The Little Red Foot Part 46

"Thiohero!" I called.

"I listen, my elder brother," said the little maid of Askalege.

"You shall take a trade-rifle, move out one hundred paces to the west, and halt all who come. And fire on any who refuse to halt."

"I listen," she said coolly.

"You shall call to us if you need us."

"I continue to listen."

"And if there comes a wagon, then you shall take the horses by the head and lead them this way until the fire s.h.i.+nes on their heads. Go, little sister."

She took a trade-rifle from the stack, primed it freshly, and crossed the circle on light, swift feet.

When she had gone into the darkness, I bade de Golyer kick the fire. He did so and it blazed ruddy, painting in sanguine colour the sombre, unhealthy visage of my prisoner.

"Search him," said I briefly.

Joe and my Oneida rummaged him to the buff. It was in his boots they discovered, at last, a sheaf of papers.

I could not read what was writ, for the writing was in strange signs and figures; so presently I gave over trying and looked up at my prisoner, who now had dressed again.

"You are Captain Moucher?"

He denied it hoa.r.s.ely; but I, having now no vestige of doubt concerning this miserable man's ident.i.ty, ignored his answer.

"What is this paper which was taken from your boot?"

He seemed to find no word of explanation, but breathed harder and watched my eyes.

"Is it writ in a military cipher?"

"I do not know."

"How came these papers in your boot?"

He stammered out that somebody who had cleansed his boots must have dropped them in, and that, in pulling on his boots that morning, he had neither seen nor felt the papers.

"Where did you dress this morning?"

"At the Johnson Arms in Johnstown."

"You wear the uniform of an officer in the Canajoharie Regiment. Are you attached to that regiment?"

He said he was; then contradicted himself, saying he had been obliged to borrow the clothing from an officer because, while bathing in the Mohawk at Caughnawaga, his own clothing had been swept into the water and engulfed.

Over this lie he was slow in speech, and stammered much, licking his dry lips, and his reddish, furtive eyes travelling about him as though his stealthy mind were elsewhere.

"Do you recollect that we supped in company at Johnson Hall--you and I--and not so long ago?" I demanded.

He had no remembrance.

"And Lieutenant Hare and Captain Watts were of the company?"

He denied acquaintance with these gentlemen.

"Or Hiakatoo?"

Had never heard of him.

I bade Joe lay more dry wood on the fire and kick it well, for the sphagnum moss still dulled it. And, when it flared redly, I rose and walked close to the prisoner.

"What are you doing here?"

He had merely come out of curiosity to see the camp at Summer House.

"In disguise?"

He had no other clothing, and meant no harm. If we would let him go he would engage to return to Albany and never again to wear any clothing to which he was not ent.i.tled.

"Oh. Who was your mate there in the orchard, who also wore the Canajoharie regimentals?" I demanded.

An acquaintance made en pa.s.sant, nothing more. He did not even know his name.

"I'll tell you his name," said I. "That man was Lieutenant Hare. And you are Captain Moucher. You are spies in our camp. We've taken you; we ought to take him before midnight.

"The paper I have of you is writ in British military cipher.

"Now, before I send you to Colonel Dayton, with my report of this examination, what have you to confess that I might add to my report, in extenuation?"

He made no answer. Presently a fit of ague seized him, so that he could scarce stand. Then he reeled sideways and, by accident, set foot in the live coals. And instantly went clean crazed with fright.

As the Oneida caught him by the shoulder, to steady him, he shrieked and cowered, grasping Joe's arm in his terror.

"They mean to murder me!" he yelled. "Keep your savages away, I tell you!"--struggling between Tahioni and Joe--"I'll say what you wish, if they won't burn me!----"

"Be silent," I said. "We mean no bodily harm to you. Compose yourself, Captain Moucher. Do you take me for a monster to threaten you with torture?"

But the awful fear of fire was in this whimpering wretch, and I was ashamed to have my Oneidas see a white man so stricken with cowardly terrors.

His honour--what there was of it--he sold in stammering phrases to buy mercy of us; and I listened in disgust and astonishment to his confession, which came in a pell-mell of tumbling words, so that I was put to it to write down what he babbled.

He had gone on his knees, held back from my feet by the Oneida; and his poltroonery so sickened me that I could scarce see what I wrote down in my _carnet_.

Every word was a betrayal of comrades; every whine a plea for his own blotched skin.

To save his neck--if treachery might save it--he sold his King, his cause, his comrades, and his own manhood.