Peggy Owen at Yorktown Part 27

"And do you stay in the grove until these British are gone, my dear,"

she advised Peggy. "I will feel better to have you down there out of their sight. Jimmy shall come for you as soon as they are gone. You won't mind?"

"I shall like it," answered Peggy. "Come, friend."

"I will have to ride hard and fast, Mistress Peggy," said Fairfax. When they reached the grove a few moments later he removed Peggy's saddle, strapped on a blanket, and unfastened the bridle. "It may be the last time you will see your little mare."

"I know," she answered. Winding her arms about the pony's neck she laid her head upon the silken mane, and so stood while the lad doffed the osnaburg frock and disfiguring turban. As he swung himself lightly to Star's back the girl looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.

"Friend Fairfax," she said, "thee is so brave. Yet I have laughed at thee."

"Brave? No," he responded. "'Tis duty."

"But I have laughed at thee because of thy shyness," repeated the girl remorsefully. "Thee always seems so afraid of us females, yet thee can do this, or aught else that is for thy country. Why is it?"

Over his face the red blood ran. He sat for the briefest second regarding her with a puzzled air.

"To defend the country from the invader, to do anything that can be done to thwart the enemy's designs, is man's duty," he said at length. "But to face a battery of bright eyes requires courage, Mistress Peggy. And that I have not."

The words were scarcely uttered before he was gone.

The British were at the house, and some of them might stray into her retreat at any moment; the youth who had started forth so bravely might fail to give his warning in time to save the men upon whom the welfare of the state depended; she might never see her own little mare again; but, in spite of all these things the maiden sank upon a rock shaken with laughter.

"The dear, shy fellow!" she gasped sitting up presently to wipe her eyes. "And he hath no courage! Ah, Betty! thy 'Silent Knight' hath spoken to some purpose at last. I must remember the exact words. Let me see! He said:

"'To defend the country from the invader, to do anything that can be done to thwart the enemy's designs, is man's duty. But to face a battery of bright eyes requires courage, Mistress Peggy. And that I have not.'

"Won't the girls laugh when I tell them?"

It was pleasant under the trees. An oriole swung from the topmost bough of a large oak pouring forth a flood of song. Woodp.e.c.k.e.rs flapped their bright wings from tree to tree. A mult.i.tude of sparrows flashed in and out of the foliage, or circled joyously about blossoming shrubs. From distant fields and forests the caw of the crows winging their slow way across the blue sky came monotonously. A cloud of yellow b.u.t.terflies rested upon the low banks of the ravine crowned with ferns. Into the heart of a wild honeysuckle a humming-bird whirred, delighting Peggy by its beauty, minuteness and ceaseless motion of its wings. And so the long hours of the afternoon pa.s.sed, and the westering sun was casting long shadows under the trees before Jimmy came with the news that the British had gone.

"And wasn't that Colonel Tarleton in a towering rage," commented the mistress of the dwelling as Peggy reentered the house. "He stormed because dinner was so late. And such a dinner. I'll warrant those troopers won't find hard riding so easy after it. Thomas Jefferson and Patrick Henry will owe a great deal to fried chicken, if they get warned in time. It took every chicken I had on the place, and not a few hams.

But it gave that boy a good start, so I don't mind. Do you think he'll get through, my dear?"

"Yes, I do," answered Peggy. "If it can be done I feel sure that Fairfax Johnson can do it. I must tell thee what he said," she ended with a laugh. "It hath much amused me."

"I don't wonder that you were amused," observed the good woman, laughing in turn as Peggy related the youth's speech. "Those same batteries have brought low many a brave fellow. 'Tis as well to be afraid of them. He is wise who is ware in time. Yet those same bashful fellows are ofttimes the bravest. Methinks I have heard that General Was.h.i.+ngton was afflicted with the same malady in his youth. And now let us hope that we will have a breathing spell long enough to become acquainted with each other."

Four days later a weary, drooping youth astride a limping little mare came slowly down the shady lane just at sunset. Peggy was the first to see them, and flew to the horse-block.

"Oh, thee is back, Friend Fairfax! Thee is back!" she cried delightedly.

"And did thee succeed? How tired thee looks! And Star also!"

"We are both tired," he said dismounting and sinking heavily against the horse-block. "But we got there in time. Governor Jefferson and his family escaped over the mountains. Mr. Henry and others scattered to places of safety. They captured seven, because they heeded not the alarm, and lingered over breakfast. But not-not Patrick Henry nor Thomas Jefferson."

He swayed as though about to fall, then roused himself.

"Look to the mare! She, she needs attention," he cried, and fell in an unconscious heap.

"And somebody else does too, I reckon," spoke the mistress of the dwelling, running out in answer to Peggy's call. "Jimmy, do you begin rubbing down that little mare. I'll be out to look after her as soon as Peggy and I get this boy attended to. Poor fellow! he has gone to the full limit of his strength."

CHAPTER XXIV-AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

"Then each at once his falchion drew, Each on the ground his scabbard threw, Each look'd to sun, and stream, and plain, As what they ne'er might see again; Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, In dubious strife they darkly closed."

-"Lady of the Lake," Scott.

There followed some days of quiet at the farmhouse. Their peacefulness was gladly welcomed by the inmates after the turmoil caused by pa.s.sing troops, and Peggy and her hostess, Mrs. Weston, hoped for a continuance of the boon. But if the days were tranquil they were far from idle.

Beside the household tasks there were Fairfax Johnson to be cared for, and the little mare to be brought back to condition. Peggy found herself almost happy in a.s.sisting in these duties, so true is it that occupation brings solace to sorely tried hearts.

The youth's illness soon pa.s.sed, but there remained the necessity for rest and nourishment. Rest he could have in plenty, but they were hard pressed to furnish the proper nourishment. The place had been stripped of almost everything, and had it not been for the grove where a few cows shared Star's hiding-place, and an adjoining swamp in whose recesses Mrs. Weston had prudently stored some supplies the household must have suffered for the lack of the merest necessities. Still if they could remain unmolested they could bear scanty rations; so cheerfully they performed their daily tasks, praying that things would continue as they were.

If there was peace at the farmhouse it was more than could be said for the rest of the state. Hard on the heels of Lafayette Cornwallis followed, cutting a swath of desolation and ruin. Tarleton and Simcoe rode wherever they would, committing such enormities that the people forgot them only with death. Virginia, the last state of the thirteen to be invaded, was harried as New Jersey had been, but by troops made less merciful by the long, fierce conflict.

Hither and thither flitted Lafayette, too weak to suffer even defeat, progressing ever northward, and drawing his foe after him from tide-water almost to the mountains. Finding it impossible to come up with his youthful adversary, or to prevent the junction of that same adversary's forces with those of Wayne, Cornwallis turned finally, and leisurely made his way back toward the seacoast. He had profited by Greene's salutary lesson, and did not propose to be drawn again from a base where reinforcements and supplies could reach him. Information of these happenings gradually reached the farmhouse, filling its inmates with the gravest apprehensions.

One warm, bright afternoon in June Peggy left the house for her daily visit to Star. With the caution that she always used in approaching the hiding-place of her pet the girl reached the grove by a circuitous route. A sort of rude stable, made of branches and underbrush set against ridge poles, had been erected for the pony's accommodation, and as she drew near this enclosure Peggy heard the voice of some one speaking. Filled with alarm for the safety of her mare she stole softly forward to listen. Yes; there was certainly some one with the animal. As she stood debating what was to be done, she was amazed to hear the following speech made in a wondering tone:

"Now just why should you be down here in Virginia when your proper place is in a stable in Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Star? Hath some magic art whisked you here, or what hath happened? I wish thee could speak, as Peggy would say, so that thee could unravel the matter for me."

"John! John Drayton!" screamed Peggy joyfully running forward. "How did thee get here? I thought thee was in South Carolina. 'Tis Peggy, John."

"Peggy?" exclaimed Drayton, issuing from the enclosure. "Peggy! I see it is," he said regarding her with blank amazement. "But how did you get here? I thought you safe at home in Philadelphia?"

"'Tis a long story," cried she, half crying. "And oh, John! does thee know that Cornwallis is fast approaching this point with his army? Is't not dangerous for thee to be here?"

"Nay," he replied. "I seek his lords.h.i.+p."

"Thee what?" she cried, amazed.

"Never mind about it now, Peggy," he said drawing her under the shade of a tree. "Sit down and tell me how you came here. Is it the 'cousins'

again?"

"Yes, 'tis the cousins," answered the maiden flus.h.i.+ng. "I could not do other than come, John. Mother and I did not know that the enemy had invaded the state. At least," correcting herself quickly, "we did know that General Arnold had made a foray in January, but 'twas deemed by many as but a predatory incursion, and, as we heard no more of it, we thought he had returned to New York. I saw him, and spoke with him, John," she ended sadly.

"But the cousins, Peggy! The rest can wait until you tell me what new quidnunc tale was invented to lure you here."

"Thee must not speak so, John," she reproached him. "Thee will be sorry when I tell thee about Clifford's illness. He was nigh to death, in truth, but 'twas not for me he sent, but his own sister Harriet."

Forthwith she related all the occurrences that had led to her coming.

Drayton listened attentively.

"I wish that you and your mother were not so kind hearted," he remarked when she had finished her narrative. "No, I don't mean that exactly. I could not, after all that you did for me. But from the bottom of my heart I do wish that those relatives of yours would go back to England and stay there. They are continually getting you into trouble."

"Would thee have us refuse my kinsman's plea?" she asked him. "'Twould have been inhuman not to respond to such an appeal."