Rodney, the Ranger Part 31

What is more grateful to a weak, weary mortal on a hot morning than a snug seat under the shade of a tree, stirred by a gentle breeze from the river? Rodney Allison could think of nothing, and sank into the seat with a sigh of relief.

This was his first attempt at walking abroad since his illness, during which the British had left Philadelphia and returned to New York, pursued and hara.s.sed by the Americans. That morning Captain Enderwood had left him, and, when he had inquired for his bill, he was told that it had been paid. He had been dimly conscious during his illness of the presence of a nurse other than Enderwood, but when he had asked about it the captain had ignored the question and talked about something else. Surely he was indebted to some one for his life and life was very sweet this July morning.

"When d'ye leave yer grave?"

"h.e.l.lo, Zeb! I was thinking about you, and wondering if we'd ever meet again."

"An' I was thinkin' the same thing when I got sight o' you an'

concluded we wouldn't."

"Concluded we wouldn't?"

"Ye see, I 'lowed 'twas only yer ghost I was lookin' at. Ye've either had poor victuals or a poor appet.i.te."

Rodney had the first hearty laugh he enjoyed for months and replied, "I've been pretty sick and am lucky to have any sort of looks left.

But what are you doing in Philadelphia?"

"I'm hangin' around this town hopin' the schooner Betsy has escaped the British and will bring my wife."

"Your wife?"

"All the result o' my furlough in Boston."

"So Melicite, of whom Donald Lovell told me so much, consented. Zeb, you're a born conqueror. When you found you couldn't capture Canada you won a wife."

"More to my likin' than the whole o' Canada. Now I'm wonderin' how I'm goin' to support her. A soldier's pay for a month won't buy more'n a pinch o' salt, an' salt ain't very fillin' 'thout somethin' to go along with it."

"Well, I know where we can get a square meal, though it won't taste as good as that roast pig down in Jersey. Will you go with me?"

"Certain sure I'll go. I reckon thar be no good o' my hangin' round any longer to-day."

As they walked down Chestnut Street Rodney saw a familiar figure approaching.

"Zeb, there comes one of the greatest men in the country, Thomas Jefferson. Wonder if he'll remember me."

He was not left long in doubt. Mr. Jefferson's face was careworn and noticeably older than when Rodney had last seen him, and the lad was but a shadow of his former self, yet the man recognized him the moment they met.

"How is my young friend this morning? You've had an illness."

"I am just up from a fever. Mr. Jefferson, I want you to know my friend, one of Morgan's Rangers, Mr. Campbell, or Zeb, as we call him.

He's been to me almost as good a friend as you."

"I'm always glad to meet your friends, Rodney. What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting till I get strength enough to go back to Charlottesville.

I was taken prisoner and am on parole and I think home is the best place for me."

"Charlottesville is a good place at all times, especially now that Burgoyne's troops are imprisoned there. I should think you might also find it profitable to return, for the prisoners kept there have put money in circulation and made work. By the way, I haven't seen you since you sold your horse to my overseer. I felt badly about that because I knew you didn't let him go without a sacrifice. I will give you a letter and when you get back you take it to Monticello and get the colt. You can pay me at your convenience."

This was unexpected good fortune, and Rodney felt very grateful. "I wish I had Nat here. I would start to-morrow," he remarked to Zeb as they walked on.

"Thar seems to be no such thing as complete satisfaction in this world. Now, if I had a home fer Melicite an' me to go to, well, I reckon I'd be a little easier in mind."

"Come to Charlottesville with me. You heard what Mr. Jefferson said about business being brisk there. It's only a little village, but we'll find some way to turn a dollar. You've got to come, unless you can find something better."

And so it happened that Rodney and his friend and Melicite, who arrived in due time, all found their way to Charlottesville, and also found home and opportunity.

Rodney was surprised on his first visit to the quarters of the "Convention troops," as they were called. On Colonel Harvey's estate, about five miles distant from the Court House at Charlottesville, barracks and camps had been erected for the prisoners, who were constructing a building to be used as a theatre. Many of them had vegetable gardens, one officer, it was said, having spent nearly five hundred dollars for seed to be planted by his men.

When these prisoners had arrived there the previous winter, after a march of over seven hundred miles from Ma.s.sachusetts, the hillside, which now bloomed, was desolate and bleak. But few buildings had been erected, and about the only provisions obtainable were corn meal and water. All that had been changed as by magic, and many of the poor fellows had not known such comfort since leaving their homes in England, while most of the Hessians were faring better than they ever had done at home.

It will be recalled that Gates had weakly consented to terms which allowed Burgoyne's soldiers to be transported to England on condition they should not fight against America. He was so eager to secure a surrender, that he evidently did not stop to consider that these soldiers could be used in England to replace those stationed there, who in turn could be sent to America. Shrewder men were quick to see the mistake and to take advantage of any circ.u.mstance to prevent it.

Such a circ.u.mstance was afforded by Burgoyne himself, who, not liking the quarters a.s.signed to him in Ma.s.sachusetts, had declared the terms of the surrender had been broken. Moreover, when the Americans were ready to let the troops go on their arrival in Ma.s.sachusetts, the British would not provide transportation, and by the time they were ready the Americans had various pretexts for not complying with the terms of the surrender. The British declared their opponents acted in bad faith. Undoubtedly many Americans believed England would act in bad faith if she could get the troops back.

Zeb's att.i.tude on this question was that of many Americans. "I don't care to argue the matter," he said. "I can if necessary; the argyments been't all on one side."

Zeb would always be lame from his wound, in fact this had forced him to leave the army. "The Rangers aren't what they were," he told Rodney, "since Morgan was given another command. He was the king pin.

He had a way o' seein' the Rangers got what belonged to 'em. They knew it, an' thar was nothin' they wouldn't do for him. I mind one day he was ridin' past whar some o' the men were at work clearin' a road. Two of 'em were tryin' to roll out a big rock an' a little squirt of a sergeant was bossin'. 'Why don't ye help the men?' Morgan shouted at him. 'I'm an officer, sir,' says the sergeant. 'Oh yes,' says Morgan.

'I didn't think o' that,' an' he jumped off his horse an' helped the men roll out the rock."

Rodney's work that fall often required him to visit the prisoners'

encampment. One day, as he was pa.s.sing a cabin, he heard some one call in a faint voice for help. He rushed in and found a man lying on the floor. He helped the man to his bed and as he did so saw that he was none other than his old acquaintance, the "Chevalier."

While Allison did not feel so bitter against this man as formerly, for the reason that his recent experiences had brought him knowledge of bigger rascals than he had ever supposed this man to be, yet his feelings were far from being friendly. He nevertheless ran for the camp doctor and waited until he had declared the man out of danger for the present. Rodney heard his advice to the patient, that he keep very quiet and free from excitement, as otherwise his next attack might prove fatal.

Rodney turned back into the cabin to ask if there were anything he might do, and the look in the face of the "Chevalier" startled the lad. It quickly pa.s.sed, however, and the man quietly said: "Why, this is Rodney Allison, who saved my miserable existence out on the Scioto."

"Not much of an exploit to be remembered by. You'd have shot him if I hadn't."

"Why, you shot the redskin in the heel and, if I correctly recall my mythology, Paris required the a.s.sistance of the G.o.d, Apollo, before he was able to hit Achilles in a like spot."

"He only had a bow and arrow while I had one of the finest rifles in the country."

"Anyhow, it was an act worthy of a better return, as you no doubt concluded later."

This allusion to the gaming incident annoyed Rodney. He thought the least the fellow might do was to make no mention of that rascally affair.

"If I don't refer to that matter I see no reason for you to do so. Of late I've been a.s.sociated with men who think that, after you've rolled a man in the dirt, it isn't necessary to rub it in."

The "Chevalier" whistled and then smilingly quoted:

"'The duke, he drew out half his sword-- The guard drew out the rest.'"

"Can I do any more for you, sir?" Rodney spoke impatiently.

"You might tell me how are the mother and the little sister and about the home you feared the miser would get. You see I have a good memory for some things."

"They are well. They yet have the home, though I did my best to sacrifice it. If there's nothing I may do I will be going."