The Little Red Foot

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XXVI

  ORDERS

  In June I was out o' bed and managed to set foot on ground for the firsttime since early spring. By the end of the month I had my strength in ameasure and was able to hobble about town. Pernicious rheumatism is nolight matter, for with the agony,--and weakness afterward,--a dulldespair settles upon the victim; and it was mind, not body, that causedme the deeper distress, I think.

  Life seemed useless; effort hopeless. Dark apprehensions obsessed me; Idespaired of my country, of my people, of myself. And this all was partof my malady, but I did not know it.

  All through June and July an oppressive summer heat brooded over Tryon.Save for thunder storms of unusual violence, the heat remained unbrokenday and night. In the hot and blinding blue of heaven, a fierce sunblazed; at night the very moon looked sickly with the heat.

  Never had I heard so many various voices of the night, nor so noisy atumult after dark, where the hylas trilled an almost deafening chorusand the big frogs' stringy croaking never ceased, and a myriad confusionof insects chirred and creaked and hummed in the suffocating dark.

  At dawn the birds' outburst was like the loud outrush of a torrentfilling the waking world; at twilight scores of unseen whippoorwills puton their shoes[30] and shouted in whistling whisper voices to oneanother across the wastes of night like the False Faces [31] gatheringat a secret tryst.

  [Footnote 30: Indian lore. The yellow moccasin flower is thewhippoorwill's shoe.]

  [Footnote 31: A secret society common to all nations of the IroquoisConfederacy.]

  If the whole Northland languished, drooping and drowsy in the heat, thevery air, too, seemed heavy with the foreboding gloom of dreadfulrumours.

  Every day came ominous tidings from North, from West, from South ofgreat forces uniting to march hither and crush us. And the terribleimminence of catastrophe, far from arousing and nerving us for thedesperate event, seemed rather to confuse and daze our people, andfinally to stupefy all, as though the horror of the immense and hellishmenace were beyond human comprehension.

  Men laboured on the meagre defences of the county as though weighted bya nightmare--as though drowsing awake and not believing in their ghostlydream.

  And all preparation went slow--fearfully slow--and it was like dragginga mass of chained men, whose minds had been drugged, to drive themilitia to the drill ground or force the labourers to the unfinishedparapets of our few and scattered forts.

  Men still talked of the Sacandaga Block House as though there were sucha refuge; but there was none unless they meant the ruins at Fish Houseor the unburned sheep-fold at Summer House Point, or the Mayfielddefenses.

  There remained only one fort of consequence south of the Lakes--FortStanwix, now called Schuyler, and that was far from finished, far fromproperly armed, garrisoned, and provisioned.

  Whatever else of defense Tryon County possessed were merestmakeshifts--stone farmhouses fortified by ditch, stockade, and bastions;block-houses of wood; nothing more.

  Fragments of our two regular regiments were ever shifting garrison--acompany here, a battalion there. A few rangers kept the field; aregiment of Herkimer's militia, from time to time, took its turn atduty; a scout or two of irregulars and Oneida Indians haunted the trailtoward Buck Island--which some call Deer Island, and others speak of asCarleton Island, and others still name it Ile-aux-Chevreuil, which is amistake.

  But any name for the damned spot was good enough for me, who had beenthere in years past, and knew how strong it could be made to defy us andto send out armed hordes to harass us on the Mohawk.

  And at that instant, under Colonel Barry St. Leger, the Western flyingforce of the enemy was being marshalled at Buck Island.

  Our scouts brought an account of the forces already there--detachmentsof the 8th British regulars, the 34th regulars, the regiment of SirJohn, called the Royal New Yorkers by some, by others theGreens--(though our scouts told us that their new uniforms were to bescarlet)--the Corps of Chasseurs, a regiment of green-coats known asButler's Rangers, a detachment of Royal Artillery, another ofHighlanders, and, most sinister of all, Brant's Iroquois underThayendanegea himself and a number of young officers of the IndianDepartment, with Colonel Claus to advise them.

  This was the flying force that threatened us from the West, directed byBurgoyne.

  From the South we were menaced by the splendid and powerful British armywhich held New York City, Long Island, and the lower Hudson, and stoodready and equipped to march on a straight road right into Albany,cleaning up the Hudson, shore and stream, on their way hither.

  But our most terrible danger threatened us from the North, where GeneralBurgoyne, with a superb army and a half thousand Iroquois savages, hadbeen smashing his way toward us through the forests, seizing the lakesand the vessels and forts defending them, outmanoeuvring our GeneralSt. Clair; driving him from our fortress of Ticonderoga with loss of allstores and baggage; driving Francis out of Skenesborough and Fort Anne,and destroying both posts; chasing St. Clair out of Castleton andHubbardton, destroying two-thirds of Warner's army; driving Schuyler'sundisciplined militia from Fort Edward, toward Saratoga.

  Every day brought rumours or positive news of disasters in our immediateneighbourhood. We knew that St. Leger, Sir John, Walter Butler, andBrant had left Buck Island and that Burgoyne was directing the campaignplanned for the most hated army that ever invaded the Northland. And welearned the horrid details of these movements from Thomas Spencer, theOneida who had just come in from that region, and whose certain accountof how matters were swiftly coming to a crisis at last seemed togalvanize our people into action.

  I was now, in August, well enough to take the field with a scout, and Iapplied for active duty and was promised it; but no orders came, and Ihaunted the Johnstown Fort impatiently, certain that every man who rodeexpress and who went galloping through the town must bring my marchingorders.

  Precious days succeeded one another; I fretted, fumed, sickened withanxiety, deemed myself forgotten or perhaps disdained.

  Then I had a shock when General Herkimer, ignoring me, sent for mySaguenay, but for what purpose I knew not, only that old Block'sloud-voiced son-in-law, Colonel Cox, desired a Montagnais tracker.

  The Yellow Leaf came to me with the courier, one Barent Westerfelt, whohad brought presents from Colonel Cox; and I had no discretion in thematter, nor would have exercised any if I had.

  "Brother," said I, taking him by both hands, "go freely with thismessenger from General Herkimer; because if you were not sorely neededour brother Corlear had not ordered an express to find and fetch you."

  He replied that he made nothing of the presents sent him, but desired toremain with me. I patiently pointed out to him that I was merely asubaltern in the State Rangers and unattached, and that I must await myturn of duty like a good soldier, nor feel aggrieved if fortune calledothers first.

  Still he seemed reluctant, and would not go, and scowled at the expressrider and his sack of gew-gaws.

  "Brother," said I, "would you shame me who, as you say, found you a wildbeast and have taught you that you are a real man?"

  "I am a man and a warrior," he said quickly.

  "Real men and warriors are known by their actions, my younger brother.When there is war they shine their hatchets. When the call comes, theybound into the war-trail. Brother, the call has come! Hiero!"

  The Montagnais straightened his body and threw back his narrow,dangerous head.

  "Haih!" he said. "I hear my brother's voice coming to me through theforests! Very far away beyond the mountains I hear the panther-cry ofthe Mengwe! My axe is bright! I am in my paint. Koue! I go!"

  * * * * *

  He left within the hour; and I had become attached to the wild rover ofthe Saguenay, and missed him the more, perhaps, because of my own soreheart which beat so impotently within my idle body.

  That Herkimer had taken him disconcerted and discouraged me; but therewas a more bitter blow in store for a young s
oldier of no experience indiscipline or in the slow habit of military procedure; for, judge of mywrath when one rainy day in August comes Nick Stoner to me in a newuniform of the line, saying that Colonel Livingston's regiment lackedmusicians, and he had thought it best to transfer and to 'list and notlet opportunity go a-glimmering.

  "My God, Jack," says he, "you can not blame me very well, for my fatheris drafted to the same regiment, and my brother John is a drummer in it.It is a marching regiment and certain to fight, for there be threeLivingstons commanding of it, and who knows what old Herkimer can dowith his militia, or what the militia themselves can do?"

  "You are perfectly right, Nick," said I in a mortified voice. "I am notenvious; no! only it wounds me to feel I am so utterly forgotten, and myapplication for transfer unnoticed."

  Nick took leave of us that night, sobered not at all by the imminence ofbattle, for he danced around my chamber in Burke's Inn, a-playing uponhis fife and capering so that Penelope was like to suffocate withlaughter, though inclined to seriousness.

  We supped all together in my chamber as we had so often gathered atSummer House, but if I were inclined to gloomy brooding, and if Penelopeseemed concerned at parting with a comrade, Nick permitted no sadreflexions to disturb us whom he was leaving behind.

  He made us drink a very devilish flip-cup, which he had devised in thetap-room below with Jimmy Burke's aid, and which filled our youngnoddles with a gaiety not natural.

  He sang and offered toasts, and played on his fife and capered until wewere breathless with mirth.

  Also, he took from his new knapsack a penny broadside,--witty, but likemost broadsides of the kind, somewhat broad,--which he had forthrippence of a pedlar, the same being a parody on the DanburyBroadside; and this he read aloud to us, bursting with laughter, whilestanding upon his chair at table to recite it:

  THE EXPEDITION TO JOHNSTOWN[32]

  (In search of provisions)

  Scene--New York City

  (_Enter_ General Sir Wm. Howe and Mrs. ----, preceded byFame in cap and bells, flourishing a bladder.)

  _Fame_ (speaks)

  "Without wit, without wisdom, half stupid, half drunk, And rolling along arm-in-arm with his Punk, Comes gallant Sir William, the warrior (by proxy) To harangue his soldiers (held up by his Doxy)!"

  _Sir Wm._ (speaks)

  "My boys, I'm a-going to send you to Tryon, To Johnstown, where _you'll_ get as groggy as I am! By a Tory from there I have just been informed That there's nobody there, so the town shall be stormed! For if nobody's there and nobody near it, My army shall conquer that town, never fear it!"

  (_Enter_ Joe Gallopaway, a refugee Tory)

  _Joe_

  "Brave soldiers, go fight that we all may get rich!"

  _Regular Soldiers_

  "We'll fetch you a halter, you * * * * ! Get out! And go live in the woods upon nuts, Or we'll give you our bayonets plump in your guts! Do you think we are fighting to feed such a crew As Butler, Sir John, Mr. Singler and you?"

  (_Enter_ Sir John Johnson)

  _Sir John_

  "Come on, my brave boys! Now! as bold as a lion! And march at my heels to the County called Tryon; My lads, there's no danger, for this you should know, That I'd let it alone if I thought it was so! So point all your noses towards the Dominion And we'll all live like lords is my honest opinion!"

  Scene--Buck Island Trail

  (_Enter_ Fame, Sir John, and his Royal Greens)

  _Fame_

  "In cunning and canting, deceit and disguise, In breaking parole by inventing cheap lies, Sir John is a match for the worst of his species, But in this undertaking he'll soon go to pieces. He'll fall to the rear, for he'd rather go last, Crying, 'Forward, my boys! Let me see you all past! For his Majesty's service (so reads my commission) Requires I push forward the whole expedition!"

  _Sir John_

  "I care not a louse for the United States,-- For General Schuyler or General Gates! March forward, my lads, and account for each sinner, While Butler, St. Leger, and I go to dinner. For plenty's in Tryon of eating and drinking, Who'd stay in New York to be starving and stinking." March over the Mohawk! March over, march over, You'll live like a parcel of hogs in sweet clover!"

  Scene--Outside Fort Stanwix

  (A council of war. At a distance the new American flag flying above thebastions)

  _Sir John_

  "I'm sorry I'm here, for I'm horribly scared, But how did I know that they'd all be prepared? The fate of our forray looks darker and darker, The state of our larder grows starker and starker, I fear that a round-shot or one of their carkers[33] May breech my new breeches like poor Peter Parker's![34] Oh, say, if my rear is uncovered, what then!--"

  (_Enter_ Walter Butler in a panic)

  _Butler_

  "Held! Schuyler is coming with ten thousand men!"

  (A canon shot from the Fort)

  _Sir John_ (falls flat)

  "I'm done! A cannon ball of thirty pound Has hit me where Sir Peter got his wound. I'm done! I'm all undone! So don't unbutt'n'm; But say adieu for me to Clairette Putnam!"[35]

  (_Enter_ a swarm of surgeons)

  _Surgeons_

  "Compose yourself, good sir--forget your fright; We promise you you are not slain outright. The wound you got is not so mortal deep But bleeding, cupping, patience, rest, and sleep, With blisters, clysters, physic, air and diet Will set you up again if you'll be quiet!"

  _Sir John_

  "So thick, so fast the balls and bullets flew, Some hit me here, some there, some thro' and thro', Beneath my legs a score of hosses fell, Shot under me by twice as many shell; And though my soldiers falter and beseech, Forward I strode, defiant to the breech, And there, as History my valour teaches, I fell as Caesar fell, and lost--my breeches! His face lay in his toga, in defeat, So let me hide my face within my seat, My requiem the rebel cannons roar, My duty done, my bottom very sore. Tell Willett he may keep his flour and pork, For I am going back to dear New York."

  (Exit on a litter to the Rogue's March)

  [Footnote 32: 32 parallel to _The Expedition to Danbury_, printed in aPennsylvania newspaper, May 14th, 1777.]

  [Footnote 33: Carkers--carcass--a shell fired from a small piece ofartillery.]

  [Footnote 34: Sir Peter Parker's breeches were carried away by a roundshot at Fort Moultrie.]

  [Footnote 35: His charming but abandoned mistress.]

  "If we fight at Stanwix," says Penelope, "God send the business end asgaily as your broadside, Nick!"

  And so, amid laughter, our last evening together came to an end, and itwas time to part.

  Nick gave Penelope a hearty smack, grinned broadly at me, seized myhands and whispered: "What did I tell you of the Scotch girl ofCaughnawaga, who hath a way with her which is the undoing of allinnocent young men?"

  "Idiot!" said I fiercely, "I am not undone in such a manner!" Like twobear-cubs we clutched and wrestled; then he hugged me, laughed, andbroke away.

  "Farewell, comrades," he cried, snatching sack and musket from thecorner. "If I can not fife the red-coats into hell to the Rogue's March,or my brother John drum them there to the Devil's tattoo, then my daddyshall persuade 'em thither with musket-music! Three stout Stoners andthree lanky Livingstons, and all in the same regiment! Hurrah!"

  And off and down the tavern stairs he ran, clattering and clanking, andshouting out a fond good-bye to Burke, who had forgiven him the goat.

  Standing in the candle-light by the window, where a million rainwashedstars twinkled in the depthless ocean of the night, I rested my browagainst the cool, glazed pane, lost in most bitter reflexion.

  Penelope had gone to her chamber; behind me the dishevelled table stood,bearing the candles and the debris of our last supper; a nosegay ofbright flowers--Nick's parting token--lay on the floor, w
here they hadfallen from Penelope's bosom.

  After a while I left the window and sat down, taking my head between myhands; and I had been sitting so for some time in ugly, sullen mood,when a noise caused me to look up.

  Penelope stood by the door, her yellow hair about her face andshoulders, and still combing of it while her brown eyes regarded me withan odd intentness.

  "Your light still blazed from your window," she said. "I had somemisgiving that you sat here brooding all alone."

  I felt my face flush, for it had deeply humiliated me that she shouldknow how I was offered no employment while others had been called orpermitted to seek relief from inglorious idleness.

  She flung the bright banner of her hair over her right shoulder,caressed the thick and shining tresses, and so continued combing, stillwatching me, her head a little on one side.

  "All know you to be faithful, diligent and brave," said she. "You shouldnot let it chafe your pride because others are called to duty before youare summoned. Often it chances that Merit paces the ante-chamber whileMediocrity is granted audience. But Opportunity redresses suchaccidents."

  "Opportunity," I repeated sneeringly, "--where is she?--for I have notseen or heard of that soft-footed jade who, they say, comes a-knockingonce in a life-time; and thereafter knocks at our door no more."

  "Oh, John Drogue--John Drogue," said she in her strange and wistful way,"you shall hear the clear summons on your door very soon--all too soonfor one of us,--for one of us, John Drogue."

  Her brown eyes were on me, unabashed; by touch she was dividing theyellow masses of her hair into two equal parts. And now she slowlybraided each to peg them for the night beneath her ruffled cap.

  When she had braided and pegged her hair, she took the night-cap fromher apron pocket and drew it over her golden head, tying the tabs underher chin.

  "It is strange," she said with her wistful smile, "that, though theworld is ending, we needs must waste in sleep a portion of what timeremains to us.... And so I am for bed, John Drogue.... Lest that sametapping-jade come to your door tonight and waken me, also, with her loudknocking."

  "Why do you say so? Have you news?"

  "Did I not once foresee a battle in the North? And men in strangeuniforms?"

  "Yes," said I, smiling away the disappointment of a vague and momentaryhope.

  "I think that battle will happen very soon," she said gravely.

  "You said that I should be there,--with that pale shadow in its shroud.Very well; only that I be given employment and live to see at least onebattle, I care not whether I meet my weird in its winding-sheet. Becauseany man of spirit, and not a mouse, had rather meet his end that waythan sink into dissolution in aged and toothless idleness."

  "If you were not a very young and untried soldier," said she, "you wouldnot permit impatience to ravage you and sour you as it does. And for me,too, it saddens and spoils our last few days together."

  "Our last few days? You speak with a certainty--an authority----"

  "I know the summons is coming very soon."

  "If I could but believe in your Scottish second-sight----"

  "Would you be happy?"

  "Happy! I should deem myself the most fortunate man on earth!--if Icould believe your Scottish prophecy!"

  She came nearer, and her eyes seemed depthless dusky in her pale face.

  "If that is all you require for happiness, John Drogue," said she in herlow, still voice, "then you may take your pleasure of it. I tell you I_know_! And we have but few hours left together, you and I."

  Spite of common sense and disbelief in superstitions I could not remainentirely unconcerned before such perfect sincerity, though that shebelieved in her own strange gift could scarcely convince me.

  "Come," said I smilingly, "it may be so. At all events, you cheer me,Penelope, and your kindness heartens me.... Forgive my sullentemper;--it is hard for a man to think himself ignored and perhapsdespised. And my ears ache with listening for that same gentle tappingupon my door."

  "I hear it now," she said under her breath.

  "I hear nothing."

  "Alas, no! Yet, that soft-footed maid is knocking on your door.... Ifonly you had heart to hear."

  "One does not hear with one's heart," said I, smiling, and stirred toplague her for her mixed metaphor.

  "I do," said she, faintly.

  After a little silence she turned to go; and I followed, scarce knowingwhy; and took her hand in the doorway.

  "Little prophetess," said I, "who promises me what my heart desires,will you touch your lips to mine as a pledge that your prophecy shallcome true?"

  She looked back over her shoulder, and remained so, her cheek on herright shoulder.

  "Your heart desires a battle, John Drogue; your idle vanity my lips....But you may possess them if you will."

  "I do love you dearly, Penelope Grant."

  She said with a breathless little smile:

  "Would you love me better if my prophecy came true this very night?"

  But I was troubled at that, and had no mind to sound those unventureddeeps which, at such moments, I could feel vaguely astir within me. Noryet did I seriously consider what I truly desired of this slender maidwithin the circle of my arms, nor what was to come of such suddenencounters with their swift smile and oddly halting breath and theheart, surprised, rhyming rapidly and unevenly in a reckless measurewhich pleasured less than it embarrassed.

  She loosed her hands and drew away from me, and leaned against the wall,not looking toward me.

  "I think," she said in a stifled voice, "you are to have your wish thisnight.... Do you hear anything?"

  In the intense stillness, straining my ears, I fancied presently that Iheard a distant sound in the night. But if it had been so it died out,and the beat of my heart was louder. Then, of a sudden, I seemed to hearit again, and thought it was my pulses startled by sudden hope.

  "What is that sound?" I whispered. "Do you hear it?"

  "Aye."

  "I hear it also.... Is it imagination? Is there a horse on the highway?Why, I tell you there is!... There _is_! Do you think he rides express?"

  "Out o' the North, my lord," she whispered. And suddenly she turned,gave me a blind look, stretched out one hand.

  "_Why_ do you think that horseman comes for me!" I said. My imaginationcaught fire, flamed, and I stood shivering and crushing her fingers inmy grasp. "Why--why--do you think so?" I stammered. "He's turned intoWilliam Street! He gallops this way! Damnation! He heads toward theHall!--No! _No!_ By God, he is in our street, galloping--galloping----"

  Like a pistol shot came a far cry in the darkness: "Express-ho! I pass!I pass!" The racket of iron-shod hoofs echoed in the street; doors andwindows flew open; a confusion of voices filled my ears; the rattlingroar of the hoofs came to a clashing halt.

  "Jimmy Burke's Tavern!" shouted a hoarse voice.

  "Ye're there, me gay galloper!" came Burke's bantering voice. "An'phwat's afther ye that ye ride the night like a banshee? Is it Sir Johnthat's chasin' ye crazy, Jock Gallopaway?"

  "Ah-h," retorted the express, "fetch a drink for me and tell me is therea Mr. Drogue lodging here? Hey? Upstairs? Well, wait a minute----"

  I still had Penelope's hand in mine as in the grip of a vise, so excitedwas I, when the express came stamping up the stairs in his jack-bootsand pistols--a light-horseman of the Albany troop, who seemed smartenough in his mud-splashed helmet and uniform.

  "You are Mr. Drogue, sir?"

  "I am."

  He promptly saluted, fished out a letter from his sack and offered it.

  In my joy I gave him five shillings in hard money, and then, draggingPenelope by the hand, hastened to break the numerous and heavy seals andopen my letter and read it by the candle's yellow flare.

  "Headquarters Northern Dist: Dept: of Tryon County. Albany, N. Y. August 1st, 1777.

  _Confidential_ "To John Drogue, Esqr, Lieut: Rangers.

  Sir,

  "A
n Oneida runner arrived today, who gives an account that Genl St. Leger, with the corps of Sir John Johnson and Colonel John Butler, including a thousand savages under Joseph Brant, has been detached from the army of Genl Burgoyne, and is marching on Fort Schuyler.

  "You are directed to take the field instantly with a scout of Oneida Indians, who await you at a rendezvous marked upon the secret map which I enclose herewith.

  "You will cross the Buck Island trail somewhere between Rocky River and the Mohawk, and observe St. Leger's line of communications, cutting off such small posts as prove not too strong, taking prisoners if possible, and ascertaining St. Leger's ultimate objective, which may be Johnstown or even Schenectady.

  "Having satisfied yourself concerning these matters, you will send your despatch by a runner to Albany, and instantly move your detachment toward Saratoga, where you should come into touch with our Northern forces under General Gates, and there render a verbal report to General Gates in person.

  "You are strictly cautioned to destroy this letter after reading, and to maintain absolute secrecy concerning its contents. The map you may retain, but if you are taken you should endeavour to destroy it.

  "Sir, I have the honour to be, etc., etc.,

  "Ph. Schuyler, "Maj: Gen'l."

  Twice I read the letter before I twisted it to a torch and burned it inthe candle flame.

  Then I called out to the express: "Say to the personage who sent youhither that his letter is destroyed, and his orders shall be instantlyobeyed. Burke has fresh horses for those who ride express."

  Off downstairs he went in his jack-boots, equipments jingling andclanking, and I unfolded my map but scarce could hold it steady in myexcitement.

  Immediately I perceived that I did not need the map to find therendezvous, for, as Brent-Meester, I had known that wilderness asperfectly as I knew the streets in Johnstown.

  So I made another torch of the map, laughing under my breath to thinkthat Sir William's late forest warden should require such an article.

  All this time, too, I had forgotten Penelope; and turned, now, and sawher watching me, slim and motionless and white as snow.

  When her eyes met mine she strove to smile, asking me whether indeed shehad not proven a true prophetess.

  As she spoke, suddenly a great fear possessed me concerning her; and Istood staring at her in a terrible perplexity.

  For now there seemed to be nothing for it but to leave her here, theSchenectady road already being unsafe, or so considered by Schuyleruntil more certain information could be obtained.

  "Do you leave tonight?" she asked calmly.

  "Yes, immediately."

  She cast a glance at my rifle standing in the corner, and at my pack,which I had always ready in the event of such sudden summons.

  Now I went over to the corner where my baggage lay, lifted the pack andstrapped it; put on powder horn, bullet pouch, and sack, slung my knifeand my light war-hatchet, and took my cap and rifle.

  The moment of parting was here. It scared and confused me, so swiftlyhad it come upon us.

  As I went toward her she turned and walked to the door, and leanedagainst the frame awaiting me.

  "If trouble comes," I muttered, "the fort is strong.... But I wish toGod you were in Albany."

  "I shall do well enough here.... Will you come again to Johnstown?"

  "Yes. Good-bye."

  "Good-bye, John Drogue."

  "Will you care for Kaya?"

  "Yes."

  "And if I do not return you are to have all with which I die possessed.I have written it."

  "In that event I keep only my memory of you. The rest I offer to theneedy--in your name."

  Her voice was steady, and her hand, too, where it lay passive in mine.But it crisped and caught my fingers convulsively when I kissed her; andcrept up along my fringed sleeve to my shoulder-cape, and grasped thegreen thrums.

  And now her arm lay tightly around my neck, and I looked down into thewhitest face I ever had gazed upon.

  "I love you dearly," I said, "and am deep in love.... I want you,Penelope Grant."

  "I want you," she said.

  My heart was suffocating me:

  "Shall we exchange vows?" I managed to say.

  "What vows, sir?"

  "Such as engage our honour. I want you to wife, Penelope Grant."

  "Dear lad! What are you saying? You should travel widely and at leisurebefore you commit your honour to an unconsidered vow. I desire that youfirst see great cities, other countries, other women--of your owncaste.... And then ... if you return ... and are still of the samemind ... concerning me...."

  "But _you_? There are other men in the world. And I must have your vowsbefore I go!"

  "Oh, if it be only mine you desire, then I promise you, John Drogue, tolook at no man with kindness in your absence, think of no man exceptingyou, pray for none save only His Excellency and General Schuyler, dreamof none, God willing, but you. And to remain in deed and thought andword and conduct constant and faithful to you alone."

  "Then," said I, trembling, "I also promise----"

  "No!"

  "But I----"

  "Wait! For God's sake mind what you say; for I will not have it thatyour honour should ever summon you hither and not your heart! No! Let beas it is."

  Her sudden warmth and the quick flush of determination on her facechecked and silenced me.

  She said very coolly: "Any person of sense must know that a marriage isunsuitable between a servant to Douw Fonda and John Murray Drogue_Forbes_, Laird of Northesk, and a Stormont to boot!"

  "Where got you that _Forbes_?" I demanded, astonished and angry.

  She laughed. "Because I know the clan, _my lord_!"

  "How do you know?" I repeated, astounded.

  "Because it is my own clan and name. Drogue-Forbes, Grant-Forbes!--aclaymore or a pair of scissors can snip the link when some Glencoe orCulloden of adversity scatters families to the four winds and sevenseas.... Well, sir, as the saying is in Northesk, 'a Drogue stops atnothing but a Forbes. And a Grant is as stubborn.' Did you ever hearthat?"

  "Yes.... And _you_ are a Forbes of Northesk?"

  "Like yourself, sir, we _stop before a liaison_."

  Her rapier wit confused and amazed me; her sudden revelation of ourkinship confounded me.

  "Good God," said I, "why have you never told me this, Penelope?"

  She shook her yellow head defiantly: "A would na," quoth she, her chinhanging down, but the brown eyes of her watching me. "And it was aservant-maid you asked to wife you, and none other either.... D'ye kenthat, you Stormont lad? It was me--me!--who may wear the _Beadlaidh_,too!--me who can cry '_Lonach! Lonach! Creag Ealachaidh!_' with as stouta heart and clean a pride as you, Ian Drogue, Laird o' Northesk!--lairdo' my soul and heart--my lord--my dear, dear lord----"

  She flung her arms across her face and burst into a fit of weeping; andas I caught her in my arms she leaned so on my breast, sobbing out herhappiness and fears and pride and love, and her gratitude to God that Ishould have loved her for herself in the body of a maid-servant, andthat I had bespoken her fairly where in all the land no man had offeredmore than that which she might take from him out of his left hand.

  So, for a long while, we stood there together, clasped breast to breast,dumb with tenderness and mazed in the spell of first young love.

  I stammered my vows, and she now opposed me nothing, only clinging to methe closer, confident, submissive, acquiescent in all I wished and askedand said.

  There were ink, paper, a quill, and sand in her chamber. We wentthither, and I wrote out drafts upon Schenectady, and composed lettersof assurance and recognition, which would be useful to her in case ofnecessity.

  I got Jimmy Burke out o' bed and shewed him all I had writ, and made himwitness our signatures and engaged him to appear if necessary.

  These papers and money drafts, together with Penelope's pa
pers andletters she had of Douw Fonda and of the Patroon, were sufficient toestablish her with the new will I made and had witnessed at the fort aweek before.

  And so, at midnight, in her little chamber at Burke's Inn, I parted fromPenelope Grant,--dropped to my knee and kissed her feet, who had beenservant to the county gentry and courted by the county quality, but hadbeen mistress of none in all the world excepting only of herself.

  * * * * *

  When I was ready she handed me my rifle, buckled up my shoulder sack,smoothed my fringed cape with steady hands, walked with me to herchamber door.

  Her face rested an instant against mine, but there were no tears, notrembling, only the swift passion of her lips; and then--"God be withyou, John Drogue!" And so, with gay courage, closed her chamber door.

  I turned and stumbled out along the corridor, carrying my rifle andfeeling my way to the hand-rail, down the creaking stairway, and outinto the starry night.