Peggy Owen at Yorktown Part 28

"I suppose it would," he replied grumblingly. "But I don't like it one bit that you are here among all the movements of the two armies. See here, Peggy! The thing to do is to get you home, and I'm going to take you there."

"Will thee, John?" cried Peggy in delight. "How good thee is! Oh, 'tis a way opened at last. But won't it cause thee a great deal of trouble?"

"So much, my little cousin, that we will not permit him to undertake it," spoke the wrathful tones of her cousin. "I am sorry to interrupt so interesting a conversation, but 'tis necessary to explain to this,-well, gentleman, that 'tis not at all necessary for him to trouble concerning your welfare. I am amply able to care for you."

"Clifford!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Peggy starting up in surprise, and confronting the youth, who had approached them unnoticed.

"Yes, Clifford," returned the lad who was evidently in a pa.s.sion. "'Tis quite time that Clifford came, is it not? As I was saying, 'twill not do to take this gentleman from his arduous duties. This Yankee captain meddles altogether too much in our private affairs. It is not at all to my liking."

"So?" remarked Drayton cheerfully. He had not changed his position, but sat slightly smiling, eyeing the other youth curiously.

"No, sir," repeated Clifford heatedly. "We will not trouble you, sir.

Further, we can dispense with your presence immediately."

"That," observed Drayton s.h.i.+fting his position to one of more ease, "that, sir, is for Peggy to decide."

"My cousin's name is Mistress Margaret Owen," cried Clifford. "You will oblige me by using it so when 'tis necessary to address her. Better still, pleasure me by not speaking to her at all."

"Clifford, thou art beside thyself," cried Peggy who had been too astonished at the att.i.tude of her cousin to speak. "John is a dear friend. I have known him longer than I have thee, and--"

"Peggy, keep out of this affair, I beg," cried he stiffly. "The matter lies betwixt this fellow and myself. Captain, I cry you pardon, sir,"-interrupting himself to favor Drayton with an ironic bow,-"I fear me that I rank you too high. Lieutenant, is't not?"

"Nay, captain. Captain Drayton, at your service, sir." The American arose slowly, and made a profound obeisance. "Methinks at our last little chat I remarked that perchance another victory would so honor me.

'Twas at Hobkirk's Hill."

"You said a victory, sir," cried the other with pa.s.sion. "Hobkirk's Hill was a defeat for the rebels."

"A defeat, I grant you." Drayton picked a thread of lint from his sleeve, and puffed it airily from him. "A defeat so fraught with disaster to the victors that many more such would annihilate the whole British army. A defeat so calamitous in effect that Lord Rawdon could no longer hold Camden after inflicting it, and so evacuated that place."

"'Tis false," raged Clifford Owen. "If Lord Rawdon held Camden, he still holds it. He would evacuate no post held by him."

"Perchance there are other war news that might be of interest," went on Drayton provokingly, evidently enjoying the other's rage. "I have the honor to inform you, sir, that Fort Watson, Fort Motte and Granby all have surrendered to the rebels. They have proceeded to Ninety Six, and are holding that place in a state of siege. The next express will doubtless bring intelligence of its fall. Permit me, sir, to felicitate you upon the extreme prowess of the British army."

"And what, sir, is the American army?" stormed Clifford. "A company of tinkers and locksmiths. A lot of riffraff and ragam.u.f.fins. What is your Was.h.i.+ngton but a planter? And your much-lauded commander in the South?

What is he but a smith? A smith?" he scoffed sneeringly. "Odds life, sir! can an army be made of such ilk?"

"The planter hath sent two of your trained generals packing," retorted Drayton. "The first left by the only 'Gate' left open by the siege; the other did not know 'Howe' to take root in this new soil. The third remains in New York like a mouse in a trap, afraid to come out lest he should be pounced upon. Our smith--" he laughed merrily. "His hammer hath been swung to such purpose that my Lord Cornwallis hath been knocked out of the Carolinas, and the South is all but retaken.

Training! Poof! 'Tis not needed by tinkers and locksmiths to fight the English."

"Draw and defend yourself," roared the English lad, whipping out his sword furiously. "Such insult can only be wiped out in blood."

"Thou shalt not," screamed Peggy throwing herself before him. "Thou shalt not. I forbid it. 'Twould be murder."

"This is man's affair, my cousin," he said sternly. "Stand aside."

"I will not, Clifford," cried the girl. "I will not. Oh, to draw sword on each other is monstrous. For a principle, in defense of liberty, then it may be permitted; but this deliberate seeking of another's life in private quarrel is murder. Clifford! John! I entreat ye both to desist."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "DRAW AND DEFEND YOURSELF!"]

"She is right, sir," spoke Drayton. "This is in truth neither time nor place to settle our differences."

"And where shall we find a better?" cried Clifford, who was beside himself with rage. "If you wish not to bear the stigma of cowardice, you must draw."

But Drayton made no motion toward his sword.

"Nay," he said. "'Tis not fitting before her. I confess that I was wrong to further provoke you when I saw you in pa.s.sion. In truth you were so heated that to exasperate you more gave me somewhat of pleasure. I cry you pardon. There will no doubt be occasion more suitable--"

"I decline to receive your apology, sir," retorted Clifford Owen hotly.

"Perchance a more suitable occasion in your eyes would be when I am at the disadvantage of being a prisoner. Or, perchance, you find it convenient to hide behind my cousin's petticoats. Once more, sir; for the last time: If you have honor, if you are not a poltroon as well as a braggart and a boaster, draw and defend yourself."

"It will have to be, Peggy," said Drayton leading her aside. "There will be bad blood until this is settled, and your cousin hath gone too far.

Suffer it to go on, I entreat."

"'Tis murder," she wailed weeping. "Thou art my dear friend. Clifford is my dear cousin. Oh, I pray ye both to desist."

"If you flout me longer I will cut you down where you stand," roared the British youth fiercely. "Is it not enough that I must beg for the satisfaction that gentlemen usually accord each other upon a hint?"

Drayton wheeled, and faced him jauntily.

"'Tis pity to keep so much valor waiting," he said saluting. "On guard, my friend."

CHAPTER XXV-HER NEAREST RELATIVE

"In all trade of war no feat Is n.o.bler than a brave retreat; For those that run away and fly Take place at least of the enemy."

-Samuel Butler.

Fearful of what might result from the encounter Peggy hid her face in her hands as the two youths crossed swords. But at the first meeting of the blades, impelled by that strange fascination which such combats hold for the best of mortals, she uncovered her eyes and watched the duel breathlessly.

Clifford, white and wrathful, fuming over Drayton's last quip, at once took the initiative, and advanced upon his adversary with a vehemence that evidenced his emotion plainly. Drayton, on the contrary, was cool and even merry, and parried his opponent's thrusts with adroitness. Both lads evinced no small skill with the weapons, and had Peggy been other than a very much distressed damsel she might have enjoyed some pretty sword play.

The wrist of each youth was strong and supple. Each sword seemed like a flexible reed from the point to the middle of the blade, and inflexible steel from thence to the guard. They were well matched, and some moments pa.s.sed before either of them secured the advantage.

It was quiet in the grove. No sound could be heard save the clash of steel and the deep breathing of the contestants. No bird note came from tree or bush. Not a leaf stirred. A hush had fallen upon the summer afternoon. To the maiden it seemed as though Nature, affrighted by the wild pa.s.sions of men which must seek expression in private fray despite the fact that their countries were embroiled in war, had sunk into terrified silence.

Presently, even to Peggy's inexperienced eye, it became apparent that Clifford was tiring. Drayton, who from the beginning of the encounter had fought purely on the defensive, was quick to perceive the other's fatigue. Suddenly with a vigorous side-thrust he twisted the sword from his antagonist's grasp, and sent it glittering in the air. Finding himself disarmed Clifford quickly stepped backward two or three steps.

In so doing his foot slipped, and he fell. Instantly Drayton stood over his prostrate form.

"Forbear, John," shrieked Peggy in horrified tones. "Thee must not. Is he not helpless?"

"Have no fear, Peggy," answered the young man lightly. "He shall meet with no hurt, though in truth he merits it. Sir," to Clifford who lay regarding him with a look of profound humiliation, "you hear, do you not? I spare you because of her. And also because I am much to blame that matters have come to this pa.s.s betwixt us. Rise, sir!"

"I want no mercy at your hands," retorted the other, his flushed face, his whole manner testifying to his deep mortification. "You have won the advantage, sir. Use it. I wish no favor from you."