University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

It has been seen, that if the painter made an effort
to restrain the enthusiasm of the multitude, he
instantly proved that he was not without the virtue
himself, so soon as he found it was really determined
to pursue the suspected person. The horses
of the officers had been led round the hill to the
covert where the others were tied; and towards
this place he directed his steps, crying out all the
time, with encouraging alacrity, “Quick, gentlemen,
quick!”

But the strongest proof of his zeal he gave, the
moment he had reached the horses, by vaulting
upon the back of the nearest, (and, in his estimation,
the best,) which happened, at that moment,
to be in the hands of the venerable coachman,
Richard, who was leading the animal round with
a degree of solicitude and attention, that were
testimonials enough of its value. Herman's
ledgings being so nigh at hand, he had thought it
wholly superfluous to trouble himself with his own
roan charger; and the present emergency was of
a nature so peculiar, he did not stop a moment to
consider the lawfulness of the seizure. He leaped
therefore into the saddle, jerked the reins out of
Richard's hand; and the wrath of the owner, who

was no other than lieutenant Falconer himself, was
extreme, when he beheld the audacious stranger,
his own loud calls to the contrary not withstanding,
bestride the captured steed with the air of an emperor,
and instantly put him to his speed.

“Harkee, halt! stop! you've mistaken your
horse,” cried the lieutenant. “Who is that impudent
scoundrel? My horse, you rogue! Give me
a pistol, Caliver, and I'll shoot him off.”

But the anger of the soldier was unavailing; the
painter swept out of sight, and while Falconer
was calling on his friend Caliver, (a gentleman of
a weather beaten face, very lantern-jawed, and
with a red nose,) he also darted forward and
vanished. Nothing remained for him but to follow
the example set him by Hunter; and accordingly,
he seized upon the best charger he could find, and
with his brother officer and others, galloped after
the two leaders.

The reader may remember that the Traveller's
Rest was described as lying at the upper termination
of a ravine, which swept down to the river,
and just before it debouched thereon, received
the waters of Hawk-Hollow Run. From the promontory
so often spoken of, the cottage was
plainly visible, and approachable along the bed of
the river, even by horsemen, provided they were of
the steeple-chase order, or were moved by any
occasion so stirring as the present. The obstructions
and difficulties, nevertheless, were of a nature,
to call for great circumspection on the part of the
riders; and accordingly the greater number of
pursuers began to exercise their discretion so soon
almost as they had well set out. The two leaders,
however, dashed onwards with fiery zeal, and performed
feats of horsemanship that gained them
the applause of the laggards. It was fortunate for
Herman that his spirit and address soon won him

the good will of the cavalry officer, (for such was
captain Caliver) at his heels. He had remarked
the seizure of his friend's charger, and at first meditated
a wrathful reprimand. He succeeded in
coming within speaking distance, as Hunter toiled
up an ascent of unusual ruggedness, and instantly
hailed him:

“Harkee, my friend,” said he, “you ride like a
gentleman, and a little training would fit you for
the army: but do you know you have mistaken
your horse?”

“Faith, there is no mistake about it,” cried the
painter, “for my horse was not on the ground.
In such an emergency, sir—but enough. Are you
armed, captain? are you armed?”

“Surely my holsters are at my saddle-bow,”
quoth the cavalry officer, spurring up, as he reached
a more level ground, on which he could display
all the qualities of his charger; “and as surely you
will find Harry Falconer's at his, if you know how
to use them. Harkee, my friend, I will not make
so bold as to consider you in a fright; but you are
quite white about the lips.”

“Ay, true,” said the painter, clapping his hand
to the holsters, and drawing forth a weapon, but
taking no particular notice of the soldier's insinuation:
“Captain, had you not better draw up, and
wait for some of the company, while I push on,
and secure the road?”

“I vow to heaven,” said captain Caliver, “I
would knock you off your horse, did I not know
you spoke in the ignorant innocence of your heart.
Draw up, and wait for company? It is not in my
nature to call any man an ass, except a private;
and you are here, I think, as a volunteer. So, Mr.
Gentleman-volunteer, be pleased to look upon me
as commander-in-chief, and attend to my instructions.—Do

you know that Oran Gilbert, when you
see him?”

“How should I? The Indian trader, to be sure,
I know; and you will soon find, that this fellow of
the white horse is no more like him than I am.”

“Very well—Fall behind, Mr. Gentleman-volunteer,
and”—

“I will do no such thing,” said the youth, stoutly;
“I will ride, fight, and kill refugees with any
man in the county; and if you show me one, I'll
engage to shoot him at sixty paces,—that is, with
a good pistol,—I will, by the lord!”

And so saying, the volunteer brandished his pistol
with such ardour that it suddenly went off in
his hand, with a report that set the whole ravine
roaring, and materially expedited the march of
their followers, who responded with an instant
cheer.

The captain of cavalry stretched forth his hand,
seized Hunter's bridle, and was about to express
certain rough suspicions which this untimely explosion
created in his mind, when the painter cried
out, with as much apparent innocence as confusion,

“Egad, I believe 'twas a hair-trigger!”

“Spur up, and no more firing,” cried the soldier;
“or by the eternal Jupiter, I'll knock you off
your horse. You have alarmed the wigwam; see
what a hubbub you have raised in the van, as well
as on the rear! the tavern is in commotion. Hah!
by the eternal Jupiter, there goes Red-hat! Spur
up, gentleman volunteer; or by the eternal Jupiter,
the fellow will escape!”

The report of the pistol had indeed reached the
Traveller's Rest, and drawn forth its two or three
inmates; who could now easily behold the whole
train of horsemen dashing furiously up the ravine;
and the quick eye of captain Caliver was not slow

in detecting a person on horseback, with a red hat,
pricking hastily away from the cottage.

“The game is sprung,—the rabbit is up!” he
cried, while the fire that burned on his thin
nose, seemed to have raised a kindred flash in his
dark gray eyes. “Gentleman-volunteer, do you
see? Now you shall behold the doings of Skyscraper,
the best horse for a long race on short
fodder, that was ever galled by saddle. Up the
bank here, and after!”

“You are wrong, captain, you are wrong,” cried
the painter, eagerly. “'Tis a white horse, you
know; and this is a roan, or sorrel.”

There could be no truth more incontestible than
this; yet captain Caliver was of too sagacious a
spirit, or perhaps was warming with too much fire,
to be led from his purpose by an argument not of
his own devising.

“I will be uncivil to no man but a private,” he
cried, fixing his eye upon the fugitive, (who was
for a moment's space plainly visible, as he galloped
up the road,) compressing his lips, till they
actually seemed to have vanished, and, at the same
time, driving his spurs deep into his steed; “I say,
I will be rough-spoken to none but privates, for it
does not hurt their feelings; but, by the eternal
Jupiter, there goes our man!—or what does he
mean by wearing a red hat? and, lastly, what
does he mean by beating a retreat in such a
fashion? Harkee, Mr. Gentleman-volunteer, I am
glad now you fired that pistol. Had we come upon
the dog silently, why then I should have picked
him up, rolled up in a ball, like an opossum; which
is a job for a black man, and not a captain of
cavalry. I say,” he continued, with increasing
animation, “I am glad you have roused him, and
shown him a fair field; for, by the eternal Jupiter,
I have not seen a race worthy to speak of for two

weeks; and, by the eternal Jupiter, you shall see
such a one now as will make your blood run; and,
by the eternal Jupiter, I hope his horse is blooded,
for, by the eternal Jupiter, I will run him, or any
other respectable tory gentleman, from time temporal
to time eternal, from post to pillar, from
Sunday to Saturday, and from life and the dinnertable
to death and”—. And here the captain
of horse, who was something of a horse himself
when his blood was up, ended climacterically with
a most soldier-like word, which, although it may
be found in any English dictionary with which the
public is acquainted, will nevertheless read more
agreeably in a dictionary than any where else. He
added, indeed, three more words; for turning his
horse's head towards the steep bank that bounded
the ravine on the right hand, he twisted a lock of
the charger's mane round his finger, and uttered
the cabalistic ejaculation,—

“Go it, Sky-scraper!”

The words had an immediate effect; no sooner
did they reach his ear than Sky-scraper, with a
plunge that carried him half a length ahead of the
painter, darted to the brow of the acclivity; and
Herman following, he beheld the Indian trader,
(for it was this identical individual they were now
pursuing,) some five or six hundred paces in advance,
travelling at a very unusual pace up the
highway. As Hunter reached the road, he cast
his eye backwards to the hovel, and beheld, riding
into the oak yard, a man whom he knew at once
to be the person that had first attracted Miss Falconer's
notice. He rode a white horse, and there was
a red covering to his head; but this latter phenomenon,
as it appeared, was owing entirely to the presence
of a red handkerchief drawn over the horseman's
hat, doubtless to shield his eyes from the
sun-beams, or from the dazzling rays reverberated

from a dusty road. There was nothing at all
warlike in the appearance of this individual; on
the contrary, he seemed, from his dress, to belong
to the community of Friends; and he paused at
the entrance of the yard, looking back on the chase
he had left behind, with much innocent curiosity
and wonder.

“Captain,” cried the painter, at the top of his
voice, “wheel about. You are leaving the true
man: here he is, full in view, behind us!”

The captain answered only by repeating the
charm that had already nerved the limbs, and fired
the spirit of his steed; and Herman, urged by feelings
and inducements of his own, followed after
him; and in a few moments, the fugitive and his
two pursuers were alike buried in a cloud of dust,
raised by the fleet chargers.

When the two leaders so suddenly left the ravine,
they were beyond the sight of those who
brought up the rear; and these, not doubting they
had continued their original route, galloped on
themselves until they reached the little inn; where
the first person they saw was a tall, middle-aged,
gawky quaker, the same that had been seen by
Herman, sitting astride his horse, and staring on
them with gaping astonishment.

“Surrender, you villain!” cried Harry Falconer,
with a whoop of victory; “surrender, you bloody
Hawk, or I'll blow your brains out,—or I'll make
Brooks do it, that scoundrel having run away with
my pistols.—Hillo-ah-ho, Caliver!—What has become
of the captain?—Down, you dog, and we'll
tie you!”

“'Nan!” cried the astounded Friend: “What
does thee mean, young person?”

“Death and Beelzebub!” cried Brooks, “What
have we here? Why, old father Broadbrim, who
the devil are you? Sure, I know this horse!”

“Sure thee may, and sure thee may not,” replied
Broadbrim, looking wrathfully upon his captors,
who were evidently nonplussed at sight of him.
“He is an honest man's horse, friend foul-mouth
and sauce-box with the coat of the slayer on thee
back!”

“The spot's on the wrong leg!” cried Brooks,
who had been inspecting the stranger's horse with
a curious eye. “Hah! d'ye see the dust on the
hill? Some of you guard father Broadbrim; he's
suspicious: we'll examine him directly. Hillo-ho,
Falconer! I'll have you! oho! oho! oho!” and
away darted the young officer after his brother
lieutenant, who had galloped off so soon as he discovered
the course pursued by the leaders.

By this time, all the young men present had
grown warm with exercise, and were now waxing
valiant, as they began to understand the little danger
there was in chasing, so many of them together,
a single refugee, who, although desperate
and dangerous enough, had shown so little inclination
to face them. They began to be apprized,
too, of the nature of the service in which they
were rather co-operating than compulsorily engaged;
and all seemed to know, that the farther
they rode up the highway, the nearer they would
be to an armed force, marched into the county
for the express purpose of ferreting out and destroying
the band of outlaws. This being the state
of their feelings, there were few of them willing
to accept the ignoble trust of guarding the body
of the Quaker prisoner; though, having had it
urged upon them by the cautious lieutenant, they
were loath to discharge him without authority. It
was proposed by some to lock him up in the Traveller's
Rest, and entrust the ward entirely in the
hands of Elsie and her little negress; while others
pointed to Gilbert's Folly as a safer prison-house;

and some even talked of carrying him to the
woods, and tying him to a tree, until the chase
they were so anxious to share in, was over. The
dilemma, such as it was, was already proceeding
to altercation, when Broadbrim, having understood
that they were in chase of a famous tory,
proposed to ride with them in pursuit; adding with
a zeal that delighted, as much as it astonished
them,—

“A man of war am I not, neither a slayer nor
a fastener of bonds, neither a firer of pistols nor
a brandisher of swords and spears; yet, friend
younker whom they call Andrews, if thee is the
man to show me a tory who hath broken the law,
then verily am I the man that will hold him hard
and fast, till the law hath spoken with him; yea,
verily, I am. Ride on, therefore, with whip and
with spur; only swear not, and be not aworth;
and do thou, friend Andrews, ride at my side; for
my horse is a horse of peace and not a horse of
war, sure-footed but slow, and peradventure I may
be left behind. It doth not become me to say, I
hate a tory, for a tory is a man, and hate belongeth
not to a fellow creature;—but, verily, I have
heard of the man called Oran Gilbert, the Hawk
of the Hollow; and, verily, I should not like to be
summoned on the jury to try him for his manifold
crimes; for, verily, it would be against my principles
to judge him to death, and verily it would
be against my heart and conscience to let him off
with aught less than hanging. So let me detain
none from the good deed of catching the wicked
man; and peradventure, if this animal beneath me
hath any vigour left in his legs and reins, I may
stretch forth my hand afar, and take the sinner by
the nape of the neck.”

The manifestation of such spirit on the part of
Broadbrim, who seemed well prepared, so far as

strength of arm and resolution of heart were concerned,
to take even a huger man than the Indian
trader betwixt his finger and thumb, determined
the course of his sentinels at once. They gave a
loud shout, and bidding him follow, rode after the
officers as hard as they could; and it was worthy
of remark, that the white horse, notwithstanding
the hint the prisoner had given of his slowness,
began gradually to warm into mettle and fleetness,
so that before the race had extended many miles,
he bade fair to outstrip his attendants altogether.