Away went Gilpin, neck or nought,
Away went hat and wig;
He little dreamt, when he set out,
Of running such a rig.
--COWPER.
The road which it was necessary for the peddler and the English captain
to travel, in order to reach the shelter of the hills, lay, for a half
mile, in full view from the door of the building that had so recently
been the prison of the latter; running for the whole distance over the
rich plain, that spreads to the very foot of the mountains, which here
rise in a nearly perpendicular ascent from their bases; it then turned
short to the right, and was obliged to follow the windings of nature, as
it won its way into the bosom of the Highlands.
To preserve the supposed difference in their stations, Harvey rode a
short distance ahead of his companion, and maintained the sober,
dignified pace, that was suited to his assumed character. On their
right, the regiment of foot, that we have already mentioned, lay, in
tents; and the sentinels who guarded their encampment were to be seen
moving with measured tread under the hills themselves.
The first impulse of Henry was, certainly, to urge the beast he rode to
his greatest speed at once, and by a coup de main not only accomplish
his escape, but relieve himself from the torturing suspense of his
situation. But the forward movement that the youth made for this purpose
was instantly checked by the peddler.
"Hold up!" he cried, dexterously reining his own horse across the path
of the other. "Would you ruin us both? Fall into the place of a black,
following his master. Did you not see their blooded chargers, all
saddled and bridled, standing in the sun before the house? How long do
you think that miserable Dutch horse you are on would hold his speed, if
pursued by the Virginians? Every foot that we can gain, without giving
the alarm, counts a day in our lives. Ride steadily after me, and on no
account look back. They are as subtle as foxes, aye, and as ravenous for
blood as wolves!"
Henry reluctantly restrained his impatience, and followed the direction
of the peddler. His imagination, however, continually alarmed him with
the fancied sounds of pursuit, though Birch, who occasionally looked
back under the pretense of addressing his companion, assured him that
all continued quiet and peaceful.
"But," said Henry, "it will not be possible for Caesar to remain long
undiscovered. Had we not better put our horses to the gallop, and by the
time they can reflect on the cause of our flight, we can reach the
corner of the woods?"
"Ah! you little know them, Captain Wharton," returned the peddler.
"There is a sergeant at this moment looking after us, as if he thought
all was not right; the keen-eyed fellow watches me like a tiger lying in
wait for his leap. When I stood on the horseblock, he half suspected
that something was wrong. Nay, check your beast--we must let the animals
walk a little, for he is laying his hand on the pommel of his saddle. If
he mounts, we are gone. The foot-soldiers could reach us with
their muskets."
"What does he now?" asked Henry, reining his horse to a walk, but at the
same time pressing his heels into the animal's sides, to be in readiness
for a spring.
"He turns from his charger, and looks the other way, now trot on
gently--not so fast--not so fast. Observe the sentinel in the field, a
little ahead of us--he eyes us keenly."
"Never mind the footman," said Henry, impatiently, "he can do nothing
but shoot us--whereas these dragoons may make me a captive again.
Surely, Harvey, there are horse moving down the road behind us. Do you
see nothing particular?"
"Humph!" ejaculated the peddler. "There is something particular, indeed,
to be seen behind the thicket on our left. Turn your head a little, and
you may see and profit by it too."
Henry eagerly seized this permission to look aside, and the blood
curdled to his heart as he observed that they were passing a gallows,
which unquestionably had been erected for his own execution. He turned
his face from the sight, in undisguised horror.
"There is a warning to be prudent," said the peddler, in the sententious
manner that he often adopted.
"It is a terrific sight, indeed!" cried Henry, for a moment veiling his
eyes with his hand, as if to drive a vision from before him.
The peddler moved his body partly around, and spoke with energetic but
gloomy bitterness, "And yet, Captain Wharton, you see it where the
setting sun shines full upon you; the air you breathe is clear, and
fresh from the hills before you. Every step that you take leaves that
hated gallows behind; and every dark hollow, and every shapeless rock in
the mountains, offers you a hiding place from the vengeance of your
enemies. But I have seen the gibbet raised, when no place of refuge
offered. Twice have I been buried in dungeons, where, fettered and in
chains, I have passed nights in torture, looking forward to the
morning's dawn that was to light me to a death of infamy. The sweat has
started from limbs that seemed already drained of their moisture; and if
I ventured to the hole that admitted air through grates of iron to look
out upon the smiles of nature, which God has bestowed for the meanest of
His creatures, the gibbet has glared before my eyes, like an evil
conscience harrowing the soul of a dying man. Four times have I been in
their power, besides this last; but--twice--did I think my hour had
come. It is hard to die at the best, Captain Wharton; but to spend your
last moments alone and unpitied, to know that none near you so much as
think of the fate that is to you the closing of all that is earthly; to
think that, in a few hours, you are to be led from the gloom, which, as
you dwell on what follows, becomes dear to you, to the face of day, and
there to meet all eyes fixed upon you, as if you were a wild beast; and
to lose sight of everything amidst the jeers and scoffs of your fellow
creatures--that, Captain Wharton, that indeed is to die!"
Henry listened in amazement, as his companion uttered this speech with a
vehemence altogether new to him; both seemed to have forgotten their
danger and their disguises.
"What! were you ever so near death as that?"
"Have I not been the hunted beast of these hills for three years past?"
resumed Harvey; "and once they even led me to the foot of the gallows
itself, and I escaped only by an alarm from the royal troops. Had they
been a quarter of an hour later, I must have died. There was I placed in
the midst of unfeeling men, and gaping women and children, as a monster
to be cursed. When I would pray to God, my ears were insulted with the
history of my crimes; and when, in all that multitude, I looked around
for a single face that showed me any pity, I could find none--no, not
even one; all cursed me as a wretch who would sell his country for gold.
The sun was brighter to my eyes than common--but it was the last time I
should see it. The fields were gay and pleasant, and everything seemed
as if this world was a kind of heaven. Oh, how sweet life was to me at
that moment! 'Twas a dreadful hour, Captain Wharton, and such as you
have never known. You have friends to feel for you, but I had none but a
father to mourn my loss, when he might hear of it; but there was no
pity, no consolation near, to soothe my anguish. Everything seemed to
have deserted me. I even thought that HE had forgotten that I lived."
"What! did you feel that God Himself had forgotten you, Harvey?"
"God never forsakes His servants," returned Birch, with reverence, and
exhibiting naturally a devotion that hitherto he had only assumed.
"And whom did you mean by HE?"
The peddler raised himself in his saddle to the stiff and upright
posture that was suited to his outward appearance. The look of fire,
that for a short time glowed on his countenance, disappeared in the
solemn lines of unbending self-abasement, and, speaking as if addressing
a negro, he replied,--
"In heaven there is no distinction of color, my brother, therefore you
have a precious charge within you, that you must hereafter render an
account of;" dropping his voice--"this is the last sentinel near the
road; look not back, as you value your life."
Henry remembered his situation, and instantly assumed the humble
demeanor of his adopted character. The unaccountable energy of the
peddler's manner was soon forgotten in the sense of his own immediate
danger; and with the recollection of his critical situation, returned
all the uneasiness that he had momentarily forgotten.
"What see you, Harvey?" he cried, observing the peddler to gaze towards
the building they had left, with ominous interest. "What see you at
the house?"
"That which bodes no good to us," returned the pretended priest. "Throw
aside the mask and wig; you will need all your senses without much
delay; throw them in the road. There are none before us that I dread,
but there are those behind who will give us a fearful race!"
"Nay, then," cried the captain, casting the implements of his disguise
into the highway, "let us improve our time to the utmost. We want a full
quarter to the turn; why not push for it, at once?"
"Be cool; they are in alarm, but they will not mount without an officer,
unless they see us fly--now he comes, he moves to the stables; trots
briskly; a dozen are in their saddles, but the officer stops to tighten
his girths; they hope to steal a march upon us; he is mounted; now ride,
Captain Wharton, for your life, and keep at my heels. If you quit me,
you will be lost!"
A second request was unnecessary. The instant that Harvey put his horse
to his speed Captain Wharton was at his heels, urging the miserable
animal he rode to the utmost. Birch had selected his own beast; and
although vastly inferior to the high-fed and blooded chargers of the
dragoons, still it was much superior to the little pony that had been
thought good enough to carry Caesar Thompson on an errand. A very few
jumps convinced the captain that his companion was fast leaving him, and
a fearful glance thrown behind informed the fugitive that his enemies
were as speedily approaching. With that abandonment that makes misery
doubly grievous, when it is to be supported alone, Henry cried aloud to
the peddler not to desert him. Harvey instantly drew up, and suffered
his companion to run alongside of his own horse. The cocked hat and wig
of the peddler fell from his head the moment that his steed began to
move briskly, and this development of their disguise, as it might be
termed, was witnessed by the dragoons, who announced their observation
by a boisterous shout, that seemed to be uttered in the very ears of the
fugitives; so loud was the cry, and so short the distance between them.
"Had we not better leave our horses," said Henry, "and make for the
hills across the fields, on our left? The fence will stop our pursuers."
"That way lies the gallows," returned the peddler. "These fellows go
three feet to our two, and would mind the fences no more than we do
these ruts; but it is a short quarter to the turn, and there are two
roads behind the wood. They may stand to choose until they can take the
track, and we shall gain a little upon them there."
"But this miserable horse is blown already," cried Henry, urging his
beast with the end of his bridle, at the same time that Harvey aided his
efforts by applying the lash of a heavy riding whip he carried. "He will
never stand it for half a mile farther."
"A quarter will do; a quarter will do," said the peddler, "a single
quarter will save us, if you follow my directions."
Somewhat cheered by the cool and confident manner of his companion,
Henry continued silently urging his horse forward. A few moments brought
them to the desired turn, and as they doubled round a point of low
underbrush, the fugitives caught a glimpse of their pursuers scattered
along the highway. Mason and the sergeant, being better mounted than the
rest of the party, were much nearer to their heels than even the peddler
thought could be possible.
At the foot of the hills, and for some distance up the dark valley that
wound among the mountains, a thick underwood of saplings had been
suffered to shoot up, where the heavier growth was felled for the sake
of the fuel. At the sight of this cover, Henry again urged the peddler
to dismount, and to plunge into the woods; but his request was promptly
refused. The two roads, before mentioned, met at very sharp angles at a
short distance from the turn, and both were circuitous, so that but
little of either could be seen at a time. The peddler took the one which
led to the left, but held it only a moment, for, on reaching a partial
opening in the thicket, he darted across into the right-hand path and
led the way up a steep ascent, which lay directly before them. This
maneuver saved them. On reaching the fork, the dragoons followed the
track and passed the spot where the fugitives had crossed to the other
road, before they missed the marks of the footsteps. Their loud cries
were heard by Henry and the peddler, as their wearied and breathless
animals toiled up the hill, ordering their comrades in the rear to ride
in the right direction. The captain again proposed to leave their horses
and dash into the thicket.
"Not yet, not yet," said Birch, in a low voice. "The road falls from the
top of this hill as steep as it rises; first let us gain the top." While
speaking, they reached the desired summit, and both threw themselves
from their horses, Henry plunging into the thick underwood, which
covered the side of the mountain for some distance above them. Harvey
stopped to give each of their beasts a few severe blows of his whip,
that drove them headlong down the path on the other side of the
eminence, and then followed his example.
The peddler entered the thicket with a little caution, and avoided, as
much as possible, rustling or breaking the branches in his way. There
was but time only to shelter his person from view when a dragoon led up
the ascent, and on reaching the height, he cried aloud,--
"I saw one of their horses turning the hill this minute."
"Drive on, spur forward, my lads," shouted Mason; "give the Englishman
quarter, but cut down the peddler, and make an end of him."
Henry felt his companion grip his arm hard, as he listened in a great
tremor to this cry, which was followed by the passage of a dozen
horsemen, with a vigor and speed that showed too plainly how little
security their overtired steeds could have afforded them.
"Now," said the peddler, rising from the cover to reconnoiter, and
standing for a moment in suspense, "all that we gain is clear gain; for,
as we go up, they go down. Let us be stirring."
"But will they not follow us, and surround this mountain?" said Henry,
rising, and imitating the labored but rapid progress of his companion.
"Remember, they have foot as well as horse, and, at any rate, we shall
starve in the hills."
"Fear nothing, Captain Wharton," returned the peddler, with confidence;
"this is not the mountain that I would be on, but necessity has made me
a dexterous pilot among these hills. I will lead you where no man will
dare to follow. See, the sun is already setting behind the tops of the
western mountains, and it will be two hours to the rising of the moon.
Who, think you, will follow us far, on a November night, among these
rocks and precipices?"
"Listen!" exclaimed Henry; "the dragoons are shouting to each other;
they miss us already."
"Come to the point of this rock, and you may see them," said Harvey,
composedly setting himself down to rest. "Nay, they can see us--observe,
they are pointing up with their fingers. There! one has fired his
pistol, but the distance is too great even for a musket."
"They will pursue us," cried the impatient Henry, "let us be moving."
"They will not think of such a thing," returned the peddler, picking the
checkerberries that grew on the thin soil where he sat, and very
deliberately chewing them, leaves and all, to refresh his mouth. "What
progress could they make here, in their heavy boots and spurs, and long
swords? No, no--they may go back and turn out the foot, but the horse
pass through these defiles, when they can keep the saddle, with fear and
trembling. Come, follow me, Captain Wharton; we have a troublesome
march before us, but I will bring you where none will think of venturing
this night."
So saying, they both arose, and were soon hid from view amongst the
rocks and caverns of the mountain.
The conjecture of the peddler was true. Mason and his men dashed down
the hill, in pursuit, as they supposed, of their victims, but, on
reaching the bottom lands, they found only the deserted horses of the
fugitives. Some little time was spent in examining the woods near them,
and in endeavoring to take the trail on such ground as might enable the
horse to pursue, when one of the party descried the peddler and Henry
seated on the rock already mentioned.
"He's off," muttered Mason, eying Harvey, with fury; "he's off, and we
are disgraced. By heavens, Washington will not trust us with the keeping
of a suspected Tory, if we let the rascal trifle in this manner with the
corps; and there sits the Englishman, too, looking down upon us with a
smile of benevolence! I fancy that I can see it. Well, well, my lad, you
are comfortably seated, I will confess, and that is something better
than dancing upon nothing; but you are not to the west of the Harlem
River yet, and I'll try your wind before you tell Sir Henry what you
have seen."
"Shall I fire and frighten the peddler?" asked one of the men, drawing
his pistol from the holster.
"Aye, startle the birds from their perch--let us see how they can use
the wing." The man fired the pistol, and Mason continued--"'Fore George,
I believe the scoundrels laugh at us. But homeward, or we shall have
them rolling stones upon our heads, and the royal gazettes teeming with
an account of a rebel regiment routed by two loyalists. They have told
bigger lies than that, before now."
The dragoons moved sullenly after their officer, who rode towards their
quarters, musing on the course it behooved him to pursue in the present
dilemma. It was twilight when Mason's party reached the dwelling, before
the door of which were collected a great number of the officers and men,
busily employed in giving and listening to the most exaggerated
accounts of the escape of the spy. The mortified dragoons gave their
ungrateful tidings with the sullen air of disappointed men; and most of
the officers gathered round Mason, to consult of the steps that ought to
be taken. Miss Peyton and Frances were breathless and unobserved
listeners to all that passed between them, from the window of the
chamber immediately above their heads.
"Something must be done, and that speedily," observed the commanding
officer of the regiment, which lay encamped before the house. "This
English officer is doubtless an instrument in the great blow aimed at us
by the enemy lately; besides, our honor is involved in his escape."
"Let us beat the woods!" cried several at once. "By morning we shall
have them both again."
"Softly, softly, gentlemen," returned the colonel. "No man can travel
these hills after dark, unless used to the passes. Nothing but horse can
do service in this business, and I presume Lieutenant Mason hesitates to
move without the orders of his major."
"I certainly dare not," replied the subaltern, gravely shaking his head,
"unless you will take the responsibility of an order; but Major
Dunwoodie will be back again in two hours, and we can carry the tidings
through the hills before daylight; so that by spreading patrols across,
from one river to the other, and offering a reward to the country
people, their escape will yet be impossible, unless they can join the
party that is said to be out on the Hudson."
"A very plausible plan," cried the colonel, "and one that must succeed;
but let a messenger be dispatched to Dunwoodie, or he may continue at
the ferry until it proves too late; though doubtless the runaways will
lie in the mountains to-night."
To this suggestion Mason acquiesced, and a courier was sent to the major
with the important intelligence of the escape of Henry, and an
intimation of the necessity of his presence to conduct the pursuit.
After this arrangement, the officers separated.
When Miss Peyton and her niece first learned the escape of Captain
Wharton, it was with difficulty they could credit their senses. They
both relied so implicitly on the success of Dunwoodie's exertions, that
they thought the act, on the part of their relative, extremely
imprudent; but it was now too late to mend it. While listening to the
conversation of the officers, both were struck with the increased danger
of Henry's situation, if recaptured, and they trembled to think of the
great exertions that would be made to accomplish this object. Miss
Peyton consoled herself, and endeavored to cheer her niece, with the
probability that the fugitives would pursue their course with
unremitting diligence, so that they might reach the neutral ground
before the horse would carry down the tidings of their flight. The
absence of Dunwoodie seemed to her all-important, and the artless lady
was anxiously devising some project that might detain her kinsman, and
thus give her nephew the longest possible time. But very different were
the reflections of Frances. She could no longer doubt that the figure
she had seen on the hill was Birch, and she felt certain that, instead
of flying to the friendly forces below, her brother would be taken to
the mysterious hut to pass the night.
Frances and her aunt held a long and animated discussion by themselves,
when the good spinster reluctantly yielded to the representation of her
niece, and folding her in her arms, she kissed her cold cheek, and,
fervently blessing her, allowed her to depart on an errand of
fraternal love.