fell back and formed a circle round Horse Shoe and Adair.

  "I give you your choice," said the sergeant, addressing the captive,"for though your iniquities, Wat Adair, desarve that you should havebeen the first that was strung up to yonder tree, yet you shall haveyour choice, to tell us fully and truly, without holding back name ofhigh or low, who put you on to ambush Major Arthur Butler's life atGrindall's Ford. Tell us that, to our satisfaction, and answer all otherquestions besides that we may ax you, and you shall have your life,taking, howsever, one hundred lashes to the back of it."

  "I will confess all, before God, truly," cried Adair with eagerness."James Curry told me of your coming, and gave me and Mike Lynch money tohelp Hugh Habershaw."

  "James Curry had a master in the business," said Robinson: "His name?"

  Adair hesitated for an instant and s
tammered out "Captain St. Jermyn."

  "He was at your house? Speak it, man, or think of the rope!"

  "He was there," said Adair.

  "By my soul! Wat Adair, if you do not come out with the whole truth,"said Robinson, with angry earnestness, "I take back my promise. Tell meall you know."

  "Curry acted by the captain's directions," continued the woodsman, "hewas well paid for it, as he told me, and would have got more, if aquarrel amongst Habershaw's people hadn't stopped them from taking MajorButler's life. So I have heard from the men myself."

  "Well, sir?"

  "That's all," replied Adair.

  "Do you know nothing about the court-martial?" asked Robinson.

  "Nothing, except that as the Major wasn't killed at the Ford, it wasthought best to have a trial, wherein James Curry and Hugh Habershaw, asI was told, had agreed to swear against the Major's life."

  "And were paid for it?"

  "It was upon a consideration, in course," replied Adair.

  "And Captain St. Jermyn contrived this?"

  "It was said," answered Adair, "that the captain left it all to Curry,and rather seemed to take Major Butler's side himself at the trial. Hedidn't want to be known in the business!"

  "Where is this Captain St. Jermyn?" demanded many voices.

  This interrogatory was followed by the rush of the party towards thequarter in which the prisoners were assembled, and, after a lapse oftime which seemed incredibly short for the performance of the deed, theunhappy victim of this tumultuary wrath was seen struggling in theagonies of death, as he hung from one of the boughs of the same treewhich had supplied the means of the other executions.

  By this time Butler and Henry Lindsay, attracted by the shouts thatreached them at the cottage, had arrived at the scene of these dreadfulevents. Wat Adair was, at this moment, undergoing the punishment forwhich his first sentence was commuted. The lashes were inflicted by asturdy arm upon his uncovered back; and it was remarkable that thewretch who but lately had sunk, with the most slavish fear, under thethreat of death, now bore his stripes with a fortitude that seemed todisdain complaint or even the confession of pain. Butler and Henryhurried with a natural disgust from this spectacle, and soon foundthemselves near the spot where the lifeless forms of the victims ofmilitary vengeance were suspended from the tree.

  "Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed Butler, "is not that St. Jermyn? What hashe done to provoke this doom?"

  "It is Tyrrel!" ejaculated Henry. "Major Butler, it is Tyrrel! Thatface, black and horrible as it is to look at, I would know it among athousand!"

  "Indeed!" said Butler, gazing with a melancholy earnestness upon thescene, and speaking scarce above his breath, "is it so? Tyrrel and St.Jermyn the same person! This is a strange mystery."

  Robinson, at this moment, approached, and, in answer to Butler'squestions, told the whole story of the commotions that had just agitatedthe camp.

  "St. Jermyn was not with Ferguson," said Butler, when the sergeant hadfinished his narrative. "How came he here to-day?"

  "First or last," replied Robinson, "it is my observation, Major, thatthese schemers and contrivers against others' lives are sure to come toaccount. The devil put it into this St. Jermyn's head to make Ferguson avisit. He came yesterday with Mr. Lindsay, and got the poor gentlemanhis hurt. James Curry has done working for him now, Major. Master andman have travelled one road."

  The scene was now closed. The business of the day called the troops toother labors. Campbell felt the necessity of an immediate retreat withhis prisoners to the mountains, and his earliest orders directed thearmy to prepare for the march.

  When Butler returned to the cottage, he found himself surrounded by amournful group. The malady of Lindsay had unexpectedly taken a fatalturn. Mildred and Henry were seated by the couch of their father,watching in mute anguish the last ebbings of life. The dying man wascomposed and apparently free from pain, and the few words he spoke wereof forgiveness and resignation.

  In the midst of their sorrow and silence, the inmates of the dwellinghad their attention awakened by the military music of the retiring army.These cheerful sounds vividly contrasted with the grief of the mourners,and told of the professional indifference of soldiers to the calamitiesof war. By degrees, the martial tones became more faint, as the troopsreceded up the valley; and before they were quite lost to the ear,Campbell and Shelby appeared at the door of the cottage to explain theurgency of their present departure, and to take a sad farewell of theirfriends.

  Stephen Foster, with Harry Winter and a party of the Rangers, remainedbehind to await the movements of Butler. Horse Shoe Robinson, AllenMusgrove, and his daughter, were in constant attendance.

  Here ends my story.

  In a lonely thicket, close upon the margin of the little brook whichwaters the valley on the eastern side of King's mountain, the travellerof the present day may be shown an almost obliterated mound, and hard byhe will see the fragment of a rude tombstone, on which is carved theletters P. L. This vestige marks the spot where the remains of PhilipLindsay were laid, until the restoration of peace allowed them to betransported to the Dove Cote.

  There, also, in a happier day, Arthur Butler and Mildred took up theirabode; and notwithstanding the fatal presentiment in regard to thefortunes of his house which had thrown so dark a color upon the life ofPhilip Lindsay, lived long enough after the revolution to see grow uparound them a prosperous and estimable family.

  Mary Musgrove, too, attended Mildred, and attained an advanced, and Ihope a happy old age, at the Dove Cote.

  Wat Adair, I have heard it said in Carolina, died a year after thebattle of King's mountain, of a horrible distemper, supposed to havebeen produced by the bite of a rabid wolf. I would fain believe, for thesake of poetical justice, that this was true.

  Another item of intelligence, to be found in the history of the war, mayhave some reference to our tale. I find that, in the summer of 1781,Colonel Butler was engaged in the pursuit of Cornwallis in his retreatfrom Albemarle towards Williamsburgh: my inquiries do not enable me tosay, with precision, whether it was our friend Arthur Butler who had metthis promotion. His sufferings in the cause certainly deserved such areward.

  [Footnote 1: This stricture, true in 1835, the date of the first editionof these volumes has, I am happy to notice, lost much of its point inthe lapse of sixteen years.]