The Little Red Foot Part 92

"This is the urgent news I ask of you. I am horribly afraid. In mercy send me some account; for there are terrible rumours afloat in this fortress--rumours of other spies taken by your soldiery, and of brutal executions--I can not bring myself to write of what I fear. Pity me, Jack, and write me what you hear.

"Could you not beg this one mercy of Billy Alexander, that he send a flag or contrive to have one sent from your Northern Department, explaining to us poor women what truly has been,--and is like to be--the fate of such unfortunate prisoners in your hands?

"And remember who it is appeals to you, dear Jack; for even if I have not merited your consideration,--if I, perhaps, have even forfeited the regard of Billy Alexander,--I pray you both to remember that you once were a little in love with me.

"And so, deal with me gently, Jack. For I am frightened and sick at heart; and know very little about love, which, for the first time ever in my life, has now undone me.

"Will you not aid and forgive your unhappy,

"CLAUDIA."

Good Lord! Claudia enamoured! And enamoured of that great villain, Henry Hare! Why, d.a.m.n him, he hath a wife and children, too, or I am most grossly in error.

I had not heard that Walter Butler was taken. I knew not whether Lieutenant Hare had been caught in Butler's evil company or if, indeed, he had fought at all with old John Butler at Oriska.

Frowning, disgusted, yet sad also to learn that Claudia could so rashly and so ign.o.bly lavish her affections, nevertheless I resolved to ask Lord Stirling if a flag could not be sent with news to Claudia and such other anxious ladies as might be eating their hearts out at Oneida, or Oswego, or Buck Island.

And so I laid aside her painful letter, and unfolded the last missive.

And discovered it was writ me by Penelope:

"You should not think harshly of me, Jack Drogue, if you return and discover that I am gone away from Johnstown.

"Douw Fonda is returned to Cayadutta Lodge. He has now sent a carriage for to fetch me. It is waiting while I write. I can not refuse him.

"If, when we meet again, you desire to know my mind concerning you, then, if you choose to look into it, you shall discover that my mind contains only a single thought. And the thought is for you.

"But if you desire no longer to know my mind when again--if ever--we two meet together, then you shall not feel it your duty to concern yourself about my mind, or what thought may be within it.

"I would not write coldly to you, John Drogue. Nor would I importune with pa.s.sion.

"I have no claim upon your further kindness. You have every claim upon my life-long grat.i.tude.

"But I offer more than grat.i.tude if you should still desire it; and I would offer less--if it should better please you.

"Feel not offended; feel free. Come to me if it pleaseth you; and, if you come not, there is in me that which shall pardon all you do, or leave undone, as long as ever I shall live on earth.

"PENELOPE GRANT."

When Snips had powdered me and had tied my club with a queue-ribbon of his proper selection, he patched my cheek-bone where a thorn had torn me, and stood a-twirling his iron as though lost in admiration of his handiwork.

When I paid him I bade him tell Burke to bring around my horse and fetch my saddle bags; and then I dressed me in my regimentals.

When Burke came with the saddle-bags, we packed them together. He promised to care for my rifle and pack, took my new light blanket over his arm, and led the way down stairs, where I presently perceived Kaya saddled, and p.r.i.c.king ears to hear my voice.

Whilst I caressed her and whispered in her pretty ear the idle tenderness that a man confides to a beloved horse, Burke placed my pistols, strapped saddle-bags and blanket, and held my stirrup as I gathered bridle and set my spurred boot firmly on the steel.

And so swung to my saddle, and sat there, dividing bridles, deep fixed in troubled thought and anxiously concerned for the safety of the unselfish but very stubborn girl I loved.

I had said my adieux to Jimmy Burke; I had taken leave of the Commandant at the palisades jail. I now galloped Kaya through the town, riding by way of Butlersbury;[42] and saw the steep roof of the Butler house through the grove, and shuddered as I thought of the unhappy young man who had lived there and who, at that very moment, might be hanging by his neck while the drums rolled from the hollow square.

[Footnote 42: A letter written by Colonel Butler so designates the place where the ancient Butler house is still standing. The letter mentioned is in the possession of the author.]

Down the steep hill I rode, careful of loose stone, and so came to the river and to Caughnawaga.[43]

[Footnote 43: Now the town of Fonda.]

All was peaceful and still in the noonday suns.h.i.+ne; the river wore a gla.s.sy surface; farm waggons creaked slowly through golden dust along the Fort Johnson highway; fat cattle lay in the shade; and from the brick chimneys of Caughnawaga blue smoke drifted where, in her cellar kitchen, the good wife was a-cooking of the noontide dinner.

When presently I espied Douw Fonda's great mansion of stone, I saw n.o.body on the porch, and no smoke rising from the chimneys, yet the front door stood open.

But when I rode up to the porch, a black wench came from the house, who said that Mr. Fonda dined at his son's that day, and would remain until evening.

However, when I made inquiry for Penelope, I found that she was within,--had already been served with dinner,--and was now gone to the library to read and knit as usual when alone.

The black wench took my mare and whistled shrilly for a slave to come and hold the horse.

But I had already mounted the stoop and entered the silent house; and now I perceived Penelope, who had risen from a chair and was laying aside her book and knitting.

She seemed very white when I went to her and drew her into my embrace; and she rested her cheek against my shoulder and took close hold of my two arms, but uttered not a word.

Under her lace cap her hair glimmered like sun-warmed gold; and her hands, which had become very fine and white again, began to move upward to my shoulders, till they encircled my neck and rested there, tight linked.

For a s.p.a.ce she wept, but presently staunched her tears with her laced ap.r.o.n's edge, like a child at school. And when I made her look upon me she smiled though she still breathed sobbingly, and her lips still quivered as I kissed her.

We sat close together there in the golden gloom of the curtained room, where only a bar of dusty sunlight fell across a row of gilded books.

I had told her everything--had given an account of all that had befallen my little scout, and how I had returned to Johnstown, and how so suddenly my fortunes had been completely changed.

I told her of what I knew of the battle at Oriskany, of the present situation at Stanwix and at Saratoga, and of what I saw of the fight at the Flockey, where McDonald ran.

I begged her to persuade Mr. Fonda to go to Albany, and she promised to do so. And when I pointed out in detail how perilous was his situation here, and how desperate her own, she said she knew it, and had been horribly afraid, but that Caughnawaga folk seemed strangely indifferent to the danger,--could not bring themselves to believe in it, perhaps,--and were loath to leave their homes unprotected and their fields untilled.

But when I touched on her leaving these foolish people and, as my wife, travelling southward with me to the great fortress on the Hudson, she only wept, saying, in tears, that she was needed by an old and feeble man who had protected her when she was poor and friendless, and that, though she loved me, her duty still lay first at Douw Fonda's side.

Quit him she utterly refused to do; and it was in vain I pointed out his three stalwart sons and their numerous families, retainers, tenants, servants, and slaves, who ought to care for the obstinate old gentleman and provide a security for him whether he would or no.

But argument was useless; I knew it. And all I obtained of her was that, whether matters north of us mended or grew worse, she would persuade Mr.

Fonda to return to Albany until such time as Tryon County became once more safe to live in.

This she promised, and even a.s.sured me that she had already spoken of the matter to Mr. Fonda, and that the old gentleman appeared to be quite willing to return to Albany as soon as his grain could be reaped and threshed.

So with this I had to content my heavy heart. And now, by the tall clock, I perceived that my time was up; for Schenectady lay far away, and Albany father still; and it was like to be a long and dreary journey to West Point, if, indeed, I should find Lord Stirling still there.

For at Johnstown fort that morning I was warned that my General Lord Stirling had already rejoined his division in the Jerseys; and that the news was brought by riflemen of Morgan's corps, which was now swiftly marching to join our Northern forces near Saratoga.