University of Virginia Library

36. CHAPTER XXXVI.

Colonel Trevor was the spoiled child of fortune
and patronage. He was old enough to remember
his father's rise in life. Hence, in estimating his
consequence in society, he had formed a habit of
comparing him with the class from which he sprung,
and not with that more intellectual order of men, in
which he had at last found his proper place, and
where he had long remained stationary in well ascertained
equality. This circumstance alone made an
important difference between him and his younger
brothers. The sort of retrospect with which he was
most familiar teaches any thing but humility, however
it may impress that lesson on the mind that has
already learned it.

In the commencement of Col. Trevor's military
career, the approbation of his father had been of
more consequence to the usurper than now, when his
throne stood strong on its own foundations. The
character of that worthy gentleman, too, had been
less understood. The President had not been aware
how absolutely the convictions of his own mind and
his high sense of duty supplied the place of those

douceurs, the frequent repetition and continued expectation
of which is necessary to bind the faith of
the unprincipled. Before this discovery was made,
Col. Trevor had been already advanced to a rank,
and invested with an adventitious consequence,
which made it important to cultivate him on his own
account. His early training had taught him the
grand maxim of the court: “Nothing ask, nothing
have.” He had discovered that any display of fixed
principle, however favorable to the usurper's plans,
was no passport to advancement; that rewards were
only for the mercenary, and that they were always
dispensed with a freedom duly proportioned to the
eagerness with which they were sought. The caustic
wit of John Randolph had unintentionally and almost
with his last breath supplied the faction with a countersign
not to be mistaken. If any man talked about
his principles, (as all men do and must at times,)
there was always at hand some dextrous pimp, whose
business it was to ascertain their number. If they
were found to be either more or less than seven, the
discovery was fatal to his hopes of advancement.

The character of Douglas Trevor had been formed
under circumstances directly the reverse of those
which had operated on his elder brother. He only
remembered his father in the same circles and the
same place in society in which his latter days had been
spent. No change of condition had led the youth to
turn his back on the companions of his boyhood; no

rapid promotion had filled him with a fond conceit of
his own consequence, or an overweening eagerness
for rank and emolument; and his unbought fidelity
had shown that he was of the number of those on
whom rewards would be wasted. Thus it happened,
(as it so often does,) that two young men, sons of
the same parents, educated in the same school, and
trained to the same profession, were just the reverse
of each other, in particulars wherein nature had probably
made little difference between them. So it
was, that while the one was indifferent to duty,
frivolous, self-indulgent, and mercenary, the other
was assiduous, discreet, temperate, and disinterested.

It may be inferred from what I have said, that the
rank of Col. Trevor was already above his merit.
The consequence was, that having reached his present
elevation by the force of causes not within
himself, his own consciousness afforded no standard
for his farther pretensions. He could see no reason
why he should not be a field-marshal as well as a
colonel. And so it was; for he had no just claims
to either rank on the score of service or qualification.
A stone thrown up, were it endued with consciousness
and thought, could see no reason, as long as it
was ascending, why it might not fly to the moon. If
my experience in life has taught me any thing, it is,
that a man who sets no bounds to his aspirations,
unless his daily intercourse with the world affords

daily proofs of an intrinsic superiority over all he
meets, is already raised above his merit.

The gentlemen, of whom I have been speaking,
were busily engaged in their game, when the Orderly
in waiting entered and announced an officer who
wished to report himself to the commandant of the
post.

“Let him call in the morning, and be damned to
him,” said Col. Trevor. “Is this an hour to disturb
a gentleman?”

The Orderly saluted and withdrew, but presently
returned to say that the officer had particular business
with Colonel Mason, and wished to see him
immediately. Mason accordingly left the room, and
was gone but a few minutes, when he too came back.

“This officer, sir,” said he, “asked to see me,
supposing me still in command here. His intelligence
is for you; and, from what I heard before I
discovered his mistake, it may be important that you
should receive it to-night.”

“Well,” said Trevor, in a tone at once lazy and
peevish, “I suppose I must see him. But it is
damned hard that I cannot have a moment's leisure.
Let him come in.”

He was summoned accordingly, and proved to be
no other than our acquaintance, the Yankee spy,
whom I now introduce to the reader, as he announced
himself. He is Captain Amos Cottle, of
the 20th regiment of infantry, in the army of the

United States. His name, I presume, (like that of
the fourteen James Thomsons, in Don Juan,) had
been bestowed in honor of the illustrious bard immortalized
by Lord Byron. He was invited to take
a glass of wine, and, having seated himself, requested
a private conference with the commanding officer.
This was a signal for the dispersion of the ladies,
and their assiduous attendants, who adjourned to
another room. Mason was about to follow, but the
Colonel carelessly requested him to remain.

Captain Cottle was then invited to open his
budget, which he did by telling what the reader
already knows. Not a sentence did he utter, in
which some indication of folly, vanity, or indiscretion
did not escape him. All this, however, passed
unmarked of Col. Trevor, whose eyes sparkled at
the welcome intelligence. Nothing could be more
apropos to his wishes, or to the plan of the President.
“Veni, vidi, vici.” The exploit of Cæsar
was the only parallel to that which he proposed to
achieve. Occasionally he looked to Mason for
sympathy and concurrence with his unexpressed
thoughts. As often he withdrew his eye, chilled
and perplexed by the cold, steady, thoughtful look
of his companion. What could this mean? Could
Mason be insensible to the advantage of the plot, or
indifferent to its issue? Could envy so far prevail
with a man heretofore distinguished by his disinterested
zeal for the service, as to damp his ardor in

an enterprise of so much promise? He was at first
indignant at this idea, but a little reflection made
him judge his brother-officer with more candor.

“Poor Mason,” said he to himself. “I don't
wonder that he is a little mortified at my good fortune.
It is something hard that he should have held
this post so long, without a chance to do any thing,
and that I should have come just in time to rob him
of this. But then, damn it! it is his own fault.
What did he want with a reinforcement against a
parcel of ragged militia? It was right to supersede
an officer who would ask more than one regiment to
meet any number of such ragamuffins that could come
against him. Besides, he ought to have broken up
their den long ago. If Douglas escapes me this
time, it shall not be long before I smoke him out of
his hole, or there is no virtue in gun-powder.”

Having thus reasoned himself into a state of exquisite
self-complacency, he heard the story of
Captain Cottle to the end, and then asked the
opinion of Mason.

“I cannot say,” replied that gentleman, “that I
am prepared to give an opinion.”

“I hope,” said Trevor, “that you don't mean to
deny me the benefit of your thoughts.”

“So far from it, that I make it a point of conscience
not to speak without having first thought.
When I have done so, I will tell you what I think.
To speak now would be but to give you the crude

suggestions of unreflecting and impertinent presumption.”

“I cannot understand,” said Trevor, “how you
can require time to think in so plain a case.”

“I might say, in reply,” answered Mason, “that
as the case is so clear to you, you can hardly need
my advice. Indeed, I understand your request of
it but as a compliment to which I am not insensible,
and which I shall not decline. When I am prepared
to speak, therefore, I shall speak as plainly as if the
case were as full of difficulty to you as it is to me.”

Having said this, Mason drew Cottle into conversation;
enquired the particulars of his visit to the
mountain; encouraged him to recite his conversations
with Douglas; and, filling him full of vanity
and conceit by his deferential deportment, made the
light shine through him, so as to expose his folly to
the most careless observer. At length he was dismissed
for the night, and Mason, addressing Trevor,
said: “I am now ready to give you my thoughts. I
could not do so in Captain Cottle's presence; and,
indeed, my mind was not clear until I had some
more conversation with him. I am now satisfied.”

“Let's hear, then, the result of your cogitations,”
asked Trevor, with something of a sneer.

Mason colored slightly, but said, in a calm tone:
“I have had some experience of this Captain Douglas,
and am morally sure he has not been deceived
by this man, as he supposes.”

“What!” exclaimed Trevor. “Do you forget
that Captain Cottle is an officer whose rank is a
pledge for his honor, and who would forfeit his commission
and his life by bringing false intelligence to
his commander?”

“I don't doubt his truth,” said Mason, “but his
sagacity I do doubt. The man is palpably a
Yankee—”

“And the cunning of the Yankee is proverbial,”
interrupted Trevor.

“It is, indeed,” replied Mason; “but as he is
not only a Yankee, but obviously so, he could not
have made Douglas believe that he was an influential
inhabitant of Bedford, a native of the county, and
a zealous stickler for the sovereignty of Virginia.”

“You give your Captain Douglas credit for a
great deal of sagacity.”

“And not without reason,” said Mason. “His
plans, and his manner of conducting them, all show
it. His intelligence appears to be always correct
and ready, and his devices for the concealment of
his own schemes are commonly impenetrable. It is
clear, from many circumstances, that he has agents
who pass through the country unsuspected; and I
should not be surprised if Cottle had fallen in with
one of them. I have no doubt that Douglas will be
found at Jones's Ford on the day appointed; but my
life upon it, instead of coming there to be surprised,
he proposes to come there to surprise you.”

“Surprise ME!” said Trevor, scornfully.

“I have no apprehension that he will surprise
you,” said Mason, “because I am sure you will take
all proper precaution. I merely mean to say that he
will attempt it.”

“And be punished for his presumption,” said
Trevor. “As to precaution, I must use it, to be
sure, superfluous as it may be against a set of inexperienced
militia.”

“Of one sort of experience,” said Mason, “and
that not the least important, they have had more than
we. They have tasted danger more than once; and
their skill in the use of the rifle is such as men who
live with the weapon in their hands, and they alone,
can be expected to acquire.”

“I hope to bring in some of them as prisoners,”
said Trevor, “and then we shall see how that is.
I will pit a dozen of our sharp-shooters against a
dozen of them, my horse to yours.”

“I am not in the habit of betting,” replied Mason,
smiling quietly; “but, in this case, I dare say I may
do it innocently, as the offence will hardly reach
beyond intention; so I take your bet.”

“How do you mean?” asked Trevor, sharply.

“I mean,” said Mason, “that I am not very sure
that you will take a dozen of them.”

“Not sure!” exclaimed Trevor; “how can they
escape me?”

“I don't profess to understand their craft,” said

Mason; “but they are hard to catch. In short,
Colonel Trevor, my instructions require me to afford
you all the information I have acquired here. It is
therefore my duty, even without question from you,
to assure you that you are in the midst of a disaffected
country, and that you are going against an
enemy not to be despised, and among a people universally
hostile. Knowing these things, and invited
by you to advise what is to be done in this affair,
my advice is to march your whole disposable force
to the appointed place, using every precaution to
guard against surprise. It might be as well to anticipate
Douglas, so far at least as to understand the
ground, and to occupy it before the day.”

“And so he takes warning, and escapes me.”

“By no means. Cottle's scheme will have been
made available so far as to draw him down from the
mountains. You neither need nor desire any other
advantage. But I see that I cannot easily make
myself understood, because our minds are occupied
with different things. You are thinking about the
trap set for Douglas, and I am thinking about the
snare he has laid for you. Depend upon it, Colonel
Trevor, that the old story of catching a Tartar, may
be illustrated by catching Douglas among the river
hills. He may be caught; and yet, neither come
away nor let you come. Observe,” continued Mason,
“when I inquired of this Captain Cottle about
the nature of the ground at the Ford, behold, he had

not taken notice of it! but, on cross-examination,
by finding what he did not see, I am satisfied that
there is no low ground, nor cleared land at the place;
that the hills come sheer down to the river, and, by
almost necessary consequence, that the road leads
through a deep defile. The choice of such a place
confirms my suspicion of Douglas's plan, and affords
the means to counterwork it. If we occupy the
strong points of the ground, and he comes with only
such a body of men as Cottle expects, we take him
without effusion of blood. If he comes in force, our
position will give us all the advantage he seeks;
and, trust me, in that case we shall have need of
them.”

“Need of advantages against irregulars!” drawled
Trevor, sneeringly, and emphasizing every word.

“Our discipline and experience are of little consequence,”
said Mason, “if we do not use them.
One use of them is to know how to take advantages.”

“Be it so,” said Trevor; “I shall seek none. A
fair field and a clear sky are all I ask; and I shall
be careful to take no measures which may alarm this
mountain wolf, and drive him back to his den before
I can come up with him.”

These words were hardly spoken when the Orderly
announced that a sergeant of dragoons had just
returned from a scouting party with important intelligence,
and had come to make his report to the

Colonel. What this was the reader will infer, when
told that he was the non-commissioned officer on
whom had devolved the command of the four men
who had escaped with him from Jones's Ford. His
information confirmed Mason's suspicions, and might
have served as a damper to the flattering anticipations
of a man less sanguine than Colonel Trevor.
Its only effect on him was to sharpen his eagerness
for the expected rencontre. Yet the Sergeant, when
questioned, frankly admitted that his party had not
been out-numbered. But it was clear that their design
had been, by some means, disclosed to Douglas;
and his advantage had been the result of judicious
dispositions, and the skill of his men in the use of
that most terrible of all weapons.

But all this abated nothing of Colonel Trevor's
contempt for a foe unskilled in the manual exercise,
ignorant of the grand manoelig;uvres, and dressed in
buckskin. Every attempt on the part of Col. Mason
to bring him to listen to reason proved fruitless.
Indeed the conversation occasionally took such a
turn as to create a doubt in the mind of that gentleman,
whether to press his advice any farther might
not make it difficult to reconcile with his own self-respect
the deference which he knew to be due to
his commander. He therefore determined to receive
and execute in silence all orders which might be
given, and leave the event to Providence.