Part 2 (1/2)

But in the way of raising his gun to his shoulder, taking aim and firing, Gravity Gimp was five seconds in advance of the n.o.ble red man: enough said.

”De fust duty arter shootin' off a gun am to load her up agin,” remarked Gravity, as he began pouring a charge from his powder horn into the palm of his hand, preparatory to letting it run down the barrel of his weapon.

”Don't wait,” pleaded Maggie, greatly agitated by what had just taken place, and by the shouts, cries, and reports of guns about them; ”if we tarry we are lost.”

”I reckon I'm too well 'quainted wid dese parts to got lost,” said the servant, who was really making all the haste he could in the way of reloading his gun. In a moment he had poured the powder into the pan of his weapon.

”Now we'll trabbel,” he said, hurrying again along the river sh.o.r.e. He took enormous strides, his gait being that peculiar hurried walk which is really faster than an ordinary trot.

It compelled the others to run, Maggie still clasping the hand of Eva, while Aunt Peggy forgot her dignity in the terrors of the time and held her pace with them.

The truth was that though Gravity was the owner of a scow which he had partly hidden at the time he saw the possibility of its need, he was afraid it had been taken by others of the fugitives that had stumbled upon it.

Less than a hundred yards remained to be pa.s.sed, and, as that was fast put behind them, even the phlegmatic Gravity began to show some nervousness.

”I thinks we're gwine to make it,” he said, recognizing several well-known landmarks; ”and, if we does, and gits to de oder sh.o.r.e and has 'bout two hundred and fifty miles start ob de Tories and Injins, why dat will be sort ob cheerin' like.”

All this time the sable guide, although walking fast, limped as if he were hurt.

”What makes you lame?” asked Eva.

”I was. .h.i.t by a cannon-ball on de knee,” was the astonis.h.i.+ng answer: ”it slewed my leg round a little, but I'll soon be all right again.”

At this moment, when the hearts of all were beating high with hope, a rustling was heard among the undergrowth on their right, and the little company paused and looked up, expecting to see a dozen or more painted Iroquois in their war paint.

The _click_, _click_ of the African's rifle, as he drew back the flint, showed that he was ready to do everything to defend those who cowered behind him like scared sheep.

To the surprise of each, however, a single man came hurriedly forth. All identified him as Jake Golcher, an old resident of Wyoming, but one of the bitterest of Tories, whose hatred of his former neighbors and friends seemed as intense as that of Queen Esther, or Katharine Montour, one of the leaders of the invaders.

He was as much surprised as the fugitives themselves, and he stared at them with open mouth, slouch hat thrown on the back of his head, and the stock of his gun resting at his feet. He was the first to recover his speech, and, with an expletive, he demanded:

”Where did _you_ come from?”

”Am you abdressing your remarks to me or to de ladies?” asked Gravity of the man whom he detested, and of whom, even then, he had not the slightest fear.

”I'm speaking to all of you,” said Golcher, glancing furtively at the vinegar face of Aunt Peggy, and bestowing a beaming smile on Maggie Brainerd.

Much as the latter despised the Tory, she had too much sense to show it at this time. Walking toward him, she clasped her hands, and with an emotion that was certainly genuine, she said:

”Oh, Mr. Golcher, won't you help us?”

”What are you axin' him dat for?” broke in Gravity; ”we don't want no help from _him_.”

Aunt Peggy was evidently of the same mind, for though she said nothing, she gave a sniff and toss of her head that were more expressive than words.

The sallow face of the Tory flushed, as he looked down in the sweet countenance of Maggie Brainerd, made tenfold more winsome by the glow of the cheeks and the sparkle of the eyes, arising from the excitement of her situation.

Bear in mind that the party had gone so far along the bank of the river that they were somewhat removed from the swarm of fleeing fugitives, and therefore no immediate danger threatened; but the call for flight was as loud as ever, and a few minutes' delay was liable to bring down a score of Indians and Tories.