Rodney, the Ranger Part 32

"You are kind, and I wish you would call again. I expected you would be in the army. As I remember, you were a l.u.s.ty young rebel when I knew you."

"I served with Colonel Morgan's Rangers at the capture of Burgoyne."

It must be admitted there was a touch of malice in these words and the tone in which the lad spoke them.

"So I'm still further indebted to you. Well, as you are responsible for my being here, I hope you will feel under obligations to call again when I am better able to entertain company. By the way, did you ever know a man by the name of David Cameron? Why I ask is because you resemble a man by that name, whom I once knew."

"That was my father's name," replied Rodney, and the next instant he could have bitten his tongue. He quickly added: "My father, after coming to this country, had good reasons for taking the name of his mother's people, the Allisons, not that he had any occasion to be ashamed of the name of Cameron. Now that he is dead we shall retain the name of Allison."

"As I remember your father, he had no occasion to be ashamed of anything, except, possibly, some of his acquaintances. So David is dead."

"My father was a man who kept good company to the day of his death."

"He was a very kind-hearted man, and such cannot always keep what you term 'good company.' May I ask you to send here some worthy lawyer or trustworthy justice of the peace? I have some transactions which I wish to discuss with such a person. You, being the son of your father, I know will do that for me."

"Where and when did you know my father?"

"More than twenty years ago in London. When did he die, Rodney?"

"He was killed at the battle of Point Pleasant at the time we were out in the Ohio country."

"Four years ago. Do you come often to the camp?"

"Frequently."

"Will it be asking too much for you to look in on me, as they say?"

"I will do as you wish."

As Rodney rode away he thought much upon the strange man he had left.

Evidently he was one whom his father had befriended. And the rascal had tried to rob his benefactor's son. Probably, what with the illness and all, the fellow's conscience twinged a little. Anyhow, he should have the lawyer though it were better he should have the clergyman, thought the lad.

That night Rodney found it difficult to put thoughts of the sick man out of his mind and, when a few days later he again had occasion to visit the camp, he took along with him some delicacies which he thought might tempt the patient's appet.i.te.

"So you didn't forget me. What's this? Something besides camp fare?

Oh, yes, you are David Cameron's son, but you've got a life work ahead if you live up to his standard."

"I believe you, sir."

"Would you be willing to send this letter? I suppose it will reach Philadelphia in a few days. By the way, did your father come to Charlottesville from London?"

"No. He lived nearly eighteen years down in Prince William County. He was employed there much of the time by Squire Danesford."

"Danesford! Did he have a daughter about your own age?"

"Yes. Lisbeth. She was in Philadelphia the last I knew of her. I heard the other day that the state had seized their estate. Danesford is a bitter Tory, you know."

"Danesford died a poor man in London last April. His daughter, I understand, died about three months later. At least the person to whom that letter is addressed wrote me she couldn't live."

"Are--are you sure? I didn't even know she was sick."

The man looked keenly at his caller. "I have no reason to doubt the report. It was said she took her father's death very much to heart, and, what with not being well,--she had nursed a friend, I think,--she was taken down with a fever. You must have known her?

"Why, she was my playmate. I--I can't realize she's dead." Then hurriedly saying good-bye he went away, seeing little and thinking much, and the "Chevalier" lay looking at the blank wall.

On arriving home Rodney went directly to his room. He shrank from telling the news to his mother. He must first think it over. The girl in the red cloak who had stamped her foot and called him a simpleton, ah, she was the one he missed, and not her who had laughed in his face that winter night and wheedled him as she laughed.

Mrs. Allison was greatly shocked. Rodney had been ashamed to tell his mother of the time Lisbeth had tricked him, and now it somehow seemed disloyal to the girl to speak of it. Well, he would forget it, and so resolving he worked as never before. There was work to do, both for himself and Zeb; moreover, it was profitable.

When he next had occasion to visit the encampment he called on the "Chevalier" as soon as he arrived. All the way to the camp the question had been in his mind: How did it happen that the man knew the Danesfords, spoke of them as persons with whom he was quite familiar?

He met Angus, who said, "Ridin' back along soon?" and, on being told, replied, "I reckon I'll wait fer ye."

Rodney found the "Chevalier" unusually bright and nimble of wit. "I suppose, Allison, you think the war is over with the surrender of Burgoyne? Most of your people lose no opportunity to express that opinion. I notice, however, that the British army marches about the country pretty much as it pleases. Why, my lad, the war is just begun."

"Certainly it's a good beginning," was the lad's rather dry response.

The "Chevalier" appreciated it. There was a twinkle in his eyes. It was evident he liked to draw Rodney out. He said: "What would you people do if by some accident, for you can never hope to win unless some other powerful nation helps you, what would you do if you should win? All the colonies would be by the ears in less than a year."

"Perhaps you never heard what 'Sam' Adams told the Quakers who said they wished to obey such government as the Lord placed over them."

"What did he say?"

"He told them the Lord was providing a government."

"Don't you think this so-called government, where Congress may only humbly ask the several colonies, each to do its part, a pretty poor sort of government to lay at the Lord's door? Why, once these colonies get clear of England, they'll fight among themselves. But, even if they didn't, the country would have a patchwork of little petty governments and nothing in common to make them strong."

"Do you remember what Gadsden said at New York at the meeting held in protest against the Stamp Act?"

"No; what was it?"

"He said: 'There ought to be no New England man, no New Yorker known on the continent; but all of us, Americans.' I well remember father speaking of that. There was a queer codger who joined the Rangers. The men, because of his long legs, named him 'Lopin' Luther,' and he once said: 'We're fightin' fer free Englishmen as well as Americans, only the darn fools don't know it.'"

"You mean, or rather he meant, the principle involved. But, from what I have learned, the more of what the people term freedom they have, the more they want."

"And why not? Whoever called you the 'Cavalier,' evidently knew why he did so."

The man's face became grave. He said: "I am not worthy of the name. I have great respect for those who were known as Cavaliers. Some of your best blood in the Old Dominion descended from them. I believe it isn't so much what people have as the way they use it. I've seen those who were getting along finely until something more was added to them, then make a failure of it. Take your hero, Morgan; what did he have but his own courage and brains and powerful body? He's made the most of what he had. Had he been born a duke he might not have done so well."

"Could he have done what he has in your country, where your dukes are born with the privilege of lording it over the Morgans?"

"Rodney, you argue well. Where did you learn? I forget your father.

You are indeed his son. Must you go? Well, here is a packet, of which I wish you to take charge. When you learn that I am dead, and the doctor tells me my heart is about worn out, you are to open the packet and I am sure will do right with what you find there."

Rodney hesitated, and the man, noticing his hesitation, said, "You will not regret it. You believe me, don't you?"

Looking into the face of the man, Rodney had it not in his heart to say no. Somehow, and he was almost ashamed to admit it to himself, he did believe. This man, who, under the guise of friendliness, once had robbed him, this gambler, literally compelled his liking.

When Allison had finished the business for which he had come, and was about to leave, he noticed the camp doctor hurrying to the Chevalier's cabin. With fear in his heart he followed. The fear was realized. The man who had been known to him as the "Chevalier" was dead. Rodney helped prepare the body. He had performed similar services for friends who had died in camp. It was not a duty from which he would flinch.