The Spy by James Fenimore Cooper (free biff chip and kipper ebooks .TXT) 📕

gloomily. “Ah! Hollister, I would give the animal I ride, to have had your single arm between the wretch who drew that trigger and these useless rocks, which overhang every bit of ground, as if they grudged pasture to a single hoof.”

“Under the light of day, and charging man to man, I am as good as another; but I can’t say that I’m overfond of fighting with those that neither steel nor lead can bring down.”

“What silly crotchet is uppermost, now, in that mystified brain of thine, Deacon Hollister?”

“I like not the dark object that has been maneuvering in the skirt of the wood since the first dawn of day; and twice, during the night, it was seen marching across the firelight, no doubt with evil intent.”

“Is it yon ball of black, at the foot of the rock maple, that you mean?
In truth it moves.”

“But without mortal motion,” said the sergeant, regarding it with awful reverence. “It glides along, but no feet have been seen by any who watch here.”

“Had it wings,” cried Lawton, “it is mine; stand fast, until I join.” The words were hardly uttered before Roanoke was flying across the plain, and apparently verifying the boast of his master.

“Those cursed rocks!” ejaculated the trooper, as he saw the object of his pursuit approaching the hillside; but, either from want of practice or from terror, it passed the obvious shelter they offered, and fled into the open plain.

“I have you, man or devil!” shouted Lawton, whirling his saber from its scabbard. “Halt, and take quarter!”

His proposition was apparently acceded to; for, at the sound of his powerful voice, the figure sank upon the ground, exhibiting a shapeless ball of black, without life or motion.

“What have we here?” cried Lawton, drawing up by its side. “A gala suit of the good maiden, Jeanette Peyton, wandering around its birthplace, or searching in vain for its discomfited mistress?” He leaned forward in his stirrups, and placing the point of his sword under the silken garment, by throwing aside the covering, discovered part of the form of the reverend gentleman who had fled from the Locusts, the evening before, in his robes of office.

“In truth, Hollister had some ground for his alarm; an army chaplain is, at any time, a terror to a troop of horse.”

The clergyman had collected enough of his disturbed faculties, to discover that it was a face he knew, and somewhat disconcerted at the terror he had manifested, and the indecent attitude in which he had been found, he endeavored to rise and offer some explanation. Lawton received his apologies good-humoredly, if not with much faith in their truth; and, after a short communication upon the state of the valley, the trooper courteously alighted, and they proceeded towards the guard.

“I am so little acquainted, sir, with the rebel uniform, that I really was unable to distinguish, whether those men, whom you say are your own, did or did not belong to the gang of marauders.”

“Apology, sir, is unnecessary,” replied the trooper, curling his lip. “It is not your task, as a minister of God, to take note of the facings of a coat. The standard under which you serve is acknowledged by us all.”

“I serve under the standard of his gracious Majesty, George III,” returned the priest, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. “But really the idea of being scalped has a strong tendency to unman a new-beginner, like myself.”

“Scalped!” echoed Lawton, stopping short in his walk. Then recollecting himself, he added, with composure, “If it is to Dunwoodie’s squadron of Virginia light dragoons that you allude, it may be well to inform you that they generally take a bit of the skull with the skin.”

“Oh! I can have no apprehensions of gentlemen of your appearance,” said the divine, with a smirk. “It is the natives that I apprehend.”

“Natives! I have the honor to be one, I assure you, sir.”

“Nay, I beg that I may be understood—I mean the Indians; they who do nothing but rob, and murder, and destroy.”

“And scalp!”

“Yes, sir, and scalp too,” continued the clergyman, eying his companion a little suspiciously; “the copper-colored, savage Indians.”

“And did you expect to meet those nose-jeweled gentry in the neutral ground?”

“Certainly; we understand in England that the interior swarms with them.”

“And call you this the interior of America?” cried Lawton, again halting, and staring the other in the face, with a surprise too naturally expressed to be counterfeited.

“Surely, sir, I conceive myself to be in the interior.”

“Attend,” said Lawton, pointing towards the east. “See you not that broad sheet of water which the eye cannot compass? Thither lies the England you deem worthy to hold dominion over half the world. See you the land of your nativity?”

“’Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousand miles!” exclaimed the wondering priest, a little suspicious of his companion’s sanity.

“No! what a pity it is that the powers of man are not equal to his ambition. Now turn your eyes westward; observe that vast expanse of water which rolls between the shores of America and China.”

“I see nothing but land,” said the trembling priest; “there is no water to be seen.”

“’Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousand miles!” repeated Lawton, pursuing his walk. “If you apprehend the savages, seek them in the ranks of your prince. Rum and gold have preserved their loyalty.”

“Nothing is more probable than my being deceived,” said the man of peace, casting furtive glances at the colossal stature and whiskered front of his companion; “but the rumors we have at home, and the uncertainty of meeting with such an enemy as yourself, induced me to fly at your approach.”

“’Twas not judiciously determined,” said the trooper, “as Roanoke has the heels of you greatly; and flying from Scylla, you were liable to encounter Charybdis. Those woods and rocks cover the very enemies you dread.”

“The savages!” exclaimed the divine, instinctively placing the trooper in the rear.

“More than savages; men who, under the guise of patriotism, prowl through the community, with a thirst for plunder that is unsatiable, and a love of cruelty that mocks the ingenuity of the Indian—fellows whose mouths are filled with liberty and equality, and whose hearts are overflowing with cupidity and gall—gentlemen that are yclep’d the Skinners.”

“I have heard them mentioned in our army,” said the frightened divine, “and had thought them to be the aborigines.”

“You did the savages injustice.”

They now approached the spot occupied by Hollister, who witnessed with surprise the character of the prisoner made by his captain. Lawton gave his orders, and the men immediately commenced securing and removing such articles of furniture as were thought worthy of the trouble; and the captain, with his reverend associate, who was mounted on a mettled horse, returned to the quarters of the troop.

It was the wish of Singleton that the remains of his sister should be conveyed to the post commanded by his father, and preparations were early made to this effect. The wounded British were placed under the control of the chaplain; and towards the middle of the day Lawton saw all the arrangements so far completed, as to render it probable that in a few hours he would be left with his small party, in undisturbed possession of the Corners.

While leaning in the doorway, gazing in moody silence at the ground which had been the scene of the last night’s chase, his ear caught the sound of a horse, and the next moment a dragoon of his own troop appeared dashing up the road, as if on business of the last importance. The steed was foaming, and the rider had the appearance of having done a day’s service. Without speaking, he placed a letter in the hand of Lawton, and led his charger to the stable. The trooper knew the hand of the major, and ran his eye over the following:—

“I rejoice it is the order of Washington, that the family of the Locusts are to be removed above the Highlands. They are to be admitted to the society of Captain Wharton, who waits only for their testimony to be tried. You will communicate this order, and with proper delicacy I do not doubt. The English are moving up the river; and the moment you see the Whartons in safety, break up and join your troop. There will be good service to be done when we meet, as Sir Henry is reported to have sent out a real soldier in command. Reports must be made to the commandant at Peekskill, for Colonel Singleton is withdrawn to headquarters, to preside over the inquiry upon poor Wharton. Fresh orders have been sent to hang the peddler if we can take him, but they are not from the commander in chief. Detail a small guard with the ladies, and get into the saddle as soon as possible.”

Yours sincerely,
“PEYTON DUNWOODIE.”

This communication entirely changed the whole arrangement. There was no longer any motive for removing the body of Isabella, since her father was no longer with his command, and Singleton reluctantly acquiesced in an immediate interment. A retired and lovely spot was selected, near the foot of the adjacent rocks, and such rude preparations were made as the time and the situation of the country permitted. A few of the neighboring inhabitants collected from curiosity and interest, and Miss Peyton and Frances wept in sincerity over her grave. The solemn offices of the church were performed by the minister, who had so lately stood forth to officiate in another and very different duty; and Lawton bent his head, and passed his hand across his brow, while the words that accompanied the first clod were uttered.

A new stimulus was given to the Whartons by the intelligence conveyed in the letter of Dunwoodie; and Caesar, with his horses, was once more put in requisition. The relics of the property were intrusted to a neighbor, in whom they had confidence; and, accompanied by the unconscious Sarah, and attended by four dragoons and all of the American wounded, Mr. Wharton’s party took their departure. They were speedily followed by the English chaplain, with his countrymen, who were conveyed to the waterside, where a vessel was in waiting to receive them. Lawton joyfully witnessed these movements; and as soon as the latter were out of sight, he ordered his own bugle to sound. Everything was instantly in motion. The mare of Mrs. Flanagan was again fastened to the cart; Dr. Sitgreaves exhibited his shapeless form once more on horseback; and the trooper appeared in the saddle, rejoicing in his emancipation.

The word to march was given; and Lawton, throwing a look of sullen ferocity at the place of the Skinner’s concealment, and another of melancholy regret towards the grave of Isabella, led the way, accompanied by the surgeon in a brown study; while Sergeant Hollister and Betty brought up the rear, leaving a fresh southerly wind to whistle through the open doors and broken windows of the “Hotel Flanagan,” where the laugh of hilarity, the joke of the hardy partisan, and the lamentations of the sorrowing, had so lately echoed.