Part 31 (1/2)
What is more grateful to a weak, weary mortal on a hot morning than a snug seat under the shade of a tree, stirred by a gentle breeze from the river? Rodney Allison could think of nothing, and sank into the seat with a sigh of relief.
This was his first attempt at walking abroad since his illness, during which the British had left Philadelphia and returned to New York, pursued and hara.s.sed by the Americans. That morning Captain Enderwood had left him, and, when he had inquired for his bill, he was told that it had been paid. He had been dimly conscious during his illness of the presence of a nurse other than Enderwood, but when he had asked about it the captain had ignored the question and talked about something else. Surely he was indebted to some one for his life and life was very sweet this July morning.
”When d'ye leave yer grave?”
”h.e.l.lo, Zeb! I was thinking about you, and wondering if we'd ever meet again.”
”An' I was thinkin' the same thing when I got sight o' you an'
concluded we wouldn't.”
”Concluded we wouldn't?”
”Ye see, I 'lowed 'twas only yer ghost I was lookin' at. Ye've either had poor victuals or a poor appet.i.te.”
Rodney had the first hearty laugh he enjoyed for months and replied, ”I've been pretty sick and am lucky to have any sort of looks left.
But what are you doing in Philadelphia?”
”I'm hangin' around this town hopin' the schooner Betsy has escaped the British and will bring my wife.”
”Your wife?”
”All the result o' my furlough in Boston.”
”So Melicite, of whom Donald Lovell told me so much, consented. Zeb, you're a born conqueror. When you found you couldn't capture Canada you won a wife.”
”More to my likin' than the whole o' Canada. Now I'm wonderin' how I'm goin' to support her. A soldier's pay for a month won't buy more'n a pinch o' salt, an' salt ain't very fillin' 'thout somethin' to go along with it.”
”Well, I know where we can get a square meal, though it won't taste as good as that roast pig down in Jersey. Will you go with me?”
”Certain sure I'll go. I reckon thar be no good o' my hangin' round any longer to-day.”
As they walked down Chestnut Street Rodney saw a familiar figure approaching.
”Zeb, there comes one of the greatest men in the country, Thomas Jefferson. Wonder if he'll remember me.”
He was not left long in doubt. Mr. Jefferson's face was careworn and noticeably older than when Rodney had last seen him, and the lad was but a shadow of his former self, yet the man recognized him the moment they met.
”How is my young friend this morning? You've had an illness.”
”I am just up from a fever. Mr. Jefferson, I want you to know my friend, one of Morgan's Rangers, Mr. Campbell, or Zeb, as we call him.
He's been to me almost as good a friend as you.”
”I'm always glad to meet your friends, Rodney. What are you doing here?”
”I'm waiting till I get strength enough to go back to Charlottesville.
I was taken prisoner and am on parole and I think home is the best place for me.”
”Charlottesville is a good place at all times, especially now that Burgoyne's troops are imprisoned there. I should think you might also find it profitable to return, for the prisoners kept there have put money in circulation and made work. By the way, I haven't seen you since you sold your horse to my overseer. I felt badly about that because I knew you didn't let him go without a sacrifice. I will give you a letter and when you get back you take it to Monticello and get the colt. You can pay me at your convenience.”
This was unexpected good fortune, and Rodney felt very grateful. ”I wish I had Nat here. I would start to-morrow,” he remarked to Zeb as they walked on.