Horse Shoe Robinson :: :: University of Virginia Library

By the time the sun had fallen to the level of the summits of the
Blue Ridge, Butler and Robinson had progressed so far in their
journey, as to find themselves in the vicinity of the Rockfish river—
a rapid mountain stream, that traverses the southern confine of
Albemarle, and which, at that period, separated this county from
Amherst. Their path had led them, by a short circuit, out of the
ravine of Cove creek, along upon the ridges of the neighboring
hills; and they were now descending from this elevation, into the
valley of the Rockfish, near to the point where the Cove creek forms
its junction with this river. The hill was covered with a stately
forest, and a broad, winding road had been cut down the steep side,
in such a manner as to present a high bank on one hand, and an
abrupt sheer descent on the other. From this road might be seen,
at intervals, glimmering through the screen of underwood, the
waters of the small river below; whilst, at the same time, the
circuitous course of the descending track left but few paces of its
length visible from any one point, except where, now and then, it
came boldly forth to the verge of some wild crag, from which
glimpses were to be obtained of its frequent traverses towards the
deep and romantic dell that received the mingled tribute of the two
streams.

Here, as our travellers journeyed downward, their attention was
awakened by the cry of hounds in pursuit of game. These sounds
came from the wood on the crest of the hill above them; and the
clamorous earnestness with which they assailed the ear, and roused
the far echo of the highlands, showed the object of chase to have
been suddenly surprised and hotly followed. The outcry was heard,
for some moments, pursuing a direction towards the river, when,

suddenly from the midst of the forest, the sharp twang of a rifle-shot
showed that some hunter was on the watch to profit by the discovery
of the dogs.

Robinson, as soon as he heard the report, urged his horse forward
with speed, to the first turn of the road below; dismounted, and,
throwing his rifle into the palm of his left hand, stood ready to give
his fire wherever he might find occasion. Butler followed, and
reined up close beside his companion.

“There is game afoot,” said Galbraith, “and if that shot has not
done its business, it may be my turn to try a hand.”

These words were hardly spoken, when a wounded buck rushed
to the brink of the bank, some twelve or fifteen feet above the heads
of the travellers, and regardless of the presence of enemies, made one
frantic bound forward into the air, and fell dead almost at Robinson's
feet. So effectually had the work of death been done upon the poor
animal, that he seemed to have expired, in the convulsion of this
last leap, before he reached the ground; his antlers were driven into
the clay; his eyes were fixed, and not a struggle followed.

“It was a home-shot that brought this poor fugitive to the earth,”
said Butler, as he stood gazing at the piteous spectacle before him,
“and sped by a practised hand.”

“I don't count him a good man, major,” said Galbraith, with
professional indifference, “who would mangle his meat by random
firing. Now, this buck was taken sideways, as he leaped above the
tops of the bushes, which is the ticklishest of all the ways of shooting
a deer. The man that plucked this fellow, I'll warrant, can
plant his ball just where he likes: right under the arm is the place
for certainty; and the thing couldn't have been prettier done if the
man had had a rest and a standing shot.”

During this short interval, the hounds had arrived on the spot
where the buck lay bleeding, and these, after a few minutes, were
followed by two hunters of very dissimilar appearance, who came
on foot, slowly leading their horses up the hill.

The first was a tall, gaunt woodman, of a sallow complexion, jet
black eyes, and round head of smooth black hair. His dress was
simply a coarse linen shirt and trowsers, the heat of the day being
such as to allow him to dispense with coat and waistcoat. He
carried, in one hand, a battered straw hat, and in the other, trailed

a long rifle. His feet were covered with a pair of moccasins of
brown leather, and the ordinary hunting equipments were suspended
about his person.

The second was a youth apparently about sixteen, dressed in a
suit of green summer-cloth, neatly and fancifully adapted to his
figure, which was graceful and boyish. The jacket was short, and
gathered into a small skirt behind; and both this and the pantaloons
were garnished with a profusion of black cord and small black
buttons. A highly polished leather belt was buckled around his
waist; a cap of green cloth rested, somewhat conceitedly, amongst
the rich locks of a head of light, curly hair that fell, with girlish
beauty, over a fair brow, and gave softness to a countenance of pure
white and red; and a neat foot showed to advantage in a laced
boot. The whole appearance of the youth was of one of an amiable
and docile bearing, and the small rifle or carbine which he bore in
his hand, as well as the dainty accoutrements that belonged to it,
amongst which was a diminutive bugle, looked more like the toys
of a pampered boy, than any apparatus of service.

No sooner had these two approached near enough to Butler and
his attendant for recognition, than the youth, quitting the hold of
his horse, sprang forward with a joyous alacrity and seized Butler
by the hand.

“Captain Butler,” he cried with great animation, “how glad I
am you have come! And how fortunate it is that I should meet
you! Get down from your horse, I have something to tell you.
Here, Stephen Foster, take this gentleman's horse.”

“You are a fine fellow, Harry,” said Butler, dismounting. “That
smiling face of yours is full of pleasant news; it assures me that all
are well at the Dove Cote.” Then having given his horse in charge
to Robinson, and walked a few paces apart with his young friend,
he enquired, in a low and anxious tone, “Mildred, my dear Henry,
what of your sister Mildred? Has she received my letter? Does
she expect me? Is your father—”

“Now, captain,” interrupted the other—“but heigh! don't the
newspapers say you are brevetted? I am a pretty fellow to forget
that! Well then, Major Butler, let me answer one question at a
time. In the first place, sister Mildred is as well as any girl can be,
that has a whole bushel of crosses to keep her out of spirits. Poor

thing, she frets so, about you and my father. In the second place,
she received your letter a week ago, and has had me patrolling this
ridge every day since, just to keep a look-out for you; and, for the
sake of company, I have had Stephen Foster hunting here all the
time—more for an excuse than anything else, because on this side
of the river the drives are not the best for deer—a man might be
here a fortnight and not get a shot. Sister Mildred wanted me, if
I should see you first, just to whisper to you that it is impossible to
do anything with my father, especially at this time, for he has one
of these English officers staying at the Dove Cote now, who, I am
afraid, and so is sister Mildred, has come to do some mischief.
Mildred says I must make some appointment with you to see her
privately. I thought of Mrs. Dimock's, but this Englishman has a
servant staying over there, and may be it wouldn't do. So, major,
you will have to ride down to the big chestnut, on the bank of the
river, just under the rock that we call the Fawn's Tower—you know
where that is? it isn't more than two miles from here.”

“I know it well, Henry, I will wait there patiently,” replied
Butler, as he now returned to his horse.

“Haven't we been in luck,” said Henry, “to get so fine a buck
at last? This fellow has eight branches. It is Stephen's rifle that
has done it.”

The woodman, during this conversation, had taken possession of
his spoil, and was now busily engaged with his knife in cutting open
and preparing the animal for transportation, according to the usages
of woodcraft, whilst Robinson stood by, admiring the dexterity with
which this office was performed. When the buck was, at last,
thrown by Stephen across his horse, Henry gave him orders to ride
forward.

“You will carry our game to your own house, Stephen; and
don't forget, to-morrow, to let us have the saddle at the Dove Cote.
And Stephen, you need not say that we have found any acquaintances
upon the road, you understand!”

The man bowed his head, in token of obedience, and getting upon
his long-backed steed, behind the buck, was soon lost to view in the
windings of the hill.

“Sister Mildred is sometimes downright melancholy,” said the
young hunter, after he had remounted, and now rode beside Butler.

“She is troubled about you, and is always telling me of some
unpleasant dream. I almost think she is over-fanciful; and then she
reads everything about the army, and talks almost like a man about
soldiering. Do you know she is making a soldier of me? I am
constantly reading military books, and practising drill, and laying
out fortifications, just as if I was going into camp. My father
doesn't know a word of it; his time is taken up with these English
officers, writing to them, and every now and then there are some
of them at our house. Mildred knows them—a famous spy she
would make! Isn't she an excellent girl, Major Butler?”

“You and I should guard her, Henry, with more care than we
guard our lives,” replied Butler, with a serious emphasis.

“I hope,” returned Henry, “she will be in better spirits after she
sees you.”

“I would to heaven,” said Butler, “that we all had more reason
to be of good cheer, than we are likely to have. It is as cloudy a
day, Henry, as you may ever behold again, should you live, as I
pray you may, to the ripest old age.”

Henry looked up towards the west.

“There are clouds upon the sky,” he said, “and the sun has
dropped below them; but there is a streak of yellow light, near
to the line of the mountain, that our wise people say is a sign that
the sun will rise in beauty to-morrow.”

“There is a light beyond the mountain,” replied Butler, half
speaking to himself, “and it is the best, the only sign I see of a
clear to-morrow. I wish, Henry, it were a brighter beam.”

“Don't you know Gates has passed South?” said Henry, “and
has some pretty fellows with him, they say. And ar'n't we all
mustering here—every man most? Ask Stephen Foster what
I am?”

“And what will he tell me?”

“Why, that I am his deputy-corporal in the mounted riflemen;
Stephen is the lieutenant.”

“Oh, I crave your favor, brother officer, good master deputy-corporal,
Henry Lindsay! and does your father allow you to ride
in the ranks of the friends of liberty?”

“Sister Mildred persuaded him that as I am a mere lad, as she
says,—look at me, major,—a pretty well grown lad, I take it, there

is no harm in my playing soldier. So I ride always with Stephen
Foster, and Mildred got me this light rifle-carbine. Now, major, I
fancy I am pretty nearly as good a marksman as rides in the corps.
Who is this with you?” asked Henry, looking back at Robinson,
who loitered some distance in the rear purposely to avoid what
might be deemed an intrusion upon the private conference of the
two friends.

“That is a famous soldier, Henry; he was at the siege of
Charleston, and last year at Savannah. He has had some hard
blows, and can tell you more of war than you have ever read in all
your studies.”

“He wears a curious uniform,” said Henry, “for a regular
soldier. What is his name?”

“Galbraith Robinson—or Horse Shoe Robinson—to give him his
most popular distinction. But it would be well to keep his name
secret.”

“I have heard of Horse Shoe,” said Henry, with an expression
of great interest. “So, this is the man himself? From all reports
he is as brave as”—

“As who?” asked Butler, smiling at the tone of wonder with
which Henry spoke.

“As Caius Marcius Coriolanus, who, I make no doubt, major, was
about the bravest man in the books.”

Butler laughed, and applauded the young martialist for his discrimination.

The road from the foot of the hill pursued the left, or northern,
bank of the Rockfish, which shot along, with a rapid flood, over the
rocks that lay scattered in its bed; and the gush of whose flight fell
upon the ear like the loud tones of the wind. From either margin
it was shaded by huge sycamores, whose tops, at this twilight hour,
were marked in broad lines upon the fading sky, and whose wide
spreading boughs met, from side to side, over the middle of the
stream, throwing a deeper night upon the clear and transparent
waters. The valley was closely bound by high precipitous hills,
whose steep crags and narrow passes seemed to echo and prolong
the gush of the stream, that was now mingled with the occasional
lowing of cattle, the shriek of the owl, and the frequent hoarse scream
of the whip-poor-will.

When our party had advanced about a mile along this road,
Henry Lindsay took his bugle and blew a blast which seemed to
dance in its reverberations from one side of the river to the other.

“Mildred knows my signal,” said he; “that is the scout's warning:
cavalry approaches: dress your line: prepare to receive a
general officer.”

“Henry, pray drop your military phrase, and tell me what this
means?” said Butler.

“Ride on till you arrive beneath the Fawn's Tower. Wait for
me there. I will give you a signal when I approach: and trust me
for a faithful messenger. The river is deep at the rock, but you will
find a boat fastened to this bank. When you hear my signal come
across. Mr. Dimock's is only another mile; and, I'll warrant, the
old lady will make you comfortable. Love, they say, major,” added
Henry, sportively, “is meat and drink, and a blanket to boot; but
for all that, Mrs. Dimock's will not be amiss—especially for Horse
Shoe, who, I take it, will have the roughest time of the party. If
love is a blanket, Mr. Robinson,” Henry continued, addressing himself
to that worthy, “it doesn't cover two, you know.”

“To my thinking, young sir,” replied Horse Shoe, with a laugh,
“it wouldn't fold so cleverly in a knapsack.”

“Now that I have given my orders,” said Henry, “and done my
duty, I must leave you, for my road lies across the ford here.
Where are my hounds? Hylas, Bell, Blanche, you puppies, where
are you?”

Here Henry blew another note, which was immediately responded
to by the hounds; and, plunging into the rapid and narrow stream,
followed by the dogs, who swam close behind him, he was seen, the
next moment, through the twilight, galloping up the opposite hill,
as he called out his “good night” to his friends.

As soon as Henry had disappeared, the other two pricked their
steeds forward at a faster pace. The rapid flow of the river, as they
advanced along its bank, began to change into a more quiet current,
as if some obstruction below had dammed up the water, rendering it
deep and still. Upon this tranquil mirror the pale crescent of the
moon and the faintly peeping stars were reflected; and the flight of
the fire-fly was traced, by his own light and its redoubled image,
upon the same surface.

The high toppling cliff of the Fawn's Tower, that jutted forth like
a parapet above the road, soon arrested the attention of Butler; and
at its base the great chestnut flung abroad his “vast magnificence of
leaves,” almost in emulation of the aspiring crag.

“We have reached our appointed ground,” said Butler. “I shall
want my cloak, Galbraith; the dews begin to chill my limbs.”

They dismounted, and Butler threw his cloak around his shoulders.
Then, in a thoughtful, musing state of mind, he strolled slowly along
the bank of the river, till he was temporarily lost to view in the
thick shades and sombre scenery around him. Robinson, having
secured the horses, sat himself down at the foot of the chestnut,
unwilling to interrupt, by conversation, the anxious state of feeling
which he had the shrewdness to perceive predominated in Butler's
mind.