“Well, here we are in Virginia,” said Tom Dare. “It is fine, don’t you fellows think? When we left New York, it was cold, with heavy snow on the ground, while here, instead of snow, there are patches of green grass and the weather is warm and nice.”
“It certainly is lots more pleasant here than in New York at this time of the year,” agreed Ben Foster.
“Yes, camp life is much more agreeable in a warm climate than in a region where there is snow and cold weather,” acquiesced Dick Dare.
It was now the middle of the month of December of the year 1780, and the patriot regiment under the command of Colonel Morris had been sent down from the vicinity of New York, by General Washington, to try to hold in check the army of General Arnold, the traitor, who, having tried to deliver his country into the hands of the British, for gold, and failed, had been sent to Virginia, to have charge of the British campaign in that State.
One of the reasons for sending Arnold down there was to get him far enough away from General Washington, so that there would not be much danger of his being captured, an attempt to capture him while he was in New York having been made, but without success.
In Colonel Morris’ regiment, and among the members of the company commanded by Captain Morgan, were three youths of about twenty years, who had done good work for the patriot cause during the years they had been in the patriot army. These youths were Dick and Tom Dare, brothers, and Ben Foster, a neighbor boy--the Dares and Fosters living close together, in New Jersey, a few miles east of Philadelphia--and now that they were here in Virginia, they looked forward to a lively campaign, for the warm, pleasant weather, so different from what they had left up North, would make it possible to move swiftly about the country.
The regiment had gone into camp on the bank of a little stream in the heavy woods, perhaps ten miles from the James River. Colonel Morris did not know the whereabouts of Arnold and his army, but liking this site for an encampment, he had decided to stay till he gained the necessary information.
When we introduce the Dare Boys and Ben Foster to the reader’s notice, it is evening, and the soldiers are engaged in cooking their suppers beside the campfires. It was a lively, picturesque and interesting scene indeed, or would have so looked to anyone viewing such a scene for the first time. But to the soldiers, who had been campaigning four years, no thought of their appearance came to them. Their minds were on the then very essential matter of cooking their supper.
This important task finished finally, the soldiers ate heartily, and then, as was their wont, settled down to enjoy themselves. Those who smoked lighted their pipes, while others sat about in groups and talked of the coming campaign, in which they hoped to be able to make it hot for the traitor, Arnold, and his army of British soldiers and Tories.
Dick, Tom and Ben, and some of the other soldiers, among whom were Tim Murphy and Fritz Schmockenburg, sat in a little group and talked earnestly of their expected encounters with Arnold and his little army, and all were pleased with the outlook. They liked what they had seen of Virginia, and were glad they had come to the South, where suffering from the cold was not a necessary concomitant of camp life.
“I like id down here,” said Fritz, nodding decidedly. “I hobe dot ve sday down here till der war is ended alretty.”
“Sure an’ thot would suit me, too,” said Tim. “Oi’m t’inkin’ thot Virginia is good enough for me.”
“I wonder where Arnold’s army is,” said Tom.
“That is what everybody is wondering, I guess,” said Ben.
“Yes,” said Dick. “We know that Arnold is somewhere in this part of Virginia, but he may be a hundred miles from this spot.”
“Well, when we find out where he is, we’ll make it hot for him,” said Tom.
“Yah, dot is vot ve vill do,” said Fritz.
They continued to talk quite a while, and finally got out their blankets, lay down and were soon sound asleep. They slept splendidly till morning, and then cooked and ate their breakfast, after which for exercise they walked about for a while; of course within the bounds of the camp, after which they again sat down to talk.
While thus engaged, an orderly from Colonel Morris’ tent appeared, and said to Dick Dare:
“All right,” the youth replied. “I’ll go along with you.” He got up and accompanied the orderly, and was soon standing in the tent, in the presence of Colonel Morris.
“Dick Dare,” said the colonel, looking at the youth earnestly, “we are desirous of learning the whereabouts of Arnold’s army, and so I have summoned you to tell you that I want you to go in search of Arnold’s encampment.”
Dick’s face lighted up. This was just the kind of work he liked. He had done much of scouting and spying for General Washington, and he was always glad to be sent on work of this kind.
“I shall be glad to go and search for Arnold’s encampment, sir,” he said. “When shall I start?”
“As soon as you can get ready. I am eager to get Arnold located. Then I can begin my campaign against him.”
“I will start at once, sir. Have you any instructions to give?”
“Very well, sir. If there is nothing else you wish to say, I will go.”
“That is all, Dick. Find Arnold, and then report to me as quickly as possible.”
“I will do my best, sir.” Then Dick saluted and withdrew, and hastened back to the point where his comrades were. The moment they caught sight of his glowing face, they uttered exclamations.
“You are going in search of Arnold’s army, I’ll wager!” exclaimed Tom.
“Yah, dot is vot he is goin’ to do,” nodded Fritz.
“Av coorse,” said Tim. “He’s the bye thot can foind Arnold, av innywan can.”
“Yes, I’m going in search of Arnold’s army,” said Dick.
“Say, I’m going with you,” said Tom, decidedly.
“And so am I,” said Ben.
“The three of us can spread out and cover a lot more ground than one person can,” said Tom. “We’re going with you, Dick.”
Dick looked at them thoughtfully. “I guess you are right about that,” he said, presently. “Yes, I’ll take you two chaps along.”
“Say, why not take Dootchy an’ mesilf wid ye, Dick?” exclaimed Tim, who would have liked immensely to have gone with the three youths.
“That would be too many, Tim,” was the reply. “No, just Tom, Ben and myself will go.”
Dick went and reported to Captain Morgan, and was granted permission to take Tom and Ben with him, and a few minutes later the three left the encampment, followed by wishes for good luck from their comrades. They set out in the direction that they thought might lead toward the encampment of Arnold.
They walked at a moderate pace, and kept a sharp lookout around them, for they did not know but they might happen upon redcoats anywhere. And there might be parties of Tories in that part of the country.
They kept onward till noon, however, and had not seen any redcoats. They had seen only three houses in that time, and although they made inquiries at the houses, they did not learn of the presence anywhere in that part of the country of the British.
They ate a cold bite for luncheon, and then rested a while, and discussed the matter that had brought them into the wilderness, trying to figure out which direction was most likely to lead them to Arnold, and finally they got up and set out again.
They kept on going till about the middle of the afternoon, and then they came to the top of a ridge. It was covered with trees--in fact, they had been traveling through the timber pretty much ever since leaving camp--and here they paused, looking down the slope at the other side of the ridge.
At first, they saw nothing unusual, then suddenly an exclamation escaped the lips of Dick, and pointing his finger, he said in a low voice: “See yonder, boys.”
Tom and Ben looked in the direction indicated, and Tom said, excitedly: “Sure as living, a party of redcoats!”
“Yes,” said Dick. “Be careful, boys, and don’t let them see you. Get slowly behind trees.”
They took up their stations as suggested, and after a few minutes Dick said: “I’m going to slip down there, get within hearing distance of those fellows, if I can, and learn what they are doing here.”
“Look out that they don’t see and capture you, Dick,” cautioned Tom.
“I’ll be careful,” was the reply. Then, telling the two to remain there, Dick set out on his perilous expedition.
He was careful to keep trees between himself and the redcoats, and as he was skilled at this kind of work, he managed to reach a point within hearing distance of the redcoats as they sat talking, then stationed behind a tree, Dick stood there, listening intently.
As it turned out, he was well repaid for the danger he had run in coming there, for he heard the British soldiers talking of how they were going to visit a settlement made up mostly of patriots, as soon as it was dark, plunder the homes of the settlers, and then burn the houses down.
It was a cold-blooded plan, and Dick shuddered as he listened, but at the same time he made up his mind to hasten to the settlement, warn the settlers, and thus enable them to either prepare to defend themselves, or take their leave before the redcoats put in an appearance.
Dick was on the point of slipping away, when he saw a couple of redcoats leave the group and come slowly toward the very tree behind which he was standing.
His blood suddenly seemed to congeal, for he realized that he was in great danger of discovery and capture.
About the time that Dick was standing behind the tree, with the two redcoats approaching, in a little log cabin that was used as a school building, at a point about a mile from a Tory settlement consisting of about thirty families, sat a rather good-looking young man of perhaps twenty-four years of age. He was to play a rather important part in the life of Dick Dare and must now be introduced to the reader.
Herbert Miller was his name, and he was the teacher of the school. As the children had gone home, he was sitting at his desk, reading.
As has been stated, the schoolhouse stood about a mile from a Tory settlement, and about two miles from the schoolhouse, in the other direction, was a patriot settlement, consisting of about a dozen families. The schoolhouse had been placed where it stood, for the convenience of the children from both settlements, but was closer to the Tory settlement because there were more of the Tories than of the patriots. Of late, however, since the coming into that region of Arnold, with his army of British and Tory soldiers, the Tories of the settlement had grown rather arrogant. This, being taken up by their children, resulted in lots of trouble at the school, the Tory children abusing the patriot children in spite of the efforts of the teacher to prevent it, and at the time of which we write only a few patriot children were attending the school. These few were the larger children, who could hold their own successfully against the arrogant and aggressive Tory children.
Herbert Miller was an intelligent young man, and he was at heart a sympathizer with the patriots, and hoped the American people would gain their independence, but of course he did not say much about this in the settlement, where he boarded. He was not a resident of this community, having come from a point more than a hundred miles distant.
Suddenly the sound of voices and the scraping of feet were heard by the teacher, and he rose and walked to the door. He was about to open it, but hesitated, and then placed his eye to a crack and looked through. He saw standing in front of the schoolhouse four men, and they were the worst and most rabid Tories in the settlement. Their leader was Hank Sprowl. He was practically a desperado, who made his living by hunting, and was not liked even by those who professed to be his friends.
Miller stood there gazing through the crack and wondering why the Tories were there. What did it mean? And why did they not enter, if they had business with him?
These questions he could not answer, and so after hesitating a few moments, he having first thought of opening the door and questioning the men, he turned and walked back to his desk, sat down and began reading. “If they have any business with me, they will come in and say so, presently.” This he thought was likely.
Suddenly Miller’s attention was attracted by a tapping on the window, and he glanced in that direction, and saw the face of Henry Philips, a boy of ten years, and a true friend of his. The boy was indeed a patriot at heart, and for that reason he was not liked by the other pupils at the school, and Miller had often interfered to keep bigger boys from abusing Henry, thus earning the boy’s regards.
There was a look of excitement on the boy’s face, and Miller, guessing that there was something in the wind, rose and went quietly to the window, and raising it, was about to speak, but the boy said, “Sh! Don’t say anything, Mr. Miller. I’ve come to warn ye.”
“What is the trouble?” the teacher asked in a whisper.
“The Tories are goin’ to ketch ye when ye leave the schoolhouse an’ give ye a coat uv tar an’ feathers!” whispered the boy, glancing warily around him.
Miller started. “Why?” he asked.
“Cause ye’re a patriot,” was the reply. “Hank Sprowl an’ two or three more Tories are aroun’ at the front, now, waitin’ fur ye to come out.”
“I knew they were out there, Henry, but I didn’t know, could not imagine, why they were there. So that is what they are up to, is it?”
Doubtless that was Miller’s first inclination, but he thought a few moments, and then shook his head. “I don’t think that I’ll do that, Henry,” he said. “No, I’ll go out through the front door, as usual, and I don’t believe they’ll dare lay hands on me.”
“Ye don’ know Hank Sprowl ef ye think that,” said the boy. “He’s a bad one, he is.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I’m not going to climb out at the window and try to avoid them. I might as well meet them face to face, and I don’t believe they’ll bother me.”
“They’re cookin’ the tar down here in the gully,” said the boy, his face pale. “An’ I seen Jim Simmons comin’ with a bag of feathers as I left the gully.”
“Oh, well, I’ll not try to avoid them by slipping out of the window, Henry. If they are making their preparations, I might as well meet them and show them that I’m not afraid of them.”
“They’ll handle ye rough, Mister Miller,” said the boy, his face pale. “They’re mighty mean men, them fellers that Hank Sprowl has helpin’ him.”
“I know that, Henry. I’m much obliged for your kindness in coming to warn me. Now you had better go, before they see you, and handle you roughly also.”
“I’ll go. Well, good-by, Mister Miller. I hope they won’t put no tar an’ feathers onto ye.”
“I hardly think they will, Henry. Good-by.”
Then the boy dropped to the ground, and disappeared into the brush at the back of the schoolhouse.
Miller slowly and thoughtfully lowered the window, returned, took a seat at his desk, and sat there, gazing toward the door and evidently doing a lot of thinking. He glanced toward the window once or twice, and then resolutely rose and walked to the door, and opening it, stepped out of doors--to be confronted by Hank Sprowl and the three Tories.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted Miller, pleasantly. “Fine evening, is it not?”
The men exchanged glances, and it was evident that they were somewhat taken aback by the coolness and sang froid of their intended victim.
“Good evenin’,” said Sprowl, gruffly. “Yas, et’s a fine evenin’--a fine evenin’ to put geese-feathers onto rebel birds like ye! Hey, fellers?”
“What do you mean?” asked Miller, pretending that he did not grasp Sprowl’s meaning.
“I mean that we’re goin’ to give ye a coat of tar and feathers, ye blamed rebel!” snarled Sprowl. “That’s what I mean.”
Miller looked from one to another inquiringly, and then said: “Why should you want to do that?”
“I’ve jest told ye,” replied Sprowl, harshly. “Because ye’re a rebel, that’s why.”
“I know better. Ye air a rebel. We’ve heerd how ye talk in favor of the rebels, and how ye hev said as how ye hope ther rebels will win in ther war ag’in ther king. Ye kain’t deny that ye hev talked in favor of ther rebels, an’ so now we’re goin’ to give ye a coat of tar and feathers an’ twenty-four hours to git out of this part of the country. We don’t want no rebel a teachin’ our children rebel sentiments.”
“I am sorry, my friends,” said Miller, calmly, “but I shall not quit teaching here unless told to do so by the men that hired me--and neither of you had anything to do with that. I will now go on home. Good evening,” and he walked quietly away.
This action on his part so amazed the ruffians that they stood there, staring after him, with mouths agape. But Hank Sprowl presently recovered from his amazement, and said to his companions sharply: “After him, boys! We mustn’t let him git away. We’ll give him that coat of tar and feathers, that’s what we’ll do. Come with me.”
Then he hastened after Miller, and his three companions hurried to followed him. They soon caught up with the young man, and as he heard their footsteps, and half-turned, as if to speak to them, they leaped upon him and bore him struggling to the ground.
Miller was a rather strong and athletic young man, and he fought with all his strength. But four to one was too big odds, and he was soon overpowered. Then, with his hands tied together behind his back, they hustled Miller to a nearby gully, where a kettle was already suspended above a fire, and in the kettle itself was a lot of tar, bubbling at a great rate. Near at hand was a bag of feathers.
“Ther tar’s cooked good enuff,” said Sprowl. “Take it off and let it cool a little bit. We’ve got ther bird here, an’ we’ll soon put ther feathers onto him.”
“Gentlemen, I protest against any such proceeding,” said Miller, with dignity. “You have no right to do any such thing as that. I demand that you set me free and let me go my way.”
“Ye kin demand, but that’s all ther good et’ll do ye,” grinned Sprowl.
A couple of the ruffians took the kettle off the fire, and set it at one side to cool a few minutes. Then one or two of the others took off Miller’s coat, vest and shirt, and Sprowl ordered them to get to work, which they did, one applying the tar to the teacher’s body with a brush, while others sprinkled on the feathers.
The tar was still too hot for comfort, and Miller writhed and gave utterance to groans expressive of pain, in spite of his efforts to keep from doing so, but the ruffians merely laughed and kept on till they had finished. Then they gave Miller a shove, and told him to go.
“And see to it thet ye are gone from this neighborhood in twenty-four hours!” cried Sprowl. “Ef we ketch ye here, arter that, we’ll give ye somethin’ worse’n tar and feathers. Now git!”
And Miller, glad to escape from such heartless villains, staggered away through the forest, followed by jeering remarks and coarse laughter from the Tories.
Lizzie Santon, the daughter of John Santon, a patriot who lived about halfway between the Tory and the patriot settlements, was out searching for their cow, that had wandered away, and the girl, humming a song, made her way through the timber, looking about her keenly and searchingly.
It was now growing dusk, and the girl hastened her footsteps, for she was a mile from home and still had seen no signs of the sought for animal.
Suddenly she saw a form moving in the woods at a distance of perhaps one hundred yards, and she uttered an exclamation of satisfaction and hastened in that direction.
But when she was within perhaps twenty yards of the approaching object, she saw that it was a human being, but with the upper portion of the body covered with feathers.
“What can that mean?” the girl murmured, stopping and staring in wonder, amazement and horror. “Why, that is terrible! Who would dare treat a human being in that barbarous fashion?”
She stood there a few moments, and then noticing that the tarred and feathered man was walking in a zigzag fashion, as if unable to see, she advanced till close to the person, and then she said:
It was the teacher, of course, and at the sound of the voice he came to a stop and exclaimed, joyously: “Thank goodness I have found somebody. I am Herbert Miller, and some Tories did this, because they believed me to be a patriot.”
“What villains!” exclaimed the girl. “This is terrible, Mr. Miller.”
“Yes, so it is. Is that you, Miss Santon? It sounds like your voice.”
“Yes. Why, can’t you see me?”
“No, they got a lot of the tar in my eyes, and they have swollen shut. I have just been wandering in the woods, feeling my way. Would it be asking too much for you to conduct me to the home of a patriot, where I can get rid of the tar and feathers?”
“Indeed, I shall be only too glad to help you, Mr. Miller. I will guide you to my home, and father will help you get rid of your coat of tar and feathers and will give you some of his clothes to put on. Give me your hand.”
She took hold of Miller’s hand, and they made their way through the timber at a moderate pace, the young man telling the story of the affair in detail as they went.
The girl was profuse in her denunciations of the ruffians who had perpetrated the outrage, and said that they ought to be punished. But as the majority of the people in that vicinity were Tories, it was not likely that the ruffians would be bothered.
When they arrived at Lizzie’s home, Mr. Santon took Miller in hand, and after an hour or so of hard work, got much of the tar and feathers washed off. The young man had been bathing his eyes at the same time, and had gotten them so that he could open them part way and could see, so he now donned shirt, and coat, given him by the patriot settler, and felt much better.
“I’ll be all right now,” he said. “Thanks to you and Lizzie, Mr. Santon.”
“That’s all right. You’re welcome, Mr. Miller. I’ve kind of expected something of this kind, for I knew you were in sympathy with the patriot Cause, and I have heard the Tories say that they didn’t like the idea of having a rebel to teach their children. You kind of took the side of the patriot children, in their squabbles with the Tory children at school, you know, and the Tories didn’t like that.”
“Yes, that is true. Well, I suppose that there would be no use for me to go back to the settlement.”
“I wouldn’t risk it, if I were you. They might take it into their heads to kill you, next time.”
“I think that a good many of the Tories would not approve of what Sprowl and his gang did, but they are in the minority, and I suppose the majority of the families will be glad they did it, and likely, as you say, the ruffians would do worse next time.”
“I fear that I may get you into trouble, Mr. Santon, by staying here at your home,” the young man said.
“I don’t think so,” slowly and thoughtfully. “And likely they don’t know you are here.”
“That is probable. I wandered quite a ways before I came up with your daughter. I don’t suppose any of the ruffians followed.”
“No, likely not. You’re safe here, and I don’t think they will bother me for having you here.”
“I hope not. I think that perhaps it will be well for me to go over to the patriot settlement, to-morrow, however.”
“We’ll see about it, Mr. Miller.”
Supper was ready, presently, and the teacher ate at the table with the family, and repeated his story for the benefit of the other members, there being several children besides Lizzie. Mr. and Mrs. Santon looked very sober and thoughtful, for they lived only about a mile and a half from the Tory settlement, and if the Tories got angry at them, they might make it very disagreeable for them.
After supper the teacher and the members of the Santon family sat in the big sitting-room and talked a while, and then the young man was conducted to an upstairs room by Mr. Santon, and he began making preparations to go to bed.
He had only begun, however, when he heard footsteps on the gravel walk in the yard, and then followed a loud knocking on the door. Following this came in the loud, hoarse voice of Hank Sprowl:
“Open ther door, John Santon, or we’ll kick it down. We know thet ye’re harborin’ that rebel skule-teacher that we tarred and feathered this evenin’, and ye’ve got ter give him up. Ef ye don’t, et’ll be the worse for ye. Open the door!”
With the remembrance still fresh in his mind of the treatment accorded him by the same gang that was now likely at the door, Herbert Miller may be excused for feeling somewhat horror-stricken when he heard the demands given utterance to by the leader of the Tory gang.
He remembered what Mr. Santon had said, and wondered if they had come to kill him, this time.
Slowly the two redcoats approached. Dick looked around him, for some place where he could conceal himself, but did not discover any. He was on the point of turning-and taking refuge in flight when the soldiers suddenly stopped while yet perhaps ten or fifteen yards from him, and stood talking earnestly.
This gave Dick an opportunity, and he at once took advantage of it. He turned and behind the shelter of a fallen log dropped to his hands and knees. He began crawling away now as rapidly as he could and at the same time not make any noise that would be heard by the two redcoats.
Dick was an expert in woodcraft, and he felt that he would be able to get away without being seen, if the redcoats stood there conversing for a sufficient length of time. With this hope in his mind he kept on crawling, and when he was perhaps fifty yards away, he rose cautiously to his feet, keeping a tree between himself and his enemies, and looked back to see what they were doing.
The two were just entering the edge of the forest, but were still engaged in conversation and did not have eyes for anything about them, so Dick fortunately was not in much danger of being seen.
He hastened back to where he had left Tom and Ben, and told them what he had heard. They were eager and excited, and said they were glad that Dick had succeeded in learning the plans of the party of British whom they had chanced upon.
“What are we going to do?” asked Tom. “Shall one of us go back to our encampment and bring a party of soldiers to attack the British?”
“It would be impossible to get a party of our soldiers here before midnight or even later,” determined Dick. “It will be dark in a couple of hours, and then the redcoats will likely go the settlement to plunder and burn the houses.”
“Yes, it must be twenty miles, at least, to our encampment,” admitted Ben.
“Yes,” continued Dick, “and so the only thing for us to do is to go to the settlement as quickly as possible, and warn the patriots.”
“That will be the best plan,” acquiesced Tom. “Let’s start at once, boys.”
“All right. We may lose a little time looking for the settlement, so we had better start now.”
They set out, but made a detour and went around the encampment of the British soldiers, keeping at a distance, so as not to be seen. And when on the other side of the camp, they walked rapidly in the direction that they believed would take them to the patriot settlement.
They searched around more than an hour, and finally caught sight of the houses of the settlement, through a clearing. With exclamations of satisfaction, they hastened forward.
They were not long in reaching the settlement, and going to about the largest house, one of them knocked on the door. The door was opened by a man of middle age, who eyed the youths curiously.
“How are you, sir?” said Dick, while Tom and Ben nodded a greeting. “Is this a patriot settlement?”
The man started. “Why do you ask?” he queried.
“What is the information?” The man looked eagerly at the youths.
“There is a party of British soldiers encamped a couple of miles from here, sir,” said Dick. “We spied on them and overheard them talking, and it is their plan to come here soon after dark, plunder your houses and then set fire to them. We hastened here to tell you the news.”
“And you did well, young men. I thank you, in the name of the people of the settlement. Who are you, and where are you from?”
“My name is Dick Dare, and this is my brother Tom, and this is a comrade, Ben Foster. We have just come down into this part of the country, from New York, with a regiment of patriot soldiers under General Morris. Our camp is about twenty miles from here.”
“Ah, I am indeed glad to hear that there is a patriot force in this part of the country,” said the man. “Since Arnold came here and took command of the British force in Virginia, we have been having a hard time of it. He seems to be extremely bitter, the soldiers and Tories are rough and insolent, and there has been a great deal of plundering and burning of houses recently.”
“I will call the men of the settlement together, and we will decide what to do,” announced the man. “I will have them come here to my house, and you young men may as well remain here. Just step inside and have seats.”
“We will sit here on the steps,” said Dick. “It is pleasant out of doors.”
“Very well,” and the man hastened away.
The youths sat down and waited, and in ten or fifteen minutes there were a dozen men gathered there in front of the house. After greeting the youths, they discussed the matter at issue, and finally decided that the only feasible course was to take some essential household goods and go to a swamp a mile and a half distant. There was a small island in the middle of the swamp, they said, that would furnish them an abiding-place for a while, until the redcoats went away, and as the path leading to the island in the swamp was a narrow and crooked one, they did not think the redcoats could follow it. At any rate they could not do so in the dark.
As soon as this decision had been settled upon, the women were notified, and at once all began work. Even the children helped, and soon all the household goods of much value that could be carried had been brought out, and were gotten into shape for carrying.
Dick, Tom and Ben, of course, had helped, and at Dick’s suggestion some of the children had been stationed out in the forest two or three hundred yards, to keep watch and give warning in case the redcoats should be heard approaching.
The settlers had just finished the work of getting the household goods out of the houses, when the young sentinels came running up and said that they had heard voices, and had seen forms moving amid the trees.
“The redcoats are coming!” said Dick. “You must get away from here quickly. There is no time to lose.”
“You’re right,” said Mr. Williams, the first man the youths had spoken to at the settlement.
This was done, and men, women and children, loaded down with the household effects, staggered through the woods, following the lead of Mr. Williams.
They had gone perhaps a third of a mile when they heard yells from the direction of the settlement, and knew that the redcoats had reached there and found their intended victims missing.
“They will likely follow,” said Dick. “We had better hurry.”
“Yes, we will go as fast as possible,” said Mr. Williams. “It is scarcely a mile to the swamp.”
They hastened onward, and although they listened intently, trying to learn whether they were being followed, they did not hear any sound to indicate that such was the case.
Presently they came to a stop, Mr. Williams having called to them to do so, as the edge of the swamp had been reached. He had brought a torch along, and now at the shut of dark this he lighted. Taking the lead, he guided the party into the swamp, keeping on the narrow, winding path. Without the light it would have been impossible to follow the trail, and to have gotten off into the quagmire at the sides would have been to perhaps lose their lives, for it seemed to have no bottom, the settlers said, being like quicksand.
They had gone about a quarter of a mile, when they heard yells behind them. They realized that the redcoats had followed, and having seen the light, knew where the fugitives were.
“They will light a torch and try to follow us, likely,” said Dick.
“Possibly,” said Mr. Williams. “Well, if they do, we will have to fight them off, for the path, where it connects with the island is very tortuous and narrow. At places not more than two feet wide, and so only a few of them could get at us at a time.”
Presently the fugitives reached the island, and they carried the household goods over to the farther side, where they were placed on the ground, while they sat down to rest. They had hurried and the women and children were tired indeed.
They had been sitting there only a few minutes, however, when suddenly Dick exclaimed “Look yonder! I see a light. The redcoats are coming!”
Sure enough, a light that flickered and bobbed this way and that, in among the trees, could be seen, and it was evident that the redcoats were following the path leading to the island.
“I wonder how large a body of redcoats there is, Dick?” Mr. Williams enquired after a few moments.
“There are about twenty of them, sir,” replied Dick promptly.
“And there are fifteen of us, counting you three young men. I guess we will be able to stand them off.”
“Yes. We will leave the women and children in this sheltered spot. We will go over to near the point where the path connects with the island, and will await the coming of the enemy.”
This was done, and the settlers, rifles in hands, and Dick, Tom and Ben, who had each two pistols, were soon stationed at a vantage point near the end of the path.
Here they crouched, watching the light as it slowly approached, and presently they could make out the forms of the redcoats. They were strung out almost in single file, and were making their way very slowly, for the ground was new to them. But doubtless they had seen swamps before, and knew that it would be bad for them if they were to get off the path and into the quagmire on either side.
Closer and closer they came, and when they were within perhaps twenty yards of the point where the path joined the island, Mr. Williams called out loudly:
The man in the lead, carrying the torch, stopped instantly and the other redcoats followed suit. There was a brief period of silence, and then the man with the torch cried:
“Yes, we’re here,” was the reply.
“You will advance another step at your peril!” interrupted Mr. Williams.
“Eh?” in an amazed voice. “You don’t mean that you will show fight!”
“We certainly will show fight,” was the reply. “The best thing that you can do is to turn around and go back to the mainland.”
“Bosh. What can a little party of you farmers do against a force of the king’s soldiers?”
“We are almost as many as your force, we are all armed, and we know how to shoot.”
“Humph. How many are there of you?”
“Well, there are fifty in our party, so what show do you stand of fighting against us successfully.”
This seemed to surprise the redcoats, and there was silence for a few moments, and then the leader said: “Who informed you to that effect, if I may ask?”
“Well, your informant was mistaken. There are fifty of us, and if you try to show fight, we will kill the whole gang of you.”
“You are only twenty, and we will fight you, and will easily drive you away, too, for the reason that the path is so narrow only a few of you can approach at a time. We can shoot you down as fast as you appear at the edge of the island.”
Again there was a brief period of silence, and then the leader walked back a few paces and held a low conversation with a number of the soldiers. Then he turned and advanced to within about twenty-five yards of the edge of the island, and called out sternly:
“No,” was the reply.
“We are coming onto the island, and if you fire upon us, it will go hard with you.”
“We will certainly fire,” was the determined reply.
“Very well. Your blood be upon your own heads, then.”
Then the leader called to the soldiers, saying: “Follow me, men. And be ready to fire the instant I give the word.”
Perhaps he thought that this command would have the effect of frightening the patriot settlers into not firing, but if so, he was mistaken, for when the first of the party of soldiers was almost to the island, Mr. Williams cried sternly:
“Halt and turn back. If you don’t do so at once, we will fire.”
The soldiers continued to advance, and seeing they did not intend to stop, the patriot settler gave the command:
Instantly the sound of a volley from the dozen rifles and the three pistols sounded on the night air, and it was evident that two or three of the British were at least wounded, for cries of pain and rage went up. One was seen to have fallen, and another was being held up by a couple of his comrades.
“Fire at the rebels, men!” roared the leader of the redcoats, and the British soldiers fired a volley, the bullets rattling above the patriots’ heads, but not doing any damage, as the members of the party had dropped flat on the ground.
Then Mr. Williams called out: “You can’t hurt us, no matter how much you shoot, and we can pick you off quickly. If you will return to the mainland and go about your business, we will not fire upon you again, but if you refuse to go, we will open fire on you, and will kill and wound a number of you.”
Evidently the leader of the party of redcoats realized that, owing to the narrowness of the path, and their inability to rush forward in a body, they could not get at the settlers to do them damage, and that it would be the part of wisdom to do as the settler said, for he called out:
“All right, we will return to the mainland. Don’t fire.”
“Very well,” replied Mr. Williams.
Then the British soldiers slowly made their way back along the path, carrying one of their comrades, and one or two assisting another. When they were out of rifle-shot distance, the leader of the party paused and yelled loudly:
“We will set up a siege at the point where the path reaches the mainland, and you will not be able to come off the island, and as soon as your provisions are exhausted, you will have to surrender.”
Then the redcoats continued their progress toward the mainland.
“If they set up a siege, it will be bad for us,” said Mr. Williams, soberly. “We have only enough food to last say two or three days.” Then they stationed a couple of their number at the end of the path, to give warning in case the redcoats should return during the night, and the others went back and rejoined the women and children and their situation was discussed with considerable seriousness.
“I don’t like the situation,” said Mr. Williams, and the others said the same.
Presently the settlers lay down and as a result of their weariness, they were soon asleep. They felt safe, as there were men on guard at the point where the path reached the island, and knew the British could not reach the island without being seen.
Next morning the subject of what should be done was taken up, and the men discussed the matter thoroughly, but could not come to any decision. Dick Dare and his two comrades had not had much to say, as they considered themselves outsiders, but when the settlers had talked an hour or so and had not come to any decision, Dick, who had been doing considerable thinking, rose and walked along the shore of the island, peering up into the trees that extended away across the swamp. Then he came back, and said to Mr. Williams: “How far is it to the mainland, in that direction,” pointing toward the north. The path by which they had come connected with the island on the east side.
“About a mile, I should judge,” replied Mr. Williams. “Why?”
“I have a plan which I think may work,” was the reply. “I notice that the trees in the swamp are rather close together, and the limbs intermingle. I believe that I can reach the shore by climbing from one treetop to another. What do you think?”
“It might be possible to do that,” was the reply. “An active young fellow like you might do it. If you should happen to fall into the bog, however, it would likely be the last that would ever be heard of you, as it is like quicksand, and sucks its victims down out of sight.”
“Well, I believe I will try it, anyhow. If I can reach the mainland, I can go to the encampment of our army and get some of the soldiers to come and drive the redcoats away, or, better still, capture them.”
“That would be splendid, if you could accomplish it,” said the settler.
“I think it worth trying,” said Dick, confidently. “I am a good climber, and believe that I can make my way from one tree to another, and thus reach the shore.”
“I’ll bet that I could, too,” said Tom, eagerly. “You stay here and let me go, Dick.”
But Dick shook his head. “I am older and stronger than you, Tom,” he said, “and as it will be a hard job working one’s way to the mainland, I prefer to make the attempt. You and Ben will stay here.”
“I’ll start immediately,” determined Dick.
“You had better take some food with you,” suggested Mr. Williams. “You will find your task a hard one and you may have to go two or three miles in order to reach the shore, for you will have to work your way wherever the trees are thickest.”
“True, sir,” said Dick.
He tied up a package of food, and fastened it on his shoulder by a piece of leather string, and then, after talking to Tom and Ben a few moments, he said good-by to all the folks. Stepping to a tree that grew right at the edge of the island, climbed it, till high enough up so that the limbs were of good size and extending to those of another tree out in the swamp, and then he worked his way across into the other tree.
“Good for you,” congratulated Mr. Williams.
“That’s the way to do it, Dick,” cried Tom.
“It is going to be slow work,” replied Dick. “But I think I can reach the mainland by noon, anyway.”
Then Dick managed to get across to another tree still farther away from the island, and here he paused a few moments, to get his breath.
He talked to the settlers on the island while resting, then again began work, and by a strenuous effort succeeded in getting to another tree. From this one he reached another. Here he paused and rested again a few moments, after which he started again, and got into another tree, but one that was no farther from the island, but from that one he could reach another tree that was farther away.
“It’s work that takes muscle,” said Dick, stopping to breathe a few moments. “But thank goodness I have plenty of muscle.”
Then he began work again, and was soon in a tree that stood nearly fifty yards from the island.
Here he paused a few moments, and then set out again. When an hour had passed, he was at least a hundred yards from the island.
“Pretty tired?” called Mr. Williams.
“Oh, not so very,” was the reply. “I’ll get to the mainland, all right.”
“I sincerely hope so,” was the reply.
On went Dick, picking his way along the tree branches, and he gradually worked his way well out into the swamp. Presently he could not see the people on the island at all. And they, not being able to see him, and fearing that their voices might carry to the redcoats on the east shore, if they yelled too loudly, stopped calling to the youth who was working so hard to get to the mainland, in order to go and get the patriot soldiers and effect their rescue.
The work Dick was engaged in was strenuous to say the least. It was very trying to his muscles, but he was strong and had good staying qualities, and he kept at it, pausing once in a while to breathe a few moments and rest his tired muscles.
Slowly he worked his way out, through the tops of the trees, his life in danger, for if he were to slip and fall, he would sink deep into the quagmire, likely, and the chances were that he would be pulled down by the quicksand and smothered to death in the bog.
Dick did not stop to think of this, however. His mind was on his work, and he kept on, gradually shortening the distance to the mainland.
When he had been thus employed perhaps three hours, however, he came to a point from which it seemed impossible to reach another treetop. He paused and stood on a limb and gazed about him, keenly and searchingly. Should he go back and try some other direction?
Finally he decided that by climbing out on a limb that extended upward and outward from the tree he was in, and bending the end down, he might succeed in springing across from that limb to one on the nearest tree.
He at once put this into effect, and climbing up the limb in question till he was near the end, he threw his weight in such a manner that the limb was bent down almost to the breaking point. Still he found himself to be fully three feet from the limb on the other next nearest tree.
Now just by the force from his arms, must he throw his body across that distance, and more, for he must needs grasp the other limb at a point where it was sizable enough to bear his weight. He would make the attempt, anyway, for if he could get across this open space, the trees were close together beyond, and he would not have much difficulty in continuing the trip to the mainland.
So he began swaying his body back and forth, like a pendulum, till he got it swinging at a lively rate, and then he suddenly hurled himself through the air, letting go of the limb at the same moment, and making an effort to grasp the limb on the other tree.
He did get hold of the limb, but at a point too near the end, and the limb, being too small, slipped through his fingers and down he shot, striking the quagmire with a thud, and sinking to his knees.
An exclamation of dismay escaped Dick’s lips. He looked around him, for something to get hold of to stay his sinking into the bog, but there was nothing within reach that he could catch hold of. Not even a clump of bushes was near. He was in an open space perhaps thirty feet square, and there was no tree closer than twenty feet.
Dick then began trying to pull his legs out of the bog, but found he could not do so. The harder he worked, the faster he seemed to sink into the quagmire, and after a few moments of strenuous effort, in which he failed to loosen either limb, but in fact found each leg deeper in the bog, he desisted. His face perspiring profusely, he stood there panting for breath as a result of his strenuous exertions, and gazed about him, hoping to see some means by which he might extricate himself from the dangerous predicament in which he had fallen.
But there was nothing that seemed to offer any promise of assistance, and he began struggling again, only to desist after a few moments, realizing how foolish was the attempt, for every effort he put forth only served to sink him deeper in the boggy quicksand.
Down he sank, slowly and gradually, till he was up to his waist in the relentless and encompassing sands. Then, realizing that he was unable to extricate himself, Dick, because of his utterly helpless situation, gave vent to a despairing cry and called loudly for help.
Again and again he called, but there came no response. All remained quiet around him. There was no sign or likelihood of assistance from any source. And by now he had sunk till he was halfway from his waist to his armpits. He was held as if by giant hands, and he realized that he could not escape without assistance--and help was certainly not forthcoming.
Dick Dare had been in lots of tight places in his life, but never had he been in the danger that threatened him now. He felt that he was doomed, that he would go to a terrible, horrible death, there beneath the smothering slime of the boggy quicksand. He thought of the loved ones at home, of his brother, his comrades, and the great Cause for which he was to offer up his young life. Now he was to be blotted out and no one would ever know the awful nature of his death.
CHAPTER VII—In the Tories’ Hands Again
Herbert Miller, the young schoolteacher, when he heard the demand made by Hank Sprowl, felt that he was in great danger. He realized that the Tories were bad men, and that they might kill him, if they got hold of him again. And as he had a young man’s desire to live, he made up his mind not to let them get hold of him, if possible to avoid the contingency.
The room Miller was in was at the front of the house, and that was the reason he heard the words of the Tory. It was a starlight night, and stepping to the window, the teacher looked out and downward. He saw several dark forms standing before the house. There were six or seven of the scoundrels, Miller decided, and that would be too many for him to try to fight against, even with the assistance of Mr. Santon. Furthermore, as the young man had no wish to get his friends into trouble, he made up his mind that the best thing he could do would be to make his escape.
With this idea in mind, he left the front room, and made his way into a chamber at the rear. Opening the window, he looked out and about. There was no one in sight, so the young man decided that he would be able to leap to the ground and get safely away.
Climbing cautiously over the ledge, he seized hold of the window-sill and lowered himself till he hung suspended at full length. Then he relaxed his hold and dropped. He alighted on his feet all right and unhurt, and turned to leave--when around the corner rushed four of the Tories.
“Here he is!” yelled one. “Grab ’im, men.”
They dashed forward and seized Miller before he could make his escape, and although he fought desperately, he was overpowered. The rest of the gang came rushing around the corner, just as the four had gotten the better of the teacher, and his arms were quickly tied together behind his back.
They conducted him around to the front of the house, and Sprowl calling Mr. Santon to the door gave him a rough talking to. “If ever we ketch ye harborin’ or helpin’ another rebel, John Santon, we’ll drive ye out uv ther country. D’ye hear?” he said in conclusion.
“Yes, I hear,” was the reply. There was an angry look on Mr. Santon’s face, but he did not say much, for he realized that it would not take many words from him to cause the ruffians to seize him and give him a rough handling, the same as they likely intended doing with Miller. He did ask, however, what they proposed doing with the teacher.
“Oh, thet’s our bizness,” was the reply.
“We’re goin’ to try to do enuff, this time, to discourage him frum tryin’ to stay aroun’ in this part of the country, though. Ye may be sure uv thet.”
Then they set out through the woods, Miller in their midst. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Santon,” the teacher called back over his shoulder. “They won’t dare do me serious injury.”
“Oh, won’t we, hey?” growled Sprowl. “Wai, mebby ye’ll change yer mind afore we git through with ye.”
“Oh, father, I’m afraid they’ll kill him!” half-moaned Lizzie, when the group had disappeared amid the trees.
“I don’t hardly think they will dare do that, Lizzie,” was the sober reply. “But I fear they will give him rough treatment.”
“Can’t we prevent it somehow, father?” There was great eagerness in the voice of the girl. It was evident that she was deeply moved. The fact was, that she thought a great deal of Herbert Miller. And he, on his part, thought a great deal of Lizzie Santon.
Mr. Santon shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t, Lizzie,” he said. “There are seven of them.”
“But, we can take our rifles, and follow them, father, and if they go to injure Mr. Miller, we can shoot some of them. I can shoot as good as any man, you know, father.”
Mr. Santon hesitated a few moments, and then said: “Very well, Lizzie. We’ll follow them, and perhaps we may be able to drive them away, if they try to injure Mr. Miller. Let’s hurry, or they’ll get so far away we won’t be able to follow them.”
He seized his rifle, and the girl did the same. With a few words to Mrs. Santon, they left the house, and set out through the timber. But they had gone only about fifty yards, when a rough voice challenged them.
“Stop whar ye are!” called the voice, threateningly. “Ef ye come any furder, we’ll plug ye. Hank said as how mebby ye’d try to foller us, an’ made us stay behin’ to watch fur ye. Now, ef ye value yer lives, ye’ll turn aroun’ an’ go right back ter the house, an’ stay thar. Ye hear?”
“We may as well go back, Lizzie,” said her father. “They’ll shoot us if we try to follow now.”
“Thet’s what we will, Santon. Ye’re talkin’ sense. Git back to ther house, now, an’ stay thar. Ef ye come out ag’in, we’ll shoot furst an’ mebby talk arterwards.”
“Come, Lizzie,” said Mr. Santon, sadly, and they turned and went back to the house.
“Sprowl left a couple of his men to watch and prevent us from following,” explained Mr. Santon to his wife, and Lizzie, with tears of disappointment in her eyes, went up to her room.
In the meantime, Sprowl and four of his companions--he had, as we know, left two men behind to watch Santon’s house--made their way onward till they had gone about two miles, and then they came to a log cabin in a hollow. There was a thick growth of trees and many clumps of bushes all around, which would make it difficult for a chance passerby to see the cabin, even though his path led within a short distance of it.
Here the ruffians stopped, and Sprowl ordered that Miller be stripped to the waist.
“We giv’ ye a coat uv tar an’ feathers, ther other time,” he said, “but this time we’re goin’ to give ye ther blamedest lickin’ ye ever got in your life. Tie ’im to that tree, boys.” The last words to his men, who had already quickly divested the teacher of his clothing, and he stood there, naked to the waist.
“You will be sorry for this, Hank Sprowl!” said Miller. “You had better not commit this outrage.”
“Shut up,” was the brief reply. “Ye’re goin’ ter git a lickin’ ye’ll remember to yer dyin’ day, an’ then ye’ hev twenty-four hours to leave ther country in. Get the switches, men, an’ begin.”
A bundle of switches was produced from the nearby cabin, and a couple of the ruffians took each a heavy switch, several feet in length. Stationing themselves on either side of their intended victim, they lifted the switches and held them poised, waiting for the word from Sprowl to strike.
“Ready?” said Sprowl. “Go ahead. Give ’im a lickin’ thet’ll last ’im a lifetime.”
Herbert Miller set his teeth and waited.
CHAPTER VIII—Tim And Fritz At Work
Soon after Dick, Tom and Ben left the patriot encampment, to go in search of the British army under General Arnold, Tim and Fritz got to discussing the matter, and they decided that they could do some good work in that line also.
“Vy can’t ve go und make un efford to find der retgoads, Tim?” was Fritz’s query.
“Sure an’ there’s no reason why we can’t, Dootchy,” said Tim. “An’ it’s mesilf has a good moind to go an’ ask the captain to let us go an’ look fur the ridcoats.”
“Yah, go und ask him, Tim,” urged Fritz, eagerly. “I vould lige to go on such a trip as dot, und verily dot is so.”
So Tim, thus backed up, asked Captain Morgan to let him and Fritz go in search of the encampment of the redcoats.
“Why, the Dare boys and Ben Foster have just gone to do that,” said the captain.
“Yis, but there is no tellin’ what direction to go to foind the ridcoats, captain,” said Tim, “an’ we can go a different directions an’ mebby will foind the encampment av the inimy before the other byes do.”
“Oh, well, you may go, then,” laughed the captain, “but be careful, and don’t get captured yourself.”
“We’ll be careful, captain, sure an’ we will.”
“Very well.”
Tim thanked the captain, hastened back and reported his success to Fritz, who was delighted. They made prompt preparations, and a few minutes later they set out.
They started in a different direction from that taken by the boys, but Tim and Fritz were not very good at woodcraft, and gradually their course was changed, till finally unwittingly they were following almost in the steps of the three youths. They supposed, agreeable to their proposal, that they were going in an entirely different direction.
Thus it happened that Tim and Fritz came to the top of the ridge, from which the three youths had seen the camp of the party of redcoats, and reaching there about an hour after the youths had left. They stopped to rest, and soon caught sight of the redcoats, in the same manner as the youths had done.
They were greatly excited at once. “Sure an’ we’ve found thim alriddy!” exclaimed Tim.
“Yah, dot is so,” agreed Fritz. “But dere are not many dere, Tim. Dis is not der big encampment.”
“Ye are roight, Fritz. This is a small party thot is out on a foraging expedition, loikely.”
“Ve must sby on dem, Tim, und find ouid vot dey are doin’ here,” said Fritz.
“Roight ye are, me bye. An’ it’s Tim Murphy can do thot worruk, sure an’ it is.”
“Ah righd. You go und do dot vork, Tim. I vill sday here und be ready to gome to your assistance if you ged into drubble, already.”
“Thot’s all roight. Here Oi go, Fritz.”
Then Tim moved slowly and cautiously forward, heading for the encampment of the redcoats.
He was not so skillful at this kind of work as was Dick Dare, but he did pretty well in this instance, and by going very slowly, he managed to get over the ground without making much noise.
Closer and closer crept Tim, and finally he came to a stop behind a tree about fifty yards from the encampment. He could hear what the redcoats said, but they were talking about matters of no particular interest, and Tim did not learn of their intention of plundering and burning the patriot settlement.
Tim saw that there was only a small party of the redcoats, and realizing that this was only a detachment from Arnold’s army, he decided to return to where he had left Fritz, and they would go on their way and try to find the main encampment.
So he turned and slipped back in the direction from which he had come, and when he neared the top of the ridge and looked for his comrade, he greatly to his surprise did not see him. Tim supposed Fritz was seated behind a tree, however, and thought nothing of it, but when he reached the point where he had left the Dutch youth, sure as fate Fritz was not there.
Tim looked all around, in surprise. Nowhere could he see Fritz. Glancing toward the redcoat camp, and deciding that they would not hear him, he sounded a signal that they often used to notify one of the other’s whereabouts.
Then he listened, but did not hear any reply. Again he gave the signal, with the same result.
“Where has Dootchy gone, Oi wondther,” muttered Tim, scratching his head. “Sure, an’ he’s so big thot av he was innywheres aroun’ here Oi ought to be able to see him.”
He looked in all directions, carefully, searchingly, but Fritz was not to be seen, which was very puzzling, and Tim did not understand it at all.
“Thot does bate all,” murmured Tim. “What shall Oi do? Shall Oi stay here, or go in search av him?”
This was a problem, and Tim sat down, the better to figure it out.
He was sitting there, his back against a tree, trying to determine where Fritz could be, when suddenly there was a rustling and scratching sound above him, and then something hit him on the head and shoulders, knocking him to the ground and almost stunning him.
Nevertheless Tim scrambled up hastily, and was greatly amazed to see his comrade, Fritz, lying on his back on the ground a few yards distant, blinking up at the sky as if dazed. An exclamation of anger and amazement escaped the Irish soldier’s lips.
“Fritz, ye Dutch rascal, ye, where did ye drop from, innyhow?” he cried.
Fritz blinked a few more times, and then slowly rose to a sitting posture, looked at Tim, grinned somewhat sheepishly, and then said: “From der dreetop, Tim.”
“Oh, ye fell out av the tree, did ye?” the Irish soldier remarked.
“Yah,” nodded the Dutchman. “I vos glimbin’ down, alretty, an’ my hold slipped und down I fell kerthump.”
“I should say ye did. Ye fell kerthump on top av me head, sure an’ ye did. Why didn’t ye tell me ye was comin’?”
“I didn’t think uf dot, Tim,” was the reply. “Und I’m sorriness dot I bumped you.”
“What was ye doin’ up in the tree?”
“I vos loogin’ around. I thought dot I mighd see der big camp uf der retgoads.”
“Well, did ye?”
Fritz shook his head. “No, I saw only der trees und timber,” he said.
“Well, what shall we do now? Go an’ look for the big camp of the ridcoats?”
“Vot do you say to stayin’ und keepin’ watch on dese retgoads till after dark, Tim?” said Fritz. “Maybe dey vill go to der big engampment, und den ve gan follow dem.”
“Sure an’ thot’s a good oidea, Fritz. We’ll do thot.”
CHAPTER IX—Tim and Fritz
Tim and Fritz settled down and made themselves as comfortable as possible, and waited patiently for the coming of darkness. They trusted that the redcoats would make some kind of move by that time, and they hoped and believed that the move would be in the direction of the main encampment of the British.
The two had brought some food with him, and when evening came, they ate a bite, after which they took turns going down and getting a drink at a little creek at the foot of the ridge.
As soon as dusk overspread the scene, they stole down closer to the encampment, and took up their station behind trees within fifty yards of the redcoats. They could hear the spoken words of the soldiers now, and heard them talking of going to a patriot settlement, of plundering it and burning the houses.
“So thot’s what they are afther doin’, eh?” muttered Tim. “Well, it’s mean spalpanes they are, an’ thot’s a fact.”
“Yah,” replied Fritz, cautiously. “Dot vos been a pretty mean vork vot dey are planning to do, alretty.”
“Let’s slip aroun’ an’ thry to get to the settlement an’ warn the patriots, Fritz,” whispered Tim.
“All righd, ve vill do dot.”
They were just about to start, when the redcoats suddenly broke camp--all they had to do was to pick up their muskets and start--and set out through the woods. Naturally exclamations of disappointment and dismay escaped the lips of the two.
“Dey’re goin’ to der settlement now!” exclaimed Fritz.
“Yis. Well, let’s follow thim. Mebby we can do somethin’ to hilp the patriots.”
“Maybe so, Tim. Ve vill see abouid dot, anyhow.”
So they followed the party of redcoats, keeping about two hundred yards behind them, and after a walk of about a mile and a half, they paused at the edge of a clearing of perhaps a hundred acres, and at the farther side could be seen the houses of the settlers.
What struck Tim and Fritz as queer was the fact that they could not see any lights in any of the houses, and this fact may have been noticed by the redcoats, for they hastened forward at a swifter pace.
“Looks loike there ain’t any people at home, Dootchy,” said Tim.
“Dot is der vay id loogs to me, Tim,” was the reply.
“Oi hope thot is the case.”
“Yah, so do I.”
Feeling that they would be safe in doing so, Tim and Fritz followed the redcoats, though staying farther behind than when they were in the timber, for even in the dusk they were more likely to be seen out here in the open. The redcoats had their attention centered on the cluster of houses, however, and were not likely to look behind them, so the two felt that they probably would not be seen.
They were not more than a hundred yards behind the redcoats when the latter reached the houses. Tim and Fritz stopped and now lay down on the ground, and watched and listened.
They saw lights appear in the houses presently, and heard the voices of the redcoats raised in tones of seeming anger. Tim chuckled and said:
“They seem to be disappointed, Dootchy, me bye.”
“Yah, dot is der vay id seems, Tim,” was the reply.
“Looks loike the settlers found out thot the ridcoats was comin’ an’ slipped away, hey?”
“Yah, dot seems to be der vay uf id.”
“Let’s move up closer, Dootchy.”
“Allrighd.”
They rose to their feet and approached the cluster of houses, and on reaching the nearest one, they peered in at the window. There were two or three redcoats in the room, in which there was little furniture or household goods of any description, and the British soldiers were talking and gesticulating angrily.
“Der settlers moved ouid und took der important goods mit dem,” whispered Fritz.
“So it would seem, Fritz,” was the reply.
Then they went to the next house and looked in, and the scene there was practically the same as at the other house. After looking through the window a few moments, the two went to the next house, and found the same situation there.
“The settlers all got away before the ridcoats got here, an’ they took their valuable goods wid thim,” said Tim.
“Yah, und der retgoads are pretty mad, alretty,” replied Fritz.
“Thot’s what they are, an’ av they lay oyes on us, it’ll go hard wid us, Fritz, me bye.”
“Dot is so. But ve must not let dem see us.”
Just at this moment some redcoats emerged from the house beyond where the two soldiers stood, and they were talking excitedly.
“They’ve gone into the swamp, that’s certain,” the two heard one of the redcoats say. “And we’ll follow them. We’ll have that plunder, in spite of the trick they have played. We’ll follow them into the swamp.”
Tim and Fritz dropped to the ground, close beside the building, and remained there till the redcoats had come forth from the houses and had all set out in a direction which the two supposed led to the swamp, and then they rose and followed.
“We’ll kape afther thim, me bye,” said Tim.
“Yah, ve vill do dot, Tim, und maybe ve gan do somedings to help der settlers, alretty.”
They followed the redcoats to the edge of the swamp, and remained concealed till the British soldiers lighted a torch and set out along the tortuous path into the swamp. Then they sat down, to wait and discuss the situation.
“There’s goin’ to be a foight over in the swamp, Dootchy, an’ we won’t be in it,” said Tim, regretfully.
“Yah,” agreed Fritz. “I vould lige to take a hand in dot fighd, but ve gouldn’t keep on der path in der dark, alretty.”
“No, we’ll have to stay here an’ wait till the ridcoats come back, Oi guiss,” said Tim.
CHAPTER X—To the Rescue
They had been sitting there perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, watching the torch carried by the leader of the British force bobbing about in the swamp, when they suddenly heard voices right near them. The next moment they saw several dark forms making their way through the timber. The two listened to the conversation of the strangers, and learned that they were Tories, on their way to the home of a patriot, one John Santon, who, it seemed, had taken into his home a patriot school-teacher, after the latter had been given a coat of tar and feathers.
The Tories were going to take the teacher out, give him a whipping, and then give him twenty-four hours to get out of that part of the country.
The Tories were walking at a slow pace, and so the two patriots gained the above information before the party was out of hearing.
“Sure, an’ what do ye say to followin’ thim rascals an’ thryin’ to spoil their game, Fritz?” asked Tim.
“I think dot is der thing to do, Tim,” was the reply. “Der retgoads vill not be back here for a long while, und ve can’t do anything to dena when dey do come, for dere are too many uf dem.”
“Roight ye are, an’ mebby we can help the fellow what thim rapscallions are talkin’ av takin’ out an’ whippin’.”
“Mebby so, Tim. Ve vill try id, uf you say so.”
“Well, Oi do say so. Let’s follow thim, me bye.”
So they rose, promptly set out on the trail of the Tories, and were soon close enough to them to hear their conversation. As it was pretty dark, there was not much danger of their being discovered.
When the Tories reached the Santon home, and knocked on the door, Tim and Fritz were close at hand. They listened to the conversation between Santon and the Tories, and when the school-teacher was captured and the Tories started away, with him in their midst, Tim and Fritz moved away through the woods, keeping the party under observation. When they came upon the cabin in the gully, they guessed that this might be the spot the Tories were aiming for. So they stationed themselves behind trees near the end of the cabin, awaiting the approach of the party.
The two patriots watched the Tories, who had lighted a torch, so as to see how to do the work they intended doing. When they saw the ruffians tie their prisoner to a tree, after stripping him to the waist, and one on either side with a heavy switch in his hand, get ready to administer a whipping, Tim and Fritz decided that they would not stand there and be witnesses to such an affair. There were only five of the ruffians, and as the two had each two pistols, they believed they could drive the Tories away.
Tim whispered instructions to Fritz, both drew their pistols, and just as the two ruffians with the switches were about to strike, the patriots fired their pistols.
Both the bullets took effect. The patriots had not tried to kill, but they wanted to wound the Tories, and succeeded. They had aimed at the two who were holding the switches, and at the sound of the reports the two ruffians uttered exclamations of pain and amazement. Dropping the switches, they staggered away from their intended victim.
“Foire ag’in, comrades, an’ thin charge the spalpanes!” cried Tim at this instant, and firing the other two pistols, they succeeded in wounding Sprowl, whose howl of pain was loud and prolonged. Then the ruffians all hastened away, the two that were not injured running swiftly ahead, while the others traveled as fast as they could.
“Afther thim!” yelled Tim, loudly, to add to the fright of the fleeing Tories, but in a low voice to Fritz he said: “Don’t follow thim. We’ve got thim running, an’ so let thim go. We’ll set this poor chap free.”
He stepped to the spot and cut the rope binding Miller to the tree. The teacher was grateful to his new found friends and thanked the two heartily. “You have done me a great kindness,” he said, “and I appreciate it, I assure you. Those ruffians would have given me a terrible beating had you not intervened.”
“They looked capable av doin’ thot, sir,” said Tim.
“Yah, dey vos mean-loogin’ fellers, und dot is so,” said Fritz.
“Yes, those same scoundrels gave me a coat of tar and feathers this afternoon,” continued Miller. “But they were not satisfied with that, it seems, but wanted to give me a beating.”
“Well, we gave thim a little somethin’ to remimber this affair by, Oi’m thinkin’,” chuckled Tim.
“I’m glad you did. And, now, who are you, if I may ask, and where are you from? I don’t think you live in this part of the country.”
“We are soldiers,” said Fritz. “Ve belong mit der army.”
“I didn’t know there was a patriot army in this part of the country,” said Miller.
“We just got here,” explained Tim. “There is a rigimint, an’ it is encamped about twinty miles from here.”
“Ve haf come down here to fighd Arnold,” said Fritz.
“That is good. He has been causing the patriots a lot of trouble since he came down into Virginia.”
“Thot is what we have understood,” said Tim, “An’ we have seen some av their work, already.”
“How is that?” with an air of interest.
“Well, ye know there is a patriot sittlemint a couple av moiles from here, av coorse.”
“Yes. What about it?”
“Why, a party av about twenty ridcoats wint there, this avenin’, intendin’ to rob the sittlers an’ burn the houses, but whin they got there, the sittlers were all gone, an’ had taken their household goods wid thim.”
“Ah, they must have been warned of the approach of the redcoats. I am glad of that.”
“Yis, an’ they wint into a swamp thot is about a moile or so from the sittlemint.”
“Ah, they will likely be safe there.”
“Ve ain’d so sure abouid dot,” said Fritz. “Der retgoads haf followed der settlers into der swamp.”
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Miller. “That is bad.”
“Yis, so it is,” agreed Tim. “Fritz an’ mesilf were goin’ to stay at the place where the path inters the swamp, an’ wait till the ridcoats came out, an’ learn what success they had, but thot party av Tories came past, an’ we heard thim talkin’ about givin’ a rebel school-teacher a whippin’, an’ so, thinkin’ we could mebby do more good by followin’ thim, we did so.”
“And I’m glad you did. But, supposing we go to the point where the path enters the swamp? The redcoats are likely not back out of the swamp yet, and--”
At this moment the sound of musket-shots came to their hearing, and Tim exclaimed “They’re foightin’, now!”
“You are right,” said Miller. “I hope the settlers will be able to drive the redcoats away from the island.”
“Mebby dey vill be able to do dot,” said Fritz.
“Let’s load our pistols and go to the point where the path reaches the mainland,” said Tim. “Oi would loike to be there whin the ridcoats get back.”
“Yes, let’s go at once,” said Miller. “But, if you don’t mind, we will go past the Santon home. It isn’t much out of our way, and I want them to know that I was rescued from the hands of the Tories and was not injured.”
“We’ll have plinty av toime to do thot, an’ thin get to our destination before the ridcoats get there,” said Tim.
So they set out, and presently reached the home of the Santons. The family was still up, and when they saw Miller, free and uninjured, they were delighted. When told that the two patriots, Tim Murphy and Fritz Schmockenburg, had rescued the teacher and driven the Tories away, after wounding three of them, the Santons shook hands with the patriot soldiers and complimented them on their good work.
Then Miller explained about the affair at the patriot settlement, how the patriots were on the island in the swamp, how the redcoats had followed them there, and that the sound of firing had come from that direction, so it was likely that a fight was taking place between the settlers and the redcoats.
“And we are going to the point where the path joins the mainland, so as to be there when the British soldiers return, with the hope that we may be able to learn how the affair came out,” said Miller in conclusion.
“I would go with you, but I think that I had better stay here, for fear those Tories, angry by the treatment these men gave them, might come here to get revenge on me,” said Mr. Santon.
“I would advise that you fasten the doors,” said Miller. “Though the rascals may not bother you.”
“Av they do come, ye foire two or three shots, an’ we’ll get here as quick as possible,” said Tim.
“Yah, ve vill come und shoots der Tories a few more times,” said Fritz.
“Very well, I will fire the signal shots, if the Tories put in an appearance,” said Mr. Santon.
Then the three said good-night and took their departure, promising to return after the redcoats came back out of the swamp and tell the Santons what had taken place on the island.
When the three reached a point near where the path stretched from, the mainland, they found all quiet, and settled down securely hidden to await the return of the enemy. The firing had ceased, and so the fight was either suspended or had ended.
The three were eager to learn whether the patriots had held the redcoats at bay and driven them back, or not, and hoped that such had been the case.
They sat there, talking in low tones, and keeping a sharp lookout toward the interior of the swamp, and presently they caught sight of a light bobbing about in the swamp. The redcoats were returning.
“We’ll soon know how the affair turned out,” said Miller.
“Yah, so ve vill,” said Fritz.
Closer and closer drew the light, and presently the voices of the soldiers could be heard distinctly. Listening eagerly, the three patriots learned that the redcoats had failed in their attempt to reach the island, and that they had been driven back with two or three of their number wounded.
“We had better move further back into the woods,” said Miller.
“Yis, thot will be best,” said Tim.
The three rose and made their way back into the forest a further distance of twenty-five or thirty yards, and took up positions behind trees. Here they stood, waiting, and when the redcoats came onto the mainland, and stopped and settled down, as if to make a camp for the night, the three slipped up nearer, and were enabled to hear the conversation of the British soldiers.
They learned how the redcoats had been driven back with comparative ease by the patriots on the island, owing to the fact that the path was so narrow only two or three of the soldiers could advance at a time. And they learned also that it was the intention of the redcoats to establish a siege and try to starve the patriots into surrendering.
“Sure, an’ the spalpanes are determined to get their han’s on the household goods av’ the patriots,” said Tim in a low voice to Miller, who replied in a whisper that such seemed to be the case.
Then, after a few minutes, the three patriots withdrew to a distance great enough so that their voices could not be heard by the redcoats, and held a council. After due consideration, it was decided that they could do no good by remaining there, and finally Tim was struck with a bright idea, which was that he or Fritz should return to the encampment of the patriot force and get a company of soldiers to come to the rescue of the settlers in the swamp. He wondered why he had not thought of it before.
“Which av us shall go, Fritz?” he asked.
“I vould go,” was the reply, “but you gan go faster as vot I gan, Tim, so mebby you vos better go.”
“All roight, I’ll go,” said Tim. “An’ you two fellows will go to the Santon home, Oi suppose.”
“Yes, we will go there, for to-night, at any rate,” replied Miller. “We could do nothing here, and we might be of assistance to Mr. Santon, if the Tories come back to bother him.”
“Yah, dot is so,” said Fritz.
“All roight. Well, I’ll be goin’. Good-by, me byes.”
They said good-by, and Tim set out through the woods in the direction of the patriot encampment, while Miller and Fritz made their way toward the home of the patriot, John Santon.
Miller and Fritz walked at a moderate pace, and when they drew near the Santon home, they heard the sound of pounding, as of somebody hammering against the door with a club. They hastened forward when they heard this, for they guessed that the Tories had again put in an appearance.
Such proved to be the case, for they heard a gruff voice calling to Santon to come and open the door or it would be broken down, and pistols in hand--Fritz having given one of his to Miller--they advanced till within about ten yards of the Tories, of whom there seemed to be five or six. Then pausing, they leveled their pistols and fired. Immediately afterward they dashed forward, yelling at the top of their voices.
The shots, followed by the yells of the two, coming so unexpectedly, startled the Tories greatly, and with exclamations of amazement and dismay they fled at the top of their speed, disappearing around the corner of the house very quickly.
The two patriots followed to the corner of the house, where they paused, shouting and yelling in the loudest and fiercest voice they could command. Then they listened and heard the brush crackling as the fugitives ran onward at the top of their speed.
“I don’t believe they will come back here again,” said Miller.
“I don’d vos think so, minesellufs,” responded Fritz.
Then they knocked on the door, and Miller called out: “Open the door, Mr. Santon. It is Miller and one of the patriot soldiers that was here a while ago.”
There was a sound of the bar being taken down within, and then the door was opened by Mr. Santon.
“Come in,” invited the patriot. “I’m glad you came just when you did, for those Tories were crying fierce threats, and would likely have handled me roughly, had they got hold of me.”
“Veil, uf dey don’d vos fall und break their necks runnin’ through der timber, id vill be funny,” said Fritz. “I don’d think dey vill be back to bother you again to-night.”
“I hope that you are right,” said the patriot, and then, when they had entered, he shut the door and put the bar in place again.
The other members of the family were still up, and they gave Miller and Fritz a joyous welcome. It was evident that they were glad to see the two, and that they felt much safer with them there.
“Did you learn how the affair at the island in the swamp turned out, Mr. Miller?” asked Lizzie Santon, eagerly.
“Yes,” was the reply. “The patriot settlers succeeded in driving the redcoats away.” And then he told what they had learned by listening to the conversation of the British soldiers after their return from their unsuccessful attempt to reach the island in the swamp.
“Oh, I am so glad to hear that the patriot families are safe!” exclaimed Mrs. Santon.
“Yes, but they are still in danger,” said Miller. And he told how the redcoats were going to keep up a siege. But he also told how Tim Murphy had gone to get a company of patriot soldiers to come and drive the raiders away, and rescue the patriots. He added that he did not have any doubts but that this would be done successfully.
CHAPTER XII—The Pathfinders
Next morning, after breakfast, Fritz Schmockenburg and Herbert Miller said they would go and reconnoiter the enemy’s position, and see what they were doing.
“Be careful,” said Mr. Santon. “Don’t run into any of the enemy’s traps.”
“We will be careful,” said Miller.
“Yah, ve von’t let dem gatch us,” confidently rejoined Fritz.
So they said good-by, took their departure, and in about twenty minutes were close enough to the British to see that all was quiet in the encampment.
The redcoats were sitting around, talking and taking it easy, and did not seem to have any fear of being attacked, for they did not have any sentinels posted. Doubtless they had not yet learned that a patriot regiment was in the vicinity.
“They’re going to stay there and watch the path, and keep the patriot settlers from leaving the swamp,” determined Miller. “Doubtless the settlers have not very much in the way of food supplies with them on the island, and the redcoats figure on starving them out.”
“Yah, dot is der vay uf id, I bet you,” said Fritz.
Miller was silent and thoughtful a few minutes, and then said: “I wonder if there is another path leading to the swamp?”
“Uf der vos, der patriot seddlers could leave der island,” said the Dutch soldier.
“There might be a path reaching almost to the island,” said Miller. “The path might not be seen from the island, and yet might be reached by making a bridge of a fallen tree, and if that were the case, the settlers could escape.”
“Ve mighd loog for der path, alretty,” said Fritz. “Ve haf nothing else to do.”
“All right, that is what we will do, Fritz. Come.”
They moved slowly and cautiously away, and presently reached the edge of the swamp at a point about a half of a mile from the encampment of the British soldiers. The intervening trees and bushes made it impossible for the redcoats to see them.
They then started along the edge of the shore of the swamp, and kept a sharp lookout for any sign of a solid path. They went slowly, so as to be sure and not by any possibility overlook what they were in search of.
On they went, keeping their eyes on the shoreline, and they had gone perhaps a mile further, when they suddenly came to a point where there was a path leading into the swamp.
“Here is a starting point,” called Miller, “but how far it extends into the swamp it is impossible to say.”
“Ve vill soon find ouid,” said Fritz.
“Yes, come along, Fritz. I’ll take the lead, as I am lighter and more active than you.”
“All righd.”
They started into the swamp, and proceeded slowly and cautiously. The path crooked this way and that, winding and twisting about, but gradually extending deeper and deeper into the swamp, and the two felt encouraged to proceed.
“Mebby ve reach der island afder awhile,” said Fritz.
“Yes, I hope that we may be able to do so,” was the reply. “Or at any rate, I hope that we may get close enough so that the intervening space may be bridged over.”
“Yah, dot vould be all righd.”
On they went, slowly and carefully. At some points the path was not more than a foot in width, but so long as they had that much solid ground under their feet they were well pleased.
On and still on into the swamp they went, and when they had penetrated a quarter of a mile, and had stopped a few minutes, to rest and try to figure out the continuation of the path, they suddenly heard a voice calling, it seemed, for help.
“Did you hear that?” exclaimed Miller, in excitement.
“Yah, somebody is lost der schwamp in, alretty,” replied Fritz.
“Right. And likely it is one of the men from the settlers’ party. Possibly one is trying to reach the mainland, and has got as far as he can--or has fallen into the bog; and is in danger of losing his life.”
“Maybe dot is der vay uf id,” said Fritz.
“Let us hurry on,” said Miller. “Perhaps the path we are on will take us close to the poor fellow, and we may be able to render him some assistance.”
“Maybe so,” agreed Fritz. “You lead der vay, Misder Miller, und I vill keep up mit you uf I gan.”
So they hastened onward, moving through the swamp as swiftly as possible, and soon the voice came to them louder and plainer, and Fritz uttered an exclamation:
“I think dot voice sounds lige der voice uf Dick Dare, alretty,” he said.
“Do you think so?” asked Miller.
“Yah, I am sure uf id.”
“Then he has tried to make his way through the swamp and has fallen into the bog, likely, and unless we get to him pretty soon, and render him assistance, he may sink beneath the surface and be smothered to death.”
“Let us hurry, then, Misder Miller. I don’d vos vant Dick to ged choked mit der bog, alretty.”
They hastened onward, making, for Fritz, wonderfully fast progress, and a few minutes later they caught sight of someone up nearly to his arm-pits in the bog. And at sight of him an exclamation escaped the lips of Fritz.
“Id is Dick!” he cried. “Und he is avay down in der bog. Ve must save him, Misder Miller.” Then he lifted up his voice and called out loudly: “Dick! Dick Dare! Here ve are. Ve haf gome to hellup you ouid.”
Dick looked in their direction, and caught sight of them. “Good for you, Fritz, old comrade,” he cried, eagerly. “Hurry and get over here as close as possible, and help me out of this.”
“Ve are goming, Dick,” said Fritz. “Lead on, Misder Miller.”
“I’ll do the best I can.”
Miller advanced as swiftly as he could, following the winding of the path, but suddenly he found that there was no continuation. He had reached the end of the stretch of solid earth. And they were still twenty-five or thirty yards from Dick Dare.
“This is as far as the path extends, Mr. Dare,” said Miller, a disappointed tone to his voice. “What shall we do?”
“I hardly know, stranger,” was the reply.
“If you had a rope to throw to me, you could pull me out; but you have no rope?”
“No. This is a difficult proposition, sure. But we must reach you and get you out of there, somehow.”
“Yes, and you will have to hurry, for I don’t like this situation at all.”
“Have you anything to suggest?” asked Miller.
“The best plan, to my mind, would be to climb from tree to tree, till you reach this one nearest to me, and then perhaps you can break off a limb and reach it down to me.”
“I’ll try that, Mr. Dare.”
CHAPTER XIII—In the Swamp
Miller managed to spring across a boggy place to a tree a few feet distant, and then he climbed up into it. He worked his way out on a limb, and got from that tree to the next one, then on into the next tree, and kept this up till he was in the tree nearest to Dick.
Then he took his knife from his pocket and with great rapidity cut off a limb about the size of his wrist and reached the end down to Dick. He grasped it eagerly and held on tightly, while Miller pulled steadily and strongly.
It was quite a while before the pulling had any perceptible effect and then it was seen that Dick was slowly but surely rising out of the bog.
“I guess you are going to get out, all right, Mr. Dare,” said Miller. “There is lots of suction to that bog, though.”
“Yes. You are gradually pulling me up, and if I can get to that tree, I’ll be all right.”
“I’ll get you there in a few minutes, Mr. Dare.”
Miller kept on pulling till he got Dick out of the bog, and then he worked his way back to the main body of the tree, while Dick worked his way along on the top of the bog, and presently reached the tree. Here he stood, holding to the tree, while he rested for a few minutes, and then he climbed up among the branches, and was soon beside Miller.
“Thank you, very much, stranger,” Dick said. “You have saved my life.”
“I guess that’s so,” was the reply. “But you are welcome, and I am glad to have been able to render you assistance. All the more because you are a friend of Fritz, yonder, so he has told me, and he and his comrade, Tim Murphy, rescued me from a situation almost as unpleasant as the one I have rescued you from.”
“Indeed? I am surprised to see Fritz. I left him at the patriot encampment twenty miles from here, yesterday.”
“Yes. Well, he and his comrade, Tim Murphy, came to this region yesterday and they rescued me from the hands of a party of Tories that were going to give me a whipping with switches. They had already given me a coat of tar and feathers the same afternoon a few hours before.”
“Then of course you are a patriot.”
“Yes. I am the school-teacher at the school about a mile from the Tory settlement, and about two miles from the patriot settlement. But the Tories don’t like me, because I took the part of the patriot children at the school, when the Tory children were running over them, and so they did as I have told you.”
“I suppose you won’t teach school there any more, then?” enquired Dick.
“No. I hardly know what I shall do.”
“Better join the patriot army,” urged Dick.
“I might do that. I’ll think about it anyway.”
Then, Dick having rested sufficiently, in the meantime having gotten his clothing into more presentable and comfortable shape, they began climbing from tree to tree, and presently joined Fritz on the end of the pathway.
“I’m glad to see you safe ouid uf der bog, Dick,” said Fritz, seizing the youth’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “I was afraid dot ve gould not ged you ouid.”
“I’m mighty glad you two happened around just when you did,” said Dick. “But where is Tim?”
“He vent back to der engampment last nighd,” was the reply. “He is going to bring some uf der solchers here to drive der retcoats avay und let der patriot settlers come back out uf der swamp.”
“Hurrah! That is good. The soldiers ought to get here pretty soon, then, if he went last night.”
“Yah, dey vill get here pretty soonness, Dick.”
“Good. Then we will go back to the mainland, and meet them.”
So the three set out, following the path to the shore, and then they made their way in a direction that would lead them around to a point half a mile from the encampment of the redcoats. Here they stopped, and Dick went down to a little stream that flowed through the woods, and washed the remainder of the mud from off his clothes.
Then he took up his position in a sunny spot near his comrades, where his garments would dry off quickly.
They had been there perhaps an hour and a half when they saw the patriot soldiers coming. There were about a company of the soldiers, and at their head with great importance stamped on every line of his freckled Irish face, strode Tim Murphy. As they drew nearer, Dick recognized Captain Morgan and some of the soldiers, and knew that it was his own company that was advancing.
A few minutes later the soldiers reached the spot where Dick, Fritz and Mr. Miller were, and halted. After greetings had been exchanged, the situation of affairs was explained to Captain Morgan, who listened attentively, and said that they would advance cautiously and try to take the redcoats by surprise.
“That will be the best plan, Captain Morgan,” agreed Dick.
Then the party started forward, Dick, Fritz, Tim, Mr. Miller and Captain Morgan scouting in the lead, the soldiers following closely.
Forward they went, slowly, for they were eager to take the redcoats by surprise, and presently they caught sight of the temporary encampment. The British soldiers were sitting about in groups, talking and laughing, and evidently they did not in the least suspect that they were in danger.
But suddenly, as the patriots were looking, a man had seemed to rush into the encampment and say something in an excited manner, and make a gesture toward where the patriot soldiers were. Then the redcoats leaped to their feet and seized their muskets.
“That fellow has warned them!” cried Captain Morgan. “Forward, men. Charge the redcoats!”
CHAPTER XIV—Routed
The patriot soldiers dashed forward, running rapidly through the heavy underbrush that intervened, and when they were in range, they were halted suddenly, at a command from the captain, who promptly ordered them to fire a volley.
The redcoats, seeing that a very considerably stronger force than their own was coming, had leaped behind trees, shielding themselves as best they could, so that the volley fired by the patriot soldiers did not do a great deal of damage, wounding a few, but not killing any.
The British soldiers then returned the fire, but the patriot soldiers, upon order of the Captain were crouching low, so that only one or two received slight flesh wounds, but no serious harm was done.
Again the captain yelled for the patriot soldiers to charge, and they did so, dashing forward at the top of their speed. At this the redcoats turned and fled at the top of their speed, evidently deciding that it would not be practicable for them to try to stand their ground.
After them went the patriots, firing their pistols and yelling loudly, and the redcoats ran as they probably had never run before. The patriot soldiers followed them perhaps a quarter of a mile, and then, not wishing to waste effort or ammunition, at a command from the captain, they stopped.
Returning now to the point where the raiders had been encamped, Dick Dare said that he would go to the island in the swamp and tell the patriot settlers that they could now come back to their homes, as the enemy had been driven away.
“I’ll tell you what I would prefer you would do, Dick,” said the captain. “I wish you would follow that party of redcoats. They will likely return to their main encampment, and by following them you will be enabled to learn where Arnold’s force is. Somebody else can go to the island and carry the news to the settlers.”
“True. Very well, Captain Morgan. I will go on the trail of the British soldiers, and as soon as I have located their encampment, I will return and bring you the information.”
“Good, Dick. That will please me, for I want to get after that traitor, Arnold.”
So Dick hastened away, through the forest, following the course taken by the redcoats. He went swiftly, for he wanted to get his eyes on the escaping soldiers, when he would have no great difficulty in keeping them under surveillance.
On he hastened, and about half an hour later he caught sight of the red uniforms of the soldiers bobbing about between the trees in front of him.
“There they are,” murmured Dick, slackening his pace. “Good. Now I can follow them without much trouble.”
The party continued on southward till they were nearly to the James River, and then they turned toward the east, and went in that direction several miles. Coming to an open spot on the top of a knoll, when they were at a distance of perhaps ten miles from the encampment by the swamp, that they had recently quitted so hurriedly, they again went into camp.
Dick stopped and from a position behind a tree, watched them with a feeling of disappointment. “They don’t seem to have any intention of going to the main encampment, yet awhile, anyhow,” he murmured. “Well, I will stay here and keep watch on them, and perhaps later on they will go to the British camp.”
The redcoats remained where they were, and when finally noon came, they ate some food that they carried in knap-sacks, and this made Dick feel hungry. He had come away in such a hurry that he had not thought of food.
He was determined not to lose sight of the British soldiers, however, so he stuck to his post, and waited for them to continue their journey.
About the middle of the afternoon Dick heard the sound of voices from behind him, and turned around quickly--to see Tom and Ben coming through the timber!
“Well, if there don’t come the boys!” he murmured. “Now, I will have company, anyhow.”
Fearing that the redcoats up on the top of the knoll might hear the voices of the youths, or catch sight of them, Dick hastened to meet the two, and when they discovered him, he made a cautioning gesture to which they gave heed for they stopped and waited for him to join them.
“Have you found the encampment of Arnold, Dick?” asked Tom, eagerly.
“No,” was the reply. “The party of redcoats that we chased away have stopped here and gone into camp. I’m waiting for them to continue their journey.”
“Well, I’m glad we caught up with you and we have brought you rations.”
“Which is most welcome news.”
They settled down behind a clump of bushes, and took it easy while Dick filled, in some degree, the empty void within him. They could peep through between the bushes and see the redcoats on the knoll; and Tom and Ben now told Dick that Tim and Fritz had come to the island and brought the news that the patriot soldiers were there and had driven the redcoats away.
“The patriot settlers came back to the mainland and went to their homes again,” said Tom. “And the soldiers are encamped at the settlement, where they will stay till we get back with the news of the whereabouts of Arnold’s main encampment.”
“That is good,” said Dick.
“Yes,” said Ben. “What luck did you have, Dick, climbing through the tops of the trees?”
Dick then told them of his experience in the bog, and how Fritz and Herbert Miller had come to his rescue, just when he had begun to think he would perish in the bog.
“It was lucky that they happened to find that path and were trying to reach the island,” said Tom.
“Yes, it was my only salvation. There was near to being an end to Dick Dare.”
Slowly the time rolled away, and evening came, with the redcoats still encamped on the top of the knoll. As soon as it was dark, Dick crept up close to the encampment, and after listening a while, succeeded in hearing enough of the conversation of the soldiers to learn that it was their intention to remain there all night.
Dick made his way back to where Tom and Ben were and told them the news. “Such being the case,” he said, “we don’t need to stay right here and keep watch on the camp all the time. We will go and find a settler’s home and get something to eat.”
“That’s the idea,” said Tom. “I am beginning to feel pretty hungry.”
“I could enjoy a bite, myself,” said Ben.
“Come, then,” said Dick. “We’ll see if we can find a place where we can get something to eat.”
He set out through the woodland with Tom and Ben close beside him. They traveled thus for perhaps half an hour, during which time darkness overtook them, then they suddenly caught sight of lights, through between the trees.
“There’s a little settlement!” exclaimed Tom.
“Yes, and there’s something going on at one of the houses,” said Ben. “See, that house near the center is lighted up more than the others, and I hear music.”
“Sounds like a violin,” said Tom. “Likely they are having a party there.”
The youths were soon close to the house in question, and saw that there were a number of young people, young men and girls, in the front room, dancing to the music from a violin.
“A dance!” exclaimed Tom. “Let’s go in, boys, and enjoy ourselves a while.”
The other two willingly agreed. It was not often that they had found opportunity for amusement, so advancing to the door, Dick knocked.
CHAPTER XV—At the Dance
The door was opened, presently, and a woman of middle age stood on the threshold.
“Good evening, ma’am,” said Dick, bowing. “Myself and comrades would like to get something to eat, if you have any food to spare. We will pay for the food.”
“Come right in,” was the cordial reply. “There is plenty of food in the house and you will be welcome to all you can eat. Come in.”
The youths entered, and the woman led the way to the kitchen, along a hall, past the room in which the young people were dancing. Here she invited the youths to be seated, and began placing food on a table.
“You don’t belong in these parts, do you?” she asked, looking with some show of curiosity at the youths.
“No, ma’am,” replied Dick. And then he asked, somewhat hesitatingly: “Is this--are the people around here, loyal to the king, or are they inclined to be patriotic?”
The woman looked at Dick rather sharply, and then after hesitating slightly, she said: “Well, I don’t know just what to say, young man. You see, General Arnold has an army of British soldiers about twenty miles from here, and some of his soldiers have even come this far and done some plunderin’ of patriot settlers, and--well, mebby it wouldn’t be best to say whether we are patriots or Tories. I don’t know whether you are patriots or not, either,” with another searching glance.
Dick shrewdly guessed, from her words and actions, that she was a patriot, and so he said: “We are patriots, ma’am, so you needn’t be afraid to say you are a patriot.”
“I’m glad of that,” with a relieved air. “What are your names, and where do you live?”
Dick told her their names, and said that they were soldiers, belonging with a regiment of patriot soldiers that was in that part of the country, having come there recently from the North.
“Well, I’m glad there is a patriot army in this part of the country too,” said the woman. “Maybe they will be able to put a stop to the plundering and burning of the homes of the patriot settlers around here.”
“I think that we shall be able to do so,” said Dick.
The food was on the table by this time, and the three youths needed no further invitation to move up their chairs and to eat heartily of the good things provided. The woman stood near, waiting on them, and talking eagerly. She asked many questions about the patriot army, and asked if the youths thought the patriot people of America would win their independence. And Dick told her he thought they would. “Washington is a great general,” said Dick, “and I believe he will bring about the defeat of the British before many months have passed.”
“I hope so,” said the woman.
While the youths were eating, a pretty girl of perhaps seventeen or eighteen years entered the room, and she looked surprised when she saw the three strangers. The woman motioned to her to come nearer, and then she said to the youths: “This is my daughter, Sally Hart. Sally, these young men are Dick and Tom Dare and Ben Foster.” She indicated each as she spoke their names, and the girl bowed to each, and the youths saluted in return.
“They are patriot soldiers, Sally,” said the woman. “They belong with a patriot army that has just come down here from the North, and now Arnold and his redcoats will have to be careful or they will get into trouble.”
“I am glad of that,” said Sally, smiling. “And I am glad to make the acquaintance of you young men.”
The youths assured her that the pleasure was mutual, and then she asked a few questions about the patriot army, after which she invited the three to spend the evening there and take part in the dancing.
“We shall be very glad to have you stay,” she said. “Most all that are here are patriots, so they will be glad to make your acquaintance. Stay and dance, and later on we will have a big supper.”
“I don’t feel as if I would want any more food to-night,” said Dick, smiling. “And indeed I feel almost too full to move. But perhaps a little later I shall be able to dance a little.”
“Oh, you will be able to eat another supper by the time it is ready,” said Sally, smiling.
“Well, perhaps so. Thank you for the kind invitation, Miss Hart.”
“It will be a pleasure for us to have you spend the evening with us,” said the girl. “When you are ready, we will go into the other room, and I will introduce you to the young folks.”
The youths soon finished eating, and were ready to accompany the girl, and as soon as they were in the other room, where they were quickly the objects of surprised scrutiny from all present, Sally introduced them, and explained briefly how they happened to be present.
They were given a cordial welcome by the young people, the girls bowing to them, and the youths stepping up and shaking hands with them in a hearty manner.
Dick, Tom and Ben were feeling quite at home in a few minutes, and when the musician struck up a tune on his violin a few minutes later, they were ready to dance, having invited a partner from among their new friends. They were quickly out on the floor, taking part in the dancing.
Dick and Sally at the outset were partners. He found her a good dancer, and a pleasant companion as well. They talked and laughed as they whirled about the room, and were soon very well acquainted indeed.
The three patriot youths danced every set after that, and enjoyed themselves hugely, but when they had been there an hour or so, there came an interruption: The front door was suddenly thrown open and into the room strode ten British soldiers.
“What’s going on here?” cried one, who wore the uniform of a sergeant. “You young people seem to be enjoying yourselves greatly, and that’s a fact.”
Dick, Tom and Ben were naturally somewhat dismayed, for they thought possibly the British soldiers had seen them as they were coming away from the vicinity of their encampment, and had followed with the intention of capturing them.
As the redcoats did not take any particular notice of the three, however, they decided that they were mistaken in their supposition, and that the British soldiers had just happened in at the settlement, the same as had been the case with them. Dick, Tom and Ben had on citizen’s clothing, so there was nothing to make the redcoats suspect them of being patriot soldiers. Doubtless the British intruders supposed the three to be residents of the settlement, the same as the other youths present. Having come to this conclusion the three patriot youths breathed more freely, and the feeling of dismay left them.
The soldiers insisted that they liked to dance, and so the music was started up again, and soon the dance was going merrily on, with the redcoats almost monopolizing the floor. The next set, however, only five of the redcoats danced, the others looking on, and Dick, who was dancing, saw one of the youths, Ralph Hicks, whisper something to the sergeant, after which the two left the room together. Dick’s suspicions were aroused at once, for Sally had given Dick to understand that Hicks was her “fellow,” as she put it. As Dick had danced with Sally several times, and had seen Hicks regarding him with a jealous frown on his face, the youth reached the conclusion that Hicks was going to tell the sergeant that there were three patriot soldiers in the house. Sally had stated that Hicks was the son of a loyalist, and this made Dick all the more suspicious. He would not stop dancing, however, for he thought it possible he might be mistaken in his suspicions, and he did not want to let the redcoats suspect that he feared capture.
He made up his mind to warn Tom and Ben, however, but just as the set was finished and Dick was leading his partner to a seat, Hicks and the sergeant reentered. The officer hastened to whisper something to each of the redcoats, and as Dick turned away, after seating his partner, he found himself confronted by the sergeant and another soldier, each with a pistol leveled at his head. A brief glance toward Tom and Ben showed Dick that they were threatened in the same manner.
“Surrender, you rebel!” cried the sergeant. “We arrest you, Dick Dare, in the name of the king!”
CHAPTER XVI—The Bottle of Cider
The girls uttered cries of fear and ran into the other room. The young men stood their ground, but made no move to interfere. Doubtless they sympathized with the three youths--with the exception of Ralph Hicks--but did not feel like trying to fight ten British soldiers, for the sake of the three almost strangers.
Dick Dare realized that it would be foolish to try to resist or attempt an escape. The redcoats were within arm’s-length of them, armed with pistols, and to try to get away would be to get bullets in their bodies before they were out of the room.
So he said: “We surrender. Don’t shoot,” and the sergeant nodded and said:
“That’s sensible. Turn your backs to us and place your hands behind you.”
The patriot youths obeyed, and the redcoats quickly bound their wrists with cord that was brought to them by Mr. Hart, the man of the house, at their command. It was easy to see that he did not like this, but the redcoats were strong enough so that they could do as they wished, and protest would avail nothing.
The three prisoners were placed in the kitchen, in one corner, and the sergeant confronted them, saying: “So you rebels are down here from the North with an army, are you?”
“Yes,” replied Dick, quietly.
“What do you think you are going to do?”
“We are going to make it warm for Arnold and his troops,” said Dick.
The sergeant smiled sarcastically. “I don’t think you will have much to do with it,” he said. “You are going with us to our camp, when we leave here, and to-morrow we will rejoin the main army, and Arnold will likely string you up to a tree, as I have heard him speak of you as being a rebel spy.”
“You haven’t got us to this encampment yet,” said Dick, calmly.
“Bah. How came you to be here to-night?”
“That is our business.”
“You won’t answer, eh?”
“No.”
“All right. It don’t make any difference, anyway. We’ve got you, now, so you can’t do whatever you had the intention of doing. I judge that likely you were searching for Arnold’s encampment.”
“Oh, possibly.”
“Well, you won’t have to search any longer. We’ll see that you get there, to-morrow--and that you stay a while, my fine young rebel.”
“Thanks,” said Dick, sarcastically.
Then the sergeant placed a redcoat on guard, to see that the prisoners made no attempt to escape, after which he returned to the front room, and the dancing was started up again, and went on with seeming merriment. But the fact was, that the young people were not enjoying themselves as much as had been the case before the advent of the redcoats.
Sally Hart was a bright, shrewd girl. She had noted the fact that Ralph Hicks and the sergeant had left the room together a while before the three patriot youths were made prisoners, and she guessed that Hicks had told the sergeant that the three youths were patriot soldiers. She summoned Hicks to her side, and whispered to him that she wanted him to come out of doors with her, that she had something to say to him privately, and he followed her out.
When they were a short distance from the house, Sally turned and said, somewhat sternly: “Ralph, why did you tell that sergeant that the Dare Boys and Ben Foster were patriot soldiers, and cause them to be made prisoners?”
“I--why, Sally, I didn’t--”
“Ralph Hicks, you know you did tell him!” interrupted Sally. “And, now, why did you do it?”
“Well, Sally,” was the reply, in a desperate tone, “if you must know, I did it because you--because, well, you seemed to like Dick Dare, that’s why. You danced with him four or five times, and I didn’t get to dance with you once.”
“So that is the reason!” There was anger and scorn in the girl’s voice. “I danced with Dick Dare several times because he is a good dancer, and because he is a stranger, and our guest. And you had to go and get jealous and hand him over to the redcoats. Ralph Hicks, I have a good mind to never speak to you again!”
“I’m sorry, Sally,” said Hicks. “I--well, I was kind of mad at Dick Dare, and--and, yes, jealous of him. I wish you were not angry with me, Sally.”
“I am angry, Ralph,” was the grim reply. “And there is just one way that you can get me over my angry feeling toward you.”
“How is that, Sally?” eagerly.
“By securing the freedom of Dick and Tom Dare and Ben Foster.”
Hicks was silent a few moments, and then said: “I can’t do that, Sally. The redcoats have the three prisoners, and how could I get them out of their hands?”
“I don’t know, that’s your problem, but if you want me to ever speak to you, after to-night, you must get those three young men free. You were the cause of their being made prisoners, and it is your place to rescue them.”
“But, how will I do it, Sally?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure.”
“If you will help me,” said Hicks, presently, after a period of pondering, “perhaps I might manage it.”
“What could I do?”
“I’ll tell you. You have some mighty fine cider in the cellar, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ll get a bottle of the cider, and will be out here with it, and you tell the soldier that is guarding the prisoners that if he will step out of doors, I will give him some cider. And when he comes out, you cut the ropes and free the prisoners, and they can rush out, knock the redcoat over and make their escape.”
“But, won’t the redcoat wonder why the cider isn’t brought into the room and given to him there?”
“Tell him there is only one bottle, and that the other soldiers would want some of it, too, if they saw him drinking.”
“Very well,” said Sally, after a few moments of silence, “we will try that plan. Go down into the cellar and get a bottle of the cider.”
“And--Sally.”
“Well?”
“If we succeed in setting the prisoners free, you’ll--you won’t be angry with me, will you?”
“I’ll see about it, Ralph. Now, go and get the cider.”
Hicks said, “All right,” and then lifted the cellar-door and made his way down into the cellar. He got a bottle of the cider, and when he got back up, and had closed the cellar-door, the redcoat was just emerging from the kitchen.
“Here,” said Hicks, his voice trembling slightly. “Here is the cider.”
“All right, young man, and thank you,” said the redcoat. He stepped to Hicks’ side, and took the bottle, and placed it to his mouth.
A few moments later the door of the kitchen opened again, and Dick and Tom Dare and Ben Foster leaped forth. The redcoat heard them and started to turn around, but Dick Dare, who was in the lead, sprang upon the British soldier with all his force, and the redcoat was hurled sprawling to the earth, the bottle flying from his hand.
The red coat was hurled sprawling.