University of Virginia Library

47. CHAPTER XLVII.

We return to Mildred Lindsay, who, comfortably sheltered under
the roof of Mrs. Markham, had found herself, after the repose of forty-eight
hours, almost entirely reinstated in her former strength; her
thoughts were now consequently directed to the resumption of her
journey. The gentle and assiduous attentions of the family whose
hospitality she enjoyed, were, however, not confined to the mere
restoration of her health. The peculiarity of her condition, thus
thrown as she was amongst strangers, in the prosecution of an
enterprise, which, though its purpose was not disclosed to her
entertainer, was one manifestly of great peril, and such only as
could have been induced by some urgent and imperious necessity,
awakened in Mrs. Markham a lively interest towards Mildred's
future progress. This interest was increased by the deportment of
our heroine herself, whose mild and graceful courtesy, feminine
delicacy, and gentleness of nurture, were so signally contrasted with
the romantic hardihood of her present expedition. General
Marion's letter, also, in the estimation of the hostess, put her under
a special obligation to look after the welfare of her guest. Accordingly,
now when the third morning of our travellers' sojourn
had arrived, and Mildred thought of taking leave of the friendly
family, the first announcement of this purpose was met by an almost
positive prohibition.

“You are young, my dear,” said the matron, “in your experience
of the horrors of this civil war, and make a sad mistake
if you think that your sex, or any sufficient reason you may
have to justify you in going on, will protect you against insult, in
case you should be so unfortunate as to meet parties of the
enemy.”

“My object, madam,” replied Mildred, “is to go into the very
heart of the enemy's ranks. My business is to see Lord Cornwallis
himself. I shall, therefore, proceed directly to his head-quarters.
That being my purpose, I shall not regret the opportunity to throw
myself upon the protection of the first band of loyal troops I may
meet.”

“Into Lord Cornwallis's presence!” said Mrs. Markham, with
an expression of wonder. “You have some very near friend who
has suffered in the late battle—a prisoner, perhaps?” As this
question escaped the lips of the lady, who had hitherto purposely
forborne to inquire into the private history of Mildred's journey,
she shook her head distrustfully, and, after some deliberation,
added, “You will pardon me, my child, for what may seem to be
an idle curiosity—I seek to know nothing that you may desire to
keep secret—but your journey is so full of hazard to one so young
and helpless as yourself, that I fear you have not wisely considered
the evil chances to which you may be exposed.”

“I have spent no thought upon the hazard, madam,” replied Mildred.
“There is no degree of danger that should outweigh my
resolution. You guess truly—I have a friend who is a prisoner,
and in sad jeopardy—and more than that, dear madam, I have
persuaded myself that I have power to save him.” A tear started
in her eye as she added, “That is all I have thought of.”

“Then may a kind and merciful Heaven shield you! They little
know the heart-rending trials of war, who have not felt them as I
have. These rude soldiers, Miss Lindsay—I shudder at the
thought of your trusting your safety to them.”

“My name, madam,” replied Mildred, “I am ashamed to tell
you, has all its associations on their side—I must trust to its power
to bear me through.”

“Not all, sister,” interrupted Henry. “From the beginning up
to this day, I can answer for myself, I have never had a thought
that didn't take sides against the red-coats.”

A faint smile played upon Mrs. Markham's features, as she
turned to Henry and said, “You are a young rebel, and a warm
one, I perceive. Such troubles as ours require grave advisers.”

“My brother and myself must not be misapprehended,” continued
Mildred; “I alluded only to my father's influence. I have

heard that he enjoys some consideration in the esteem of Lord
Cornwallis, and it is upon the strength of that I have ventured.
Besides, I am well attended by a careful and wise soldier, who
rides as my companion and guide—one who would not quietly see
me harmed.”

“Let him be brought into our consultation,” said Mrs. Markham.
“I would not act without his advice. With your leave, I will send
for him.”

Henry and Alfred Markham, immediately upon this hint, went
in pursuit of Horse Shoe.

When that important and trusty personage arrived in the parlor,
a regular conference was opened, which, after a few discourses on
the general aspect of affairs—wherein the sergeant showed an
abundance of soldierly sagacity and knowledge, and a still greater
share of warm and faithful concern for the welfare of the sister and
brother whom he had in ward—resulted in the conclusion that
measures should be taken to ascertain the state of the country
around, in reference to the impression made by the late movements
of Marion and his adversary; and, especially, what character of
troops occupied the region over which the sergeant would be required
to conduct his charge. This duty the sergeant very appropriately
considered as belonging to himself, and he therefore determined
forthwith to set out on a reconnoitring expedition. As we
propose to bear him company, we will, for the present, leave the
family in the parlor to the enjoyment of the kind communion that
had already nursed up a mutual affection between the hostess and
her guests.

The sergeant took his departure alone, notwithstanding the urgent
importunities of Henry and his new companion, Alfred Markham,
for permission to accompany him—a request that was utterly
denied by the sturdy and cautious soldier.

“You are apt to talk too much, Mister Lindsay,” he said, in
answer to the petition of the young men, “for such a piece of business
as I have in hand: for although, consarning your good sense,
and valor both, considering your years, I would not be thought to
speak rashly of them—but, on the contrary, to give you full praise
and recommendation—yet you know you want experience and use
to these double-dealings and dodgings that the war puts us to;

whereupon, you mought fall to talking when it was best to be silent,
and, in case of our meeting a body, to be letting out somewhat too
much, which is a thing that discommodes in war more than you
would believe. And besides this, Master Henry, there might be,
mayhap, a scrimmage, a chase, and what not—in which consideration
you would be only in my way, seeing that I should be obliged
to be thinking of you when all my wits would be wanting for myself.
No, no; upon no account is it reasonable that you should be
along. It is your business to sarve as a body-guard to our young
lady, who, I say, may God bless and take care of in this world and
the next! And so, Mister Henry, you have my orders to stick to
your post.”

“Well, sergeant,” replied Henry, “I must obey orders, and if
you command me to stay behind, why I cannot choose about it.
But, sergeant, let me give you a word of advice. Ride cautiously
—keep your eyes to the right and left, as well as straight before
you—and don't let them catch you napping.”

“You studied that speech, Mr. Henry!” said Horse Shoe, laughing.
“To hear you, one mought almost think you had shaved a beard
from your chin before this. Look out, or your hair will turn grey
from too hard thinking! and now, my long-headed fellow-soldier,
good bye t'ye!”

“You are not going without your rifle, Mr. Horse Shoe?” said
Henry, calling out to the sergeant, who had already trotted off
some twenty paces.

“That's another consarn for you to ruminate over,” replied Horse
Shoe, in the same jocular mood. “Mine is a business of legs, not
arms, to-day.”

The sergeant was immediately after this upon the highway,
moving forward with nothing, seemingly, to employ him but cheerful
thoughts.

After riding for an hour upon the road that led towards Camden,
he was enabled to collect from the country people a rumor that
some detachments of horse were, at this time, traversing the
country towards Pedee, but whether friends or enemies was not
known to his informants. In following up this trail of common
report, his vigilance quickened by the uncertainty of the tidings, he
arrived about mid-day at a brook which, running between low but

sharp hills, was crossed by the road at a point where a bold mass of
rock, some twenty feet in height, jutted down with a perpendicular
abruptness into the water. Here, as he stopped to survey the
narrow and winding course of the stream, his eye was attracted
by the projecting crag that thrust its bulk almost into the middle
of the channel; and, for a moment, he indulged the speculation of
a soldier, as he pondered upon the military advantages of such a
post, either as a point from which to reconnoitre an enemy, or as
a vantage-ground on which to dispute his passage of the ford.
It not long afterwards fell to his lot to turn this observation to
some account.

A mile beyond this spot, and where the road, as it yet crept
through the bosom of the hills, was so obscured by forest as to
afford not more than fifty paces of uninterrupted view, his quick
ear was struck with sounds resembling the tramp of horses. Upon
this conviction, it was but the action of an instant for him to turn
aside into the woods and to take a station which might enable
him to investigate the cause of his surmise, without exposing
himself to the risk of detection. The noise grew louder, and what
was vague conjecture soon became the certain report of his senses.
At the nearest turn in the road, whilst protected by a screen of
thicket, he could descry the leading platoons of a column of horse
advancing at a slow gait; and upon examining his own position
he became aware that, although the thicket might guard him from
present observation, it would cease to do so as soon as the squadron
should approach nearer to his ground. His thoughts recurred
to the rock at the ford, and, with a view to avail himself of it, he
forthwith commenced his retreat through the underwood that
guarded the road side, as fast as Captain Peter could get over the
ground. It was not long before he was removed beyond all risk of
being seen by the advancing party, and he thus found himself
at liberty to take the road again and retire without apprehension.

In Horse Shoe's reckoning, it was a matter of great importance
that he should obtain the most accurate information regarding the
troop that he had just encountered; and his present purpose was,
accordingly, to post himself in a secure position upon the rock,

and there maintain a close watch upon the party as they rode
beneath it. The brook was gained, the ford passed, and the
sergeant, after riding a short circuit towards the rear of the little
promontory, dismounted from his horse, which he secured in the
depths of the wood, and then clambered to the top of the precipice,
where he had barely time to conceal himself amongst the crags
and the thick shrubbery that shot up above them, before the
headmost files of the cavalry appeared descending the opposite
hill.

As the column came gradually into his view upon the road
which wound down into the valley, it disclosed a troop of some
twenty men, whose green uniform sufficiently indicated the
presence of a part of Tarleton's command. He heard them call a
halt upon the bank, and after a few moments' rest, he saw them
ride into the stream, and pass in files around the base of the
rock.

The passage of the brook occupied some time; for the thirsty
horses were successively given a slack rein as they entered the ford,
and were allowed to drink. This delay separated the platoons,
and those who first passed over had advanced a considerable
distance before the stragglers of the rear had quitted the stream.
For some minutes that stir and noise prevailed which, in a military
party, generally attends the attempt to restore order amongst
confused or broken ranks. The frequent commands of officers
summoning the loiterers and chiding their delay, were given from
front to rear in loud tones, and the swift gallop of those who had
lingered in the stream, as they obeyed the order and hastened
forward to their places, sent forth a quick and spirited evidence of
bustle, that broke sharply upon the silence of the surrounding
forest. These indications of activity unfortunately pricked with a
sudden astonishment the ear of one who has heretofore figured,
not without renown, in this history—the lusty and faithful Captain
Peter; who, not sufficiently alive to the distinction between friend
and foe, now began to snuff, and paw the ground, and then with
a long and clear note of recognition, to express his feelings of
good fellowship towards the unseen strangers. Another moment,
and the gay and thoughtless steed reared, plunged broke his

bridle, and bounded through the woods, with a frolicsome speed
that brought him into the midst of the troop, where he wheeled
up and took his place, like a disciplined charger, on the flank of
one of the platoons.

This incident caused the officer in command of the party to come
again to a halt, and to despatch a portion of his men to seek the
owner of the horse. An eager search commenced, which was
almost immediately terminated by the wary sergeant presenting
himself to the view of the troop, on a prominent and exposed
point of the rock, where he seemed to be busily and unconcernedly
engaged with his jack-knife, in stripping the bark from
the roots of a sassafras tree that grew out of one of the fissures
of the cliff. Apparently, he gave no attention to the clamor
around him, nor seemed to show a wish to conceal himself from
notice.

“Who in the devil are you—and what are you about?” exclaimed
the leading soldier, as he mounted the rock and came up
immediately behind Robinson, who was still fixed with one knee
upon the ground, plying his labor at the root of the tree.

“Good day, friend,” said Robinson, looking up over his shoulder,
“Good day! From your looks you belong to the army, and, if
that's true, perhaps you mought be able to tell me how far it is
from here to the river?”

“Get up on your feet,” said the other, “and follow me quickly!
I will take you to one who will oil the joints of your tongue for
you, and put you to studying your catechism. Quick, fellow,
move your heavy carcass, or, I promise you, I will prick your fat
sides with my sword point.”

“Anywhere you wish, sir, if you will only give me time
to gather up this here bark,” said the sergeant, who, hereupon,
heedless of the objurgation of the trooper, deliberately
untied the handkerchief from his neck, and spreading it out upon
the ground, threw into it the pieces of bark he had been cutting,
and then, taking it in his hand, rose and walked after the
soldier.

He was conducted to the troop, who were waiting in the road
the return of the men that had been despatched on this piece of
service.

“Quick, quick, move yourselves! we have no time to lose,” cried
out the officer in command of the detachment, as Horse Shoe and
his guide came in view: and then, after an interval of silence,
during which the sergeant walked heavily to the spot where the
troop waited for him, he added with an impatient abruptness,
“Make few words of it, sir. Your name, where from, and where
are you going?”

“My name, captain—if your honor is a captain, and if I miscall
you, I ax your honor's pardon: my name is—is—Stephen Foster,
Steve most commonly.”

“Well, whence do you come?”

“From Virginny.”

“Fool! why do you stop?”

“You axed, I think, where I was going? I was going to get
on my horse that's broke his bridle, which I see you have cotched
for me: and then back to my young mistress, sir, that was taken
sick over here at a gentlewoman's house on Pedee. She thought
a little sassafras tea might help her along, and I was sent out to
try and get a few scrapings of the bark to take to her. I suppose
I must have rode out of my way a matter of some eight or ten
miles to find it, though I told her that I thought a little balm out
of the garden would have done just as well. But women are
women, sir, and a sick woman in particular.”

“This fellow is more knave than fool, I take it, cornet,” said
the officer to a companion near him.

“His horse seems to have been trained to other duties than
gathering herbs for ladies of delicate stomachs,” replied the
other.

“My horse,” interrupted the sergeant, “would have broken
clean off if it hadn't a been for your honor: they say he belonged
to a muster in Verginny, and I was warned that he was apt to
get rampagious when there was anything like a set of sodgers
nigh him, and that is about the reason, I expect, why he took it
into his head to fall into your company.”

“Get on your beast,” said the officer impatiently, “you must go
with us. If upon further acquaintance I form a better opinion of
you, you may go about your business.”

“I am somewhat in a hurry to get back to the lady.”

“Silence! Mount your horse, fall to the rear. Gilbert, attend
to this fellow, he musn't leave us,” said the officer, as he delivered
Horse Shoe into the charge of one of the leaders of a platoon, and
then put spurs to his steed and moved to the head of the
column.

It was in the afternoon when this incident occurred; and Robinson
found himself, during the remainder of the day, compelled to
follow the troop through a series of by-ways across the country, in a
direction of which he was wholly ignorant,—being also in the same
degree unacquainted with the object of the march. When the day
closed they arrived at a farm-house, where it seemed to be their
purpose to pass the night; and here the sergeant, towards whom no
unnecessary rigor had been exercised, was freely allowed to participate
in the cheer provided for the party. This rest was of short
duration; for, before the coming of the allotted bed-hour, a
courier arrived, bringing a despatch to the leader of the detachment,
which produced an instant order to saddle and resume the
march.

Once more upon the road, the sergeant became aware, as well as
he was able to determine in the dark, that the party during the
night were retracing their steps, and returning upon the same route
which they had before travelled.

A half hour before the dawn found the troop ascending a long
hill, the summit of which, as Robinson perceived from the rustling
of the blades in the morning wind, was covered by a field of standing
corn; and he was enabled to descry, moving athwart the star-lit
sky, the figures of men on horseback approaching the column.
The customary challenge was given; a momentary halt ensued,
and he could hear the patrole—for such they described themselves,
—informing the officer of the detachment that Colonel Tarleton
was close at hand expecting their arrival. This intelligence induced
an increase of speed which, after a short interval, brought the night-worn
squadron into the presence of nearly a whole regiment of
cavalry.

The troops, thus encountered, were stationed upon the high-road
where it crossed an open and uncultivated plain, the nearer
extremity of which was bordered by the corn-field of which I have
spoken. It was apparent that the regiment had passed the night

at this place, as a number of horses were yet attached to the fence
that guarded the field, and were feeding on the blades of corn that
had been gathered and thrown before them. The greater part,
however, were now drawn up in column of march, as if but recently
arrayed to prepare for the toil of the coming day.

Robinson was conducted along the flank of the column, and
thence to a spot in the neighborhood, where a party of officers
assembled by a sylvan tent, constructed of the boughs of trees,
showed him that he was at the headquarters of the commander of
the crops. This tent was pitched upon a piece of high ground
that afforded a view of the distant horizon in the east, where a faint
streak of daylight lay like the traces of a far-off town in flames,
against which the forms of men and horses were relieved, in bold
profile, as they now moved about in the early preparations for their
march.

A single faggot gleamed within the tent, and, by its ray, Horse
Shoe was enabled to discern the well known figure of Tarleton, as
he conferred with a company of officers around him. After the
sergeant had waited a few moments, he was ordered into the presence
of the group within:

“You were found yesterday,” said Tarleton, “in suspicious circumstances—what
is your name, fellow?”

“I am called Stephen Foster by name,” replied the sergeant,
“being a stranger in these parts. At home I'm a kind of a
gardener to a gentleman in Virginia; and it isn't long since I sot
out with his daughter to come here into Carolina. She fell
sick by the way, and yesterday, whilst I was hunting up a little
physic for her in the woods, a gang of your people came across
me and fotch me here—and that's about all that I have got to
say.”

A series of questions followed, by which the sergeant was compelled
to give some further account of himself, which he contrived
to do with an address that left his questioners but little the wiser
as to his real character; and which strongly impressed them with
the conviction that the man they had to deal with was but a simple
and rude clown.

“You say you don't know the name of the person at whose
house you stopped?” inquired the commander.

“I disremember,” replied Horse Shoe; “being, as I said, a
stranger in the parts, and not liking to make too free with axing
after people's names.”

“A precious lout, this, you have brought me, Lieutenant Munroe,”
said Tarleton, addressing the officer who had hitherto
had the custody of the sergeant. “You don't disremember the
part of Virginia you lived in?” he added, pursuing his examination.

“They have given it the name of Amherst,” replied Horse
Shoe.

“And the father of Miss Lindsay, you say, resided there?”

“Sartainly, sir.”

“There is a gentleman of that name somewhere in Virginia,” said
Tarleton, apart to one of his attendants, “and known as a friend to
our cause, I think.”

“I have heard of the family,” replied the person addressed

“What has brought the lady to Carolina?”

“Consarning some business of a friend, as I have been told,”
answered Horse Shoe.

“It is a strange errand for such a time, and a marvellous shrewd
conductor she has chosen! I can make nothing out of this fellow.
You might have saved yourself the trouble of taking charge of such
a clod, lieutenant.”

“My orders,” replied the lieutenant, “were to arrest all suspicious
persons; and I had two reasons to suspect this man. First,
he was found upon a spot that couldn't have been better chosen for
a look-out if he had been sent to reconnoitre us; and second, his
horse showed some military training.”

“But the booby himself was stupid enough,” rejoined the commander,
“to carry his passport in his face.”

“I have a paper, sir, to that purpose,” said Horse Shoe, putting
his hands into his pockets, “it signifies, I was told,—for I can't
read of my own accord—that I mought pass free without
molestification from the sodgers of the king—this is it, I believe,
sir.”

“To three suppers at the Rising Sun, four and six pence,” said
Tarleton, reading. “Tush, this is a tavern bill!”

“Ha, ha, so it is,” exclaimed Robinson. “Well, I have been

keeping that there paper for a week past, thinking it was my certificate—and,
like a fool, I have gone and tore up the t'other.”

“We are wasting time, gentlemen,” said the commander.
“Turn this fellow loose, and let him go his ways. But hark you,
did you hear of a fight lately on Pedee, between some of our people
and Marion—three days ago?”

“They talked of such a thing on the river,” replied Horse Shoe.

“Well, and what was said?”

“Nothing in particular that I can bear in mind.”

“Like all the rest we have tried to get out of him! You don't
even know which party got the better?”

“Oh, I have hearn that, sir.”

“What did you hear? speak out!”

“Shall I give you the circumlocutory account of the matter?”
asked Horse Shoe, “or did you wish me to go into the particulars?”

“Any account, so that it be short.”

“Then I have hearn that Marion gave the t'other side a bit of a
beating.”

“Aye, aye, so I suppose! Another tale of this Jack the Giant
Killer! And what has become of Marion?”

“That's onbeknownst to me,” replied Horse Shoe.

“Do you remember the fool we met at the Waxhaws last
May?” asked one of the officers present, of another. “This fellow
might pass for a full brother in blood—only I think this clown has
the less wit of the two.”

“As heavy a lump, certainly,” replied the officer. “This, you
say, is the first time you have been in Carolina?”

“To my knowledge,” replied the sergeant.

“It is broad day, gentlemen,” said Tarleton; “we have been
squandering precious time upon an empty simpleton. Give him
his beast and let him be gone. Sirrah, you are free to depart.
But, look you, if I hear any reports along the road of your having
seen me, or a word about my coming, I'll ferret you out and have
you trussed upon a stake twenty feet long.”

“Thank your honor,” said Horse Shoe, as he left the tent. “I
never troubles my head with things out of my line.”

Then seeking his horse he leisurely rode back by the way he had
come; and as soon as he found himself beyond the outposts of the
corps, he urged Captain Peter to as much speed as the late arduous
duties of the good beast left him power to exert.