University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
AN ADVENTURE.

Let us follow the Captain.

Mounted on his beautiful steed, he set forward, utterly
careless whither his steps tended—leaving philosophically
to the intelligent animal this portion of the matter. The
horse took the road toward the mountains, as if he knew
where his master's heart was.

“Very well,” said the Captain, “that suits me, Monsieur
Selim, perfectly well. If you put forth that speed of
yours, you will reach them in a day, or less!—Strange,”
continued the soldier, “how that girl has won upon me!
By heaven, she's an angel—but faith! I can't go so far to-day
—I am intensely lazy. What a day to be lazy in, too!
It's extravagant.”

And the soldier looked admiringly at the trees just putting
forth their tender leaves, the grass just beginning to
peep up and lie a verdant background, for a thousand flowers;
the little streams dancing along joyously in the gay
sunlight. He listened, with pleasure, to the small birds
which chirruped gayly, and plumed their wings in the fresh
bracing wind of March, and went rising and falling on the
air billows, predicting summer and warmth. All pleased
him. On the day before there had been quite a heavy fall of
rain, and all the streams were swollen, and overflowed their
banks. The Captain had more than one of these to cross

in his path, but seemed to attach very little importance to
them. He allowed the water to splash his boots with great
indifference, and rode on carelessly, humming a merry song
all about Marshal Soubise and the great Frederic. The
soldier's voice was excellent, and he gave the “Tra la! tra
la!” with great force and spirit—completely to his own
satisfaction, indeed.

He came thus, singing merrily, and looking around him,
with the roving and curious eye of the partisan, to one of
those hollows in the hills, such as are found frequently in
all portions of Virginia. The road which had for a mile or
two traversed a species of wooded upland, now descended
abruptly into the gorge, and mounted the thickly firred declivity
beyond. Through the gorge ran a deep stream,
which, swollen by the rain, had overflowed its banks, and
now rushed on under swaying pine boughs, with a merry
brawl, which sounded far from unpleasantly. The sunshine
gilded the rushing stream, the bold hill beyond, the thick
firs, and rude masses of rock: and so picturesque was the
scene, that Captain Ralph paused a moment, and looked at
it admiringly.

His fit of admiration soon subsided, however, and touching
his horse lightly, he passed down the steep road, having
resumed his song with new spirit. Selim hesitated a moment,
as he was about to place his delicate hoof in the water.

“Tra la! tra la!” came from the soldier's lungs lustily,
and apparently satisfied that this signified “go on!” the
beautiful animal plunged into the water. In an instant his
back was covered, and Captain Ralph Waters experienced
a disagreeable sensation about the lower part of his person.

“Morbleu! we are in for it!” he cried, drawing up his
knees, despairingly.

Selim snorted, and began to swim.

“Right!” cried the soldier; “Go on, comrade! What
is a trifling wetting!”

And in defiance of the obstacle, the Captain began again,
more lustily than before, to troll his ditty. Selim swam
vigorously; dashed the water from his glowing chest, and by
the time his master had arrived at the chorus of his song,
reached the opposite bank.

He emerged from the water like a statue of glittering
ebony, and the soldier, with a careless shake of his clothes,
was about to proceed onward, when suddenly his attention
was attracted to the opposite declivity, which, as we have
said, was singularly steep and rugged.

Down this road there now came, at full speed, a chariot
drawn by four spirited horses, who had plainly run away, for
the coachman in vain endeavored to check them, by vigorously
tightening the reins, and uttering violent cries.

The animals, with their rosetted heads fixed obstinately
sidewise, took no notice of these signs, and swept onward at
a gallop down the declivity toward the stream, dragging the
huge chariot like a mere nutshell, rudely over the stones.
At every bound the framework cracked, at every stone the
unwieldly vehicle rumbled and groaned.

“Parbleu! here will be a smash!” cried the Captain,
as the animals rushed towards him; “in an instant they will
be buried in that stream!”

At the same moment, the head of a gentleman emerged
from the door, and over his shoulders were seen the affrighted
faces of two young girls.

“Women, morbleu!” cried the soldier; “to the rescue!”

And as the furious animals rushed headlong toward the
stream, he caught, with a powerful hand, the bridle of the
leader next to him, and exerting all his strength, made him
swerve.

Selim reared and fell upon his haunches, as the hot mouth
of the animal struck his neck, and the Captain, clinging like
a vice to the rein he had grasped, was drawn half from his
saddle. The other leader, checked thus suddenly, reared,
and his hoof struck the Captain's arm heavily.

In another instant he would have been hurled, in spite
of his great strength and activity, beneath the feet of the
animals, when the gentleman whose head he had seen, and
the coachman, both came to his assistance, and the coach-horses,
still struggling, panting, and furious, were subdued.

The Captain rose erect in his saddle again, and seeing
the terrified faces of the ladies at the window of the chariot,
took off his hat with his left hand, and made an elegant
bow.

“Excuse my rudeness, Mesdemoiselles,” he said, “that
devil of an animal has nearly broken my right arm, parbleu!”

And the soldier made a wry face, as he tried to move it.

“I owe you a great many thanks, sir,” said the gentleman,
who had now abandoned the horses to the coachman;
“we should have run great risk here—indeed, I may say
that you saved our lives.”

“Not at all, not all—no thanks,” said the Captain; “but
faith you would have got a wetting, sir; and I very much
fear those charming young ladies would have had their silks
and velvets utterly demolished. Upon reflection, I am convinced
that so far they owe me thanks.”

“Pray let us know then, whom to return them to,” said
the gentleman, with a courteous smile.

“To Captain Ralph Waters—sometimes called the
Chevalier Waters, and the Chevalier La Rivière, by the
rascally French, who translate every thing, parbleu!” said
the soldier.

“Then, Captain, myself and my daughters are deeply
in your debt. My name is Lee, and I insist upon your going
with us to my house at Riverhead, to have your bruise
dressed.”

“My bruise? Oh yes! I had forgotten it: but, excellent
sir, I do not attach importance to these trifles. A
bruise, more or less? Basta! tis nothing. Still I will
gladly go with you, for I am dying of ennui.”

“Thanks, sir—now let us see to the means of returning”

The coachman soon reassured Mr. Lee upon this point.
The horses were now quiet, he said, and would go along easily.
They could not cross Duck creek, as it was too deep,
but the horses could be turned, and they could take the
cross-road to Riverhead. So the horses were turned, and
Mr. Lee, entering the carriage, the huge vehicle rolled up
the hill which it had descended so rapidly, and took the direction
of Riverhead; Captain Ralph Waters following
composedly by the window, and when not exchanging compliments
with the ladies, continuing to hum in a low voice,
his “Tra la! tra la!”