The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 13, 1903, Page 1

A Little Traitor to the South, Cyrus Townsend Brady’s Great Novel, Begins in the Big Christmas Call Next Sunday. + IS eyes flashed and he drew him- = taken all, sir, as : & wave of the v d my little mald step nearer and faced me Two of my sons eld of Camden, Tarleton slew ing Creek A roving savages, mind and the child with her blus < “Oh, I she cried. “Won't tain Jack?" still clasping arms terror. s same King me a home- to give some starting back; ide? But your my good 1 exchange ff ar but that I can B took the 1 good, T care a be? May- stand till the him with excite- » his first bat- n the Wedn arleton with four would soon be I could, and that Poor Tom s Fishing Creek was the only 3 d the I s e gone my good friend.” sa gt for me. If Ferguso cation with the main at ray halt him yet.” made a gesture of impa- 2 thing done because it is as The major will break to-morrow morning, and harlotte at ease in two h their losing of his n men are those same less, we shall halt him,” “Have you ever an inkhorn and ur cabin?” your service, sir. But I can it the little maid's judg- e who have made her father- her stopping of me I me unprepared into the emy. 1 am the bearer of Lord Cornwallis to this erguson.” rer of Lord Cornwallis’ The old man put a blade's us and held the little one I might do her a and bade him be nd T may not take it a word will I made my sub- purpose. My de me his dis- thought I knew hen no one else of time ink and quill.” d man led the way into the cabin s writing tools at my disposal. elf, 1 should have broken the scal ¢ wise old ally, ‘ e re us on the rude s t he letter proved to be the commands: a per- to Ferguson to rejoin the procceding by forced edful. and on no account to t with the over-mountain to change such an order to re- effect, 1 kriew no more than a again my ancient ally f to be a man of parts. pen to make it the fellow =d by my Lord Cornwallis, he th handwriting of the letter made a few practice pothooks to e imitative hang of it, and wrote this postscriptum at the bottom of the sheet Since writing the foregoing I have vour courier and his dispatches. Lieu- tenant Colonel Tarleton with four hun- dred of his legion will take the road for ou to-night. If battle is forced upon , 1, make a stand and hold the enemy in :ck till reinforcemests come. “CORNWALLIS." The old man sanded the wet pen- rtiokes and bade me say if it would serve. *Twas a most beautiful forgery. My lor@’s crabbed handwriting was cop- ied to 2 nicety, and of the two signatures the circle “C,” the same printing °T, same heavy precision throughout. said 1. “Now. if the Jiglit- strike the pu d have the S hand's tur d the patrierch; “are you mine bay in “How G him I was; told him of my lord's piot within a plot—that three light-horse riders, one of them a lleutenant bearing duplicate dispatches, had been hard upon my heels ail the way from Charlotte. At this the old warhorse—I learned afterward that he had fought through the French and Indian war—wagged his beard and his eye flashed. “We must stop them,” he sald. “Three of them, do you say? “Three white men and an Indlan tratler.” “Ha! If it were not for the little maid. * * ¢ Let me think.” He fell to pacing up and down before the fire on the hearth, and I took the small one on my knee to let her chatter me. 'Twas five full minutes before my anclent gave me the worth of his cogitations, but when he did speak it was much to the purpose. “These marplot rear-guards of yours it all if they come to Fergu- either before or after you. Do the major's present where- © more than I did ‘an hour ago. As t. they are depending on me to em the way.” en; dead men tell no tales.” od friend, you forget of them and. only-two of We should stand little chance with ir fight.” show fires were behind them. en Tarleton's men pon Tom Sumter’s rest camp at Creek and cut down this little ther while he was naked ‘and stream? Was it fair fight ng George's Indian devils came dead of night upon our de- at Northby? Never talk ess while all this = for a little space. sy to decide On one ty to the cause I had es- nt sente e on these ives stood in the way; humanity cried out ars, and hint that T art of mercy since of the three Chero- en’ in the lone valley of the ins. “We d it give the out of-their own store of and ferocity. But as for ckers, three of them, at E ers and men of my own 1 not do it, firmiy. 2 dole n “These followers iust be stopped, as you say, 50 need of my going on. But t be no butcher's work.” reh frowned and wagged his triot should hold himself his own life or take an- th he. am most willing on both we have had enough and enough of midnight massa- ready oth: to qu than Where this argumen us in the end, I know both wax rm upc maid in childish terror. “Injun man!”. was all she could say; but that was enough. At a bound 1 reached the door. An Indian was at my horse's head, loosing the halter, as I thought Before he could twist to face me the point of the Ferrara was at his d have led t, since we were it. But in the came running in her blue eyes wide Luckily, he had the wit not to move. o kil! Lncanoola,” he muttered, this without the stirring of a muscle. Ther as if he were talking to the horse w, she send 'um word; say point dropped as if another blade rried the thrust. ress Margery, you mean? from her?” send 'um word; say ‘good-by,’ " he repeated “What else did she say?" I demanded. “No say anyt'ing else; say ‘good-by.’” He tu upon me at that and I saw why he had kept his face averted. He had on the war paint-of a Cherokee chief. ‘Uncancola good Chelakee now, grinned. “Help redcoat soldfer find tain Longknife, Wah.” I saw his drift, and his cou the thing staggered me. trated to the inner come S yon he Cap- though I knew boldness of the He, too, had pene- Ilines of the British encampment at Charlotte: and when they had sought an Indian tracker to lift m:‘ trail "twas he who had volunteered. But now my spirits rose. With this unex- 1y we might hope to deal force- fairly with my rear-guard. your masters now?” I ‘Where are asked. He spat unpon the ground. atawba chief has no master,” he said, proudly. “Redcoat palefaces yonder,” pointing back the way I had come. ‘‘Make fire, b 3 il tea, sing song, heap smoke pipe.” “We must take them,” said I He nodded. “Kill 'em all; tak ol e scalp. The blocdthirstiness of my two allies was appalling. But I undertook to cool the Indian’s ardor, explaining that the redcoat soldiers were the Longknife's brothers, in a way. not to be slain save in honorable battle. - I am not sure whether I earned the Catawba's con- tempt or his pity for my weakness; but since he was loval to the benefactor first, and a savage afterward, he yielded the point. So now I made him known to my pa- triarchal host, who all this time had been standing guard at the cabin door with the old Queen’s-arm for a weapon. So we three sat on the doorstone and planned it out. When the night was far enough zdvanced we would stalk the sol- diers in their camp, sparing life as we could When all was settled the old man gave us a supper of his humble fare, after which we went into the ojen again to sit out the hours of waiting. The rain had ceased, but the night was cloudy and the darkness a soft black vell to shroud the nearest objects. High overhead the au- tumn wind was sighing in the tree-tops, and now and again a sharper gust would bring down a pattering volley of lodged rain drovs from the fallen leaves. Unecanoola sat apart in stoical silence, smcking his long-stemmed pipe. The old man and I talked in low tones, or rather he would tell me of his past while I sat and listened, holding the little maid in my arms. After a time the child fell asleep, and I craved permission to put her in the lit- tle crib bed in the chimney corner. The flickering light of the fire fell upon her iny hands about my neck and laid n. Again the wave of softness submerged me and I bent to leave a kiss upon the sweet unconsclous lips. Ah, my dears, you may smile agaln, if ; but at that moment I had a far-off glimpse of the beatitude of father- hood: T was no longer the bard old so dier I have drawn for you; I was but & man, hungering and thirsting. for th love of a wife and trusting, clinging lit- tle children like this sweet maid. 1 rose, turning iny back upon the chim- new corner and its holdings with a sigh. For now the time was come for action, and I must needs be a man of blood and iron again Lacking the Catawba to guide us, I doubt if either the old man or I could have found my rear-guard's bivouac near the trail I had left. But Uncanoola led us straight through the pitchy darkness; and when we were come upon the three soldiers we found them all asleep around the handful of campfire. "Twould have been murder outright to kill them thus, and now I think. the old petriarch forgot his wrongs and was as merciful as 1. But mot so the Catawba. He had armed himself with a stout’ war ¢lub, and before I was free to stop him he had knocked two of the three sleepers senseles: d-would have battered out their brains but for the ol& man's inter- vention. ¥ As for the officer, I had flung myself’ upon him in the rush and wos having a pretty handfuf of him. But though he was broad in the shoulders and s agile as a cat, he was taken at 'a ssleeping man's disadvantage, end 80, I presently had the betterfof him. “Enough, man! 'tis as good as a feast!” he cried, when I had him fast pinioned; d thereupon I let him have breath and freedom to sit up. In the act he had his first good sight of me, as I had mine of him. . “fwas Tybee and no other. throat your %frien your enem “But you are” I rejoined, shamefacedly, yet thankful to ti tips that I had not col sacre. “I am for the Commonwealth, lieutenant, and you are prisoner. May I trouble you for the ispatches you carry?” He looked up at me with a queer gri- mace on his boyish face. “The devil! but you're a cool hand, Captain Ireton! Whatever you were In that coil at Appleby, you've led the spy's long suit this time. And I'm not sure whether I like you any-the worse for it, if 50 be you must be a rebel.” And with that, he gave me the sealed packet and asked me what I would do with him. His query set me thinking. As for the two stunned tropers, I meant to turn them over to the old man for safe keep- ing; but I was loth to make it harder than need be for this good-patured youngster. So I put him upon his honor. “Do you know what this packet con- tains?” I asked. He laughed. “My lord did not honor me with his confidence. I was to follow vou in to Major Ferguson's camp, deliver the dispatches and vanish.” “Good; then you need tell no lies. When the Indian has fetched my horse, I shal! ride to Ferguson's camp, and you may ride with me. I shall ask no more than this: that you do not fight again till you are exchanged; and that you will not tell Major Ferguson whose prisoner you are. Do you accept the terms?" “Gad! I'd bea fool not to. But what's in the wind. captain? Surely you can tell me, now that I am safely out of the running. “You will know in a day or two; and in the meantime ignorance is your best safety. You can tell Major Ferguson that you were waylaid on the road by a party of the enemy, and that you were paroled and fell in with me.” He looked a littie rueful, as a good eoldier would, but was disposed to make the best of a bad bargain. “Here’s my hand on it,” he said; and a little later we had dragged the two troopers to the cabin, where the old man became surety for thelr safe keeping, and were feeling our way cautiously westward at the heels of the Catawba, who had taken his directions from our patriarch. We pressed forward in silence through the shadowy labyrinth of the wood for a time, but at the crossing of a small run- let where we would stop to let the horses drink, Tybee burst out a-laughing. v Tis as good as a play,” he said. “Three several times I've had to change my mind about you, Captain Ireton, and I'm not cock-sure I have your measure vet. But T'll say this: if you've strung my lord successfully, you'll be the first to do it and come off alive in the end.” “The end is not yet, my good friend; and I may not come off better than the others,” I rejoined. And with that we fared on again till we could see the campfires of Ferguson's little army twinkling between the tree trunks, CHAPTER XXXVIIL IN WHICH WE FIND THE GUN- MAKER. . As you may be sure, Major Patrick Ferguson was far too good a soldier to leave his camp unguardéd on any side, and while we were yet a far cannon shot from the glimering fires a sentry's chal- my captain,” he said, feeling his f you have a grip like that for ds, I'm damned glad I'm not rather finger nted to a mas- 'ongres$ and the b \ lenge halted us. To the man’s “Halt! Who goes there?” I gave the word “Friends.” salving my conscience for the needful lie as I might. “Advance, friends, and give the coun- tersign.” I confessed my ignorance of the night word, saying that we were a paroled prisoner and a bearer of dispatches, and asking that we be taken to Major Fer- guson's headquarters. There was some little cautious demurring on the part of the sentry, but finally he passed the word for the guard captain and we were escorted to the tent of the field comman- der. 1 marked the encampment as I could in passing through it. The little army was three-fourths made up of Tory mili- tia; and there was drinking and song singing and a plentiful lack of discipline around the campfires of these auxiliaries. But a different air was abroad in the camp of the regulars; you would see a soldierly alertness on the part of the men, and there was no roystering in that quarter. Major Ferguson’s tent was on a hillock some distance back of the stream, and thither we were conducted; we, I say, meaning Tybee and myself, for Unca- noola had disappeared like a whiff of smoke at our challenging on the sentry line. Late as It was, the major was up and kard at work. His tent table, trans- formed for the time into a mechanic's workbench, was littered with gun bar- rels and tools and screws and odd-shaped pieces of mechanism—the disjointed parts of that breech-loading musket of which the ingenious Scotchman was the inventor. Being deep in the creative trance when ’ we came upon him, the major gave us but an absent-minded greeting, listening with the outward ear only when Tybee reported his mission and his capture and parole. “From my lord, ye say? I Hope ye left him well,” was all the answer the lieutenant got, the inventor fitting away at his gun puzzle the while. Tybee made proper rejoinder and stood aside to give me room. I drew a sealed inclosure from my pocket and laid it on the workbench table. “I also have the honor to come from my Lord Cornwallis, bringing dis- patches”—so far I got in my cut-and- dried speech, and then my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth and I could no more finish the sentence than could a man suddenly nipped in a vise. In- stead of the carefully doctored original, I had given the major the duplicate dis- patch taken from Tybee. Ah, my dears, that was a moment for swift thought @nd still swifter action; and ‘tis the Ireton genius to be slow and sure and no wise “gleg at the up- tak’,” as a Scot would say. Yet for this once my good angel gave me a prompting and the wit to use it. In that clock-tick of benumbing despair when the success of the hazardous venture and much more that I' wist of hung sus- pended by a hair over the abyss of fail- ure, ' I minded me of a boyish trick wherewith I used to fright the timid blacks in the old days at Appleby Hun- dred. So while the major was reach- ing for the packet—nay, when he had it in his hand—I started back with a warning cry, giving that imitation of the ominous skir-r-r of a rattlesnake which had more than once got me a cuffing from my father. ‘Bedlamite. In any crisis less tremendous 1 sho have roared a-laughing to see the dough ty major and my good friend the lieu- tenant vie with each other in their skip- n But ghing moment for me. At b sword was out and I was hacking hither and yon at the imagin- ary foe. In the hurly-burly I contrived to sprawl all across the work-bench table, and the packet which would have killed my plot—and, belike, the plotter as well—was reared and quickly jagged into hiding. “Damme! see now what you've done; you've split my breech-charger all about the place!” rasped the major, when all was over. And then: “Who the devil are ye, anyway: and what do ye want wi' me?” I clicked my heels, saluted, and gave him the express from my lord—the right one. this time. He tore off the wrapping, swore a hearty soldier oath when he read the fore part of the letter and clapped his leg joyfully. like the brave gentleman that he was, when he came to the post- criptum. “Ye're a fine fellow, cantain: ve've brought me good news,” he said: then he bade an aide call Captain de Peyster. his second in command, and in the same breath gave Tybee and me in charge to an ensign for our billeting. for, the night. You will conceive that I was ‘overjoyed at this seemingly safe and easy planting of the petard which was to blow my Lord Cornwallis’ plans into the air; and in anticipation 1 saw the tide-turning battle and heard the huzzas of the moun- tain victors. But 'tis a good old.saw that cautions against hallooing before you are out of the wood. Cantain de Peyster was come, and Tybee and I were taking our leave of the major, when there was a sudden commotion among the guards without, and a little man in black, his wig awry and his clothing torn by the rough man-handling of the sentries, burst into tke tent. “Seize him! Seize him! He is a rebel spy!" he shrieked, pointing at me. ‘As vou would guess, all talk paused at this dramatic interruntion. and all eyes were turned upon me. Had the little viper been content to rest his charge up- on the simple accusation, I know not what might have happened. But when he got his breath he burst out in a tirade of the foulest abuse, cursing me up one side and down the other, and en®ing in a gibbering fit of rage that left him pal- lid and foaming at the lips—and gave me my cue. “Tis the little madman of Queens- borough,” I sald, coolly, explaining to the bluff major. “His mania takes the form of a curious haired for me, though 1 know not why. Two days since, he was put in arrest by my lord authority for threatening my life and that of his mas- ter’s daughter. Now, it would seem, he has broken jail and followed me hither.” “A lunatic, eh? He looks it, every inch,” said the major; and the black- guard lawyer, hearing my counter ac- cusation, was doing his best to give it a savor of likelihood by fighting frantically with the two soldiers who had followed him into the tent. “Qut wi’ him!" commanded the major. “We've no time to foolish away wi' a Take him away and peg him out, and gi' him a dash o' water to cool his head.” ¥ h my Pengarvin fought like a fury, and his venomous rage defeated all his attempts to say calmly the words_which might have got him a hear- ing. So he was haled away, -flgsn‘ and struggling like a trapped wil t, _and “when we were rid of him the major bade us_good-night again. held his peace like a fellow till we had rolled us in our be- fore one of the camp fires. But justas I DEC. 1371903 was dropping asleep he broke out with, “I would you might tell me what piece of rebel villainy this is that I've been & winking accomplice to.” 1laughed. “'Tis a thing to make Ma- jor Ferguson rejoice, as you saw. And surely, it can be no great villalny to give a man what he's thirsting for. Bide r time, lleutenant, and you shall see outcome.” CHAPTER XXXIX. THE THUNDER OF THE CAPTAINS AND THE SHOUTING. The camp was astir early the’' next morning and it soon became noised about that we were to fall back, but only se far as might be needful to find a strong position. From this it was evident that & battle was imminent, though as yet there were no signs of the approach of the patriots. From the camp talk we, Tybee and L gleaned some better information of the situation. A fortnight earlier Major Ferguson had captured two of the over- mountain men ot Clark's party and had sent them to the settlement on _the ‘Watauga with a challenge in due form —or rather with the threat to come and lay the over-mountain region waste in default of an instant returp of the pio- neers to their al he king This challen had been im and Shelby had emboc dred men each from t the Holston ttlem William Campbell, t terian Imdian fight with as ma Crossing troops had falle outs told us, pted. Sevier oW, lenged outnumbere Learning this F 1gers. was as who prudent as he was brave, thought it best 1o make his stand at some point nearer the main body of the army; and $o the withdrawal from Gilbert Town had fall- en into a retreat and a pursuit From what since told me little doubt that th flght when had into a favorable position Lord Cornwal trary. In his s tinually urging t g i push fn his quarter [ f arleton and a sufficient number of the legion to enabl » with a mounted en- emy. s it may, the garbled letter I had b turned what- ever scale wn. He had now with him some eieven hundred reg- ulars and Tori r ntly well drilled; he had every reasongto expect the needed help from Cornwallis; and on the night of my a 1 word _that another Tory fo under Major Gibbe would jein him in a day or two at far- thest. For his battleground Ma chose the top of a oTe the last and lowest ¢ pamed that day Kir And if my ha to draw you s S this, »ch-marking battle of Kings vhich followed indeed all too still more on coming ng forth the tragic dreadful after-night. Wherefore I pray you will hold me ex- my dears, 1 hasten over the tripping the heels of the y. touching hem only as they touch upon my Ferguson hill, spon wagon_barricade; th they v ound us. 'Twas and night gone and Isaac Shelby 1208 evier ping biood-crazed till brought somewhat of order out i it and then came the reckoning. Of the seven hundred-odd prisoners the greater number were Tories, many of t red-handed from scenes of ra- pine in which their present captors had suffered the loss of all that men hold dear. So you will not wonder that there were knives and rifles shaken aloft and iterce and v £ els in which 1c was proposed to and all to the cord . But now ag: Sevier and Shelby, sec~ onded by the flery Presbyterian, William flung themselves into the for delay and a fair were blood guilty. And 5o the dismal night, made chill and com- fortless by the cold wind and most dole- ful by the groans and cries of the wounded, wore away, and the dawn of the Sunday found us lying as we were in the bloody shambles of the hilltop. The dead buried and the wounded cared for in some rough and ready fash- ion, preparations were made in ail haste captives one for a speedy withdrawal from the neigh- borhood of the battlefield. that Tar] Rumor bad it ton, with his invincible legion, a few hours’ march: and the men, sodden weary with the ing advance and the hard- were in no fettle to cope with a fresh foe. As yet I had not made myself known to the patrict commanders, bhaving my hands and heart full with the care of poor Tybee, who was grievously hurt, and being in a measure indifferent to what should befall me. vere about to march I was dragged e the committee of colonels and put to the question. “Your uniform is a strange one to us, * sald Isaac Shelby, looking me up that heavy-lidded right ain rank ¥ our r mply, and, thought, effectively; and had only black looks for my pains. is a stran tale, surely, sir—too nge to be believable,” quote Shelby. “You are a traitor, Captain Ireton—of the kind we need not cumber ourselves with on a march.” “Who says that word of me?” T de- manded, caring not much for that to which his threat pointed, but something for my good name. Shelby turned and beckoned to a man behind him. “Stand out, " he directed: and I > to face with that rifle- man of Colonel Dav party who had been so fierce to hang me at the fording of the Catawba. This man gave his testimony briefly, telling but the bare truth. A week ear- lier I had passed in Davie's camp for a true blue patriot, this though 1 was wearing a ragged Brit- ish uniform at the moment. As for the witness himself. he had mis- doubted me all along, but the colonel had trusted me and had sent me on some secret mission, the inwardness of which he, John Whittlesey, had been un- able to come at, though he confessed that. he had tried to worm it out of me before parting company with me on the road to Charlotte. 2 I locked from one to apother of my ’udf“' “If this be all, gentlemen, the man does but confirm my story,” I md"lr “It is not all,” said Shelby. There was another stir in the back- Pengarvin, stand forth.” grounding group. and the ttifogger e¢dged his way into the circle, keeping well out of hand reach of me. How he made shift to escape from Fergu- son’s men, to change sides, and to turn up thus serenely in_the ranks of the over-mountain men. I know not to this day. nor ever shall know. “Tell these gertlemen what you have told me,” said Shelby, oriefly, and the factor, cool and collected now, rehearsed the undeniable facts: how in Charlotte I had ired as a member of Lord Corn- wallis’ military family; how, as Corn: trusted aid-de-camp, I had