Rodney, the Ranger Part 19

The meeting with Mr. Lee was for Rodney another pleasant experience; a fine man, and what an agreeable voice he had! Then the lad turned Nat's head toward home, well pleased with the success that so far had attended his journey.

Two days of travelling brought him to the neighbourhood of his old home. He was aware of a dull ache in his throat as he rode by the school house. It seemed as if he saw his father bowed over the rude bench within. In the distance he caught a glimpse of "The Hall." There was a feeling of homesickness with it all, and he would have given all that his scant purse contained to see Lisbeth and have her know that he had become a person of some importance. Wouldn't the squire rave if he knew the errands he had in charge. Ah, but those stiff-necked Tories would have to yield!

As he rode past "The Hall" he looked long at the house. The squire galloped up behind and pa.s.sed him with a stare and a salute, not recognizing him.

"I wonder he didn't remember Nat," thought Rodney, and it was surprising because the squire was a great admirer of a good horse and knew the "points" of all the best in the county.

A little farther along lived the Roscomes. There he was sure of finding a place to spend the night. It was then about four in the afternoon. He would have time to get his supper and then ride up on the hill for one more look at the familiar view.

The Roscomes, father and son, owned but a small plantation, but their hospitality was princely and it was with difficulty he got away for the hill.

Hitching Nat in a grove at the foot, he climbed to the top just in season to see the sunset and the extended view, which had been so familiar to him, so that he felt well repaid. On his way back, and as he was unhitching the horse, he heard voices in the road which ran near the grove.

"I say, me 'earty, I've about enough o' this dirty country. I'd like to put me two legs across the back of a fine 'orse, an' I'd ask no questions of the owner."

"Right ye are, Bill. At the speed we're walkin' we'll git to Occoquan about midsummer, I'm thinkin'."

"They've 'orses in plenty 'ereabout to go with their muddy roads.

They'd not miss a couple, though they think more of a 'orse than they do of a n.i.g.g.e.r, I'm told."

"We'd have two an' ask no questions, but they've both dogs and n.i.g.g.e.rs, an' one or both always sleeps in the stable."

"I tell ye wot, d'ye mind the lad and girl go riding by when we was eatin' a bite beside the road, along back?"

"I did an' thought ridin' would do me a sight more good than them."

"They wouldn't 'ave no guns an' would be easy to scare. Suppose if we meet 'em we give 'em the 'int an' not wait for an answer?"

"We'd have the whole country at our heels."

"An' there wouldn't be a 'orse in the lot could overtake us or me eye knows not a good one."

Rodney looked to the priming of his pistols, then mounted Nat and followed slowly after the men.

CHAPTER XIX

RODNEY TO THE RESCUE

It would not be true to say that Rodney Allison was not nervous as he gripped the handle of the big pistol he drew from its holster, and c.o.c.ked it.

Whether the men were armed he did not know. If they failed to meet the two riders they sought they might conclude one horse would be better than none and attack him. Indeed, this seemed very probable; besides, if they should attack the other parties, the boy resolved he would take a hand in the affair.

A little farther on, the road on which he was riding crossed the highway leading to Roscome's. The men probably were waiting at the corner. He decided to ride slowly and await developments.

In event of attack he would spur Nat directly against them and use the pistol!

The frogs were croaking in the nearby meadow. The sound jarred on his tense nerves.

"I say, sir, be this the road to Occoquan?"

They had met some one! Rodney stopped his horse and listened. A horse whinnied, and Nat lifted his head to reply when a touch from the spur changed his mind.

A clear voice rang out, "Back, you knaves! Take your hands off that bridle!"

A girl's scream and sounds of a struggle came to the lad's ears, and he spurred ahead.

Near the corners of the roads, though now dusk had fallen, he discerned two riders on horses that were rearing and plunging. One of the riders, a man, was plying his whip over the head of the fellow who clung to his bridle; on the other horse was a girl struggling with a rascal who was trying to pull her from the animal's back. Rodney turned his attention to this one.

Not daring to fire, through fear of hitting the girl, he rode straight at the miscreant and, clubbing his pistol, struck him over the head what proved to be but a slight blow, for the man dodged, but his hold was broken and he staggered back, and Nat trampled over him. His accomplice, seeing this, fled. The girl hung by the side of her horse, one foot in the stirrup and both hands clutching his mane. Thoroughly frightened, he plunged ahead and ran wildly down the road.

"She will be dashed to death!" was the thought which flashed through Rodney's mind and, wheeling his horse, he spurred after the fleeing thoroughbred, the girl's companion galloping behind.

The spirit of a racing ancestry, and the cruel rowels, drove Nat close on the flanks of the runaway. Could he overtake and pa.s.s him?

The girl was unable to regain her seat, and at every leap of her horse was tossed, now almost touching the ground, and again almost as high as the horse's back. Could she retain her grip until Rodney might reach the bridle rein?

Every moment the boy expected to see her dashed to the ground and trampled to death under the hoofs of the running horses. He shut his eyes for an instant, and then urged faithful Nat to the utmost, and could feel his muscles respond to the strain.

Inch by inch, Nat gained on the runaway. The boy leaned far out to seize the loose bridle rein. He could not quite reach it; another foot and he would have it within his grasp. Ah! Now he gripped it and pulled both horses to a stop, crying, "Are you hurt?"

"I--I'm not--sure. Not seriously, I think; somewhat like Doctor Atterbury's prescriptions, 'well shaken before taken.'"

It was Lisbeth's voice!

"Steady, Nat. Here, let me help. Isn't your ankle wrenched? If I'd known who it was I'd been scared worse than I was."

"Why, Rodney Allison! Where in the world did you come from? I was wis.h.i.+ng some knight errant would happen along to stop Firefly; but I never imagined you in that role. I--I think you'll have to help me up, my ankle is beginning to complain at the rough treatment."

Rodney lifted Lisbeth into her saddle just as her escort and Black Tom rode up.

"Mr. Enderwood, this is my old playmate, Rodney Allison. He and I always were getting into sc.r.a.pes. I'm going to ask him to sell Nat to father so my escorts can have as good a horse as Firefly. The one you have, Mr. Enderwood, has seen his best days and was no match for mine.

But for you, Nat, I should have had a longer ride than--would have been agreeable." There was a little catch in her voice.

"So Nat gets all the glory and Enderwood is excused for being behind,"

thought Rodney, not altogether pleased, and he scarcely heard the old darky saying by way of apology: "I suttinly hab no 'scuse on 'count o'

hoss. Don' put no nose front o' yo', Moleskin," he said, patting the sleek neck of the fiery hunter he rode. "I'se 'lowin' Tom's room's better'n his comp'ny, an' was sojerin' along. But I'se boun' ter say, Ma.r.s.e Rodney, I couldn' done better myse'f."

"That's Rodney's way of doing things, you know, Tom," said Lisbeth, and the boy's feelings were somewhat soothed by the balm in her words.

"Having rescued the maid," she said, turning to him, "it's now your duty to return with her to the castle, and explain to her papa that it was none of her fault, and afford us all opportunity to thank you properly, while Aunt Betty gets out her bandages."

"I thank you, but, you see, I've made arrangements to stay over the night at Roscomes' and they are expecting me. I supped there and then thought I wanted to see the view from the hill, once more. Now I must return."

"So you were going through Pryndale without calling on your old friends."