V.—THE WAR-HORSE LUCIFER.
Now let us pass with one bold flight over the movements of the Continental
army in Canada; let us hasten at once, to that dark night when the
legions under Sullivan, embarked on the River Sorel, on their way to Lake
Champlain and Crown Point.
Let us go yonder to the darkened shore, as the shades of night come
down. A solitary man with his horse, yet lingers on the strand. Yes, as
the gleam of the advancing bayonets of Bourgoyne, is seen there through the
northern woods—as the last of the American boats ripples the river, far to
the south, while the gathering twilight casts the shadow of the forest along
the waters, here on this deserted strand, a single warrior lingers with his
war-horse.
There is the light canoe waiting by the shore, to bear him over the
waters; for he must leave that gallant steed with skin black as night, and a
mane like an inky wave.
He cannot leave him for the advancing foe; he must kill him.
Kill the noble horse that has borne him scatheless through many a fight!
Kill—Lucifer—so the warrior named him—that brave horse, whose heart
in battle beats with a fire like his own? Ah, then the stout heart of Arnold
quailed. Ah, then as the noble horse stooped his arching neck, as if to invite
his master to mount him once again, and rush on to meet the foe, then
Arnold who never turned his face away from foe, turned his face away from
the large speaking eye of that horse, Lucifer.
He drew his pistol; the horse laid his head against his breast, floating
his dark mane over his shoulders. Arnold who never shed a tear for the
dead men in battle, felt his eyes grow wet. He was about to shoot that
friend, who had served him so well, and never betrayed him.
There was the report of a pistol—the sound of a heavy body falling on
the sand—the motion of a light canoe speeding over the waters.
And Arnold looked back, and beheld the dying head of his horse faintly
upraised; he beheld that large eye rolling in death.
Ah, little can you guess the love that the true warrior feels for his steed!
Ah, many a time in after life, when the friend of his heart betrayed, and the
beloved one on whose bosom he reposed, whispered Treason in his ear, did
he remember the last look of that dying war-horse, Lucifer.
