Part 11 (1/2)
”Send 'em to the Continental lines when we can,” he explained, ”and if we can't then turn 'em loose. No use paroling 'em, as they consider us guerillas. If I was you I'd run 'em back to the farmhouse across the creek, an' hold 'em there till we get rid of this stuff. Maybe it'll take twenty-four hours to hide it all, and burn the wagons. Then the boys can turn 'em loose, an' there's no harm done. I'd like to take that fellow Grant into our lines--he's a mean pillaging devil--but it's too big a risk; Bristol is about the nearest picket post, and the Red-coats have got cavalry patrols all along in back of the river.”
”But I cannot wait here,” I answered, impatiently. ”Farrell understood that. I have important information for Was.h.i.+ngton, and only came with you to-night because you were following along my route. I've got to go on.”
”That's all right; just give your orders, and we'll attend to the rest.
What we want is for these lads to go back to Philadelphia saying they were attacked by a force of militia under command of an officer of the Continental line. That will give Clinton a scare, and turn suspicion away from us. Grant knows you, I understand, so he'll report the affair that way. You can be off within thirty minutes.”
It was easy to grasp the point of view, and I saw no reason for refusing a.s.sistance. I gave the necessary orders, standing under the torchlight in full view, and waited while a squad of partisans rounded up the disarmed prisoners, and guarded them down the slope to the edge of the stream.
This was accomplished quietly and expeditiously, Duval whispering to me as to whom to put in command of the guard. The others gathered about the wagons, deciding on what was worth saving, and what had better be destroyed. Teams were doubled up, and several of the heavy Conestogas rumbled away into the darkness. Two, too badly injured to be repaired, were fired where they lay, the bright flames lighting up the high banks on either side the road. I watched this work impatiently, although it required but a few moments, and finally turned aside in search of a good mount. I found a big black, with British arms on the bridle, and a pair of loaded pistols in the holsters, a fine-looking animal, and came back into the fire glow, determined to lose no more time. Duval had disappeared, but, as I stood there looking about for him to say good-bye, a young country fellow came up hurriedly from out the darkness.
”You're wanted down thar,” he said, with the jerk of a thumb over his shoulder. ”The Tory officer wants to see ye.”
”What officer? Captain Grant?”
”I reckon that's the one,” indifferently; ”anyhow I was told to fetch ye down thar. Bannister sent me.”
I went as he directed down the rutty road, my newly appropriated horse trailing along behind. The prisoners were in an open s.p.a.ce near the bank of the stream, where a fire had been built. They were mostly lying down, the guard forming an outside circle. Grant was pacing back and forth restlessly, but, as soon as I appeared within the fire radius, he came toward me.
”Can I see you alone?” he asked brusquely.
”If there is any reason for privacy, certainly,” I answered in surprise.
”What do you wish to say?”
”This is a matter strictly between us,” evasively. ”I prefer not to discuss it publicly here.”
I had a suspicion of treachery, yet was not willing to exhibit any reluctance. The fellow was no better man than I when it came to a struggle, and was unarmed. Besides he had succeeded in arousing my curiosity.
”Very good. Bannister,” to the partisan in charge, ”I want a word with Captain Grant, and will be responsible for his safe return.”
The man looked after us doubtfully, yet permitted us to pa.s.s beyond the guard-lines. There was a stump beside the ford, barely within the flicker of the distant fire, and there I stopped, leaning against my horse, and turned so as to look into the man's face.
”Well, Grant,” I said, rather sternly. ”We are alone now; what is it?”
He cleared his throat, evidently uncertain how best to express himself.
”Why did you ask so many questions about Delavan's lieutenant?” he began sullenly. ”What were you trying to find out?”
CHAPTER XII
A CAPTURE
What was the matter with the fellow? Could he have sent for me merely to ask that question, insisting on privacy? There must surely be some hidden purpose behind this. Yet if so, there was no betrayal in the man's face.
His eyes had an angry gleam in them, and his words were shot at me in deadly earnest.
”The lieutenant?” I repeated, not prepared for a direct reply. ”Why, I hardly know--curiosity largely.”
He stared at me in manifest unbelief.
”What do you expect to gain by lying?” he exclaimed sullenly. ”You saw him, no doubt, or you would not have asked what you did.”