The Little Red Foot

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XXX

  A LONG GOOD-BYE

  On the evening of the 15th of August, the Commandant of Johnstown Fortstood aghast to see a forest-running ragamuffin and three scare-crowIndians stagger into headquarters at the jail.

  "Gad a-mercy!" says he as I offered the salute, "is it _you_, Mr.Drogue!"

  I was past all speech; for we had wolf-jogged all the way up from theriver, but from my rags I fished out my filthy papers and thrust them athim. He was kind enough to ask me to sit; I nodded a like permission tomy Oneidas and dropped onto a settle; a sergeant fetched new-bakedbread, meat, buttermilk, and pipes for my Indians; and for me a draughtof summer cider, which presently I swallowed to the dregs when I foundstrength to do it.

  This refreshed me. I asked permission to lodge my Oneidas in someconvenient barn and to draw for them food, pay, tobacco, and clothing;and very soon a corporal of Continentals arrived with a lantern and ledthe Oneidas out into the night.

  Then, at the Commandant's request, I gave a verbal account of my scout,and reminded him of my instructions, which were to report at Saratoga.

  But he merely shuffled my papers together and smiled, saying that hewould attend to that matter, and that there were new orders latelyarrived for me, and a sheaf of letters, among which two had been sent inwith a flag, and seals broken.

  "Sir," he said, still smiling in kindly fashion, "I have every reason tobelieve that patriotic service faithfully performed is not to remain toolong unrecognized at Albany. And this business of yours amounts to that,Mr. Drogue."

  He laughed and rubbed his powerful hands together, peeringgood-humouredly at me out of a pair of small and piercing eyes.

  "However," he added, "all this is for you to learn from others in higherplaces than I occupy. Here are your letters, Mr. Drogue."

  He laid his hand on a sheaf which lay near his elbow on the table andhanded them to me. They were tied together with tape which had beensealed.

  "Sir," said he, "you are in a woeful plight for lack of sleep; and Ishould not detain you. You lodge, I think, at Burke's Tavern. Pray, sir,retire to your quarters at your convenience, and dispose of well-earnedleisure as best suits you."

  He rose, and I got stiffly to my feet.

  "Your Indians shall have every consideration," said he. "And I dareguess, sir, that you are destined to discover at the Tavern news thatshould pleasure you."

  We saluted; I thanked him for his kind usage, and took my leave, soweary that I scarce knew what I was about.

  How I arrived at the Tavern without falling asleep on my two legs as Iwalked, I do not know. Jimmy Burke, who had come out with a light togreet me, lifted his hands to heaven at sight of me.

  "John Drogue! Is it yourself, avic? Ochone, the poor lad! Wirra theday!" says he,--"and luk at him in his rags and thin as a clapperrail!"And, "Magda! Betty!" he shouts, "f'r the sake o' the saints, run fetch awash-tub above, an' b'ilin' wather in a can, and soft-soap, too, an'a-bite-an'-a-sup, or himself will die on me two hands----"

  I heard maids running as I climbed the stairway, gripping at the rail tosteady me. I was asleep in my chair when some one shook me.

  Blindly I pulled the dirty rags from my body and let them fall anywhere;and I near died o' drowning in the great steaming tub, for twice I fellasleep in the bath. I know not who pulled me out. I do not remembereating. They say I did eat. Nor can I recollect how, at last, I got meinto bed.

  I was still deeply asleep when Burke awoke me. He had a great bowl ofsmoking soupaan and a pitcher of sweet milk; and I ate and drank, stillhalf asleep. But now the breeze from the open window and the sunshine inmy room slowly cleared my battered senses. I began to remember where Iwas, and to look about the room.

  Mine was the only bed; and there was nobody lying in it save onlymyself, yet it was evident that another gentleman shared this room withme; for yonder, on a ladder-back chair, lay somebody's clothing neatlyfolded,--a Continental officer's uniform, on which I perceived theinsignia of a staff-captain.

  Spurred boots also stood there, and a smartly cocked hat.

  And now, on a peg in the wall, I discovered this unknown officer'swatch-coat, and his sword dangling by it, and a brace o' pistols.

  But where the devil the owner of these implements might be I could notguess.

  And now my eyes fell upon the sheaf of letters lying on the table besideme. I broke the sealed tape that bound them; they fell upon the bedclothes; and I picked up the first at hazard, which was a packet, andbroke the seal of it. And sat there in my night shift, utterly astoundedat what I beheld.

  For within the packet were two papers. One was a captain's commission inthe Continental Line; and my own name was writ upon it.

  And the other paper was a letter, sent express from the Forest of Dean,five days since, and it was from Major General Lord Stirling to me,acquainting me that he had taken the liberty to request a captain'scommission in the Line for me; that His Excellency had concurred in therequest; that a commission had been duly granted and issued; andthat--His Excellency still graciously concurring and General Schuylerendorsing the request--I had been transferred from the State Rangers tothe Line, and from the Line to the military family of General LordStirling. And should report to him at the Forest of Dean.

  To this elegant and formal and amazing letter, writ by a secretary andsigned by my Lord Stirling, was appended in his own familiar hand thispostscript:

  "Jack Drogue will not refuse his old friend, Billy Alexander. So forGod's sake leave your rifle-shirt and moccasins in Johnstown and put onthe clothing which I have bespoken of the same Johnstown tailoress whomade your forest dress and mine when in happier days we hunted andfished with Sir William in the pleasant forests of Fonda's Bush."

  I sat there quite overcome, gazing now upon my commission, now upon myfriend's kind letter, now at my beautiful new uniform which hisconsideration had procured for me while I was wandering leagues away inthe Northern bush, never dreaming that a celebrated Major General hadtime to waste on any thought concerning me.

  There was a bell-rope near my bed, and now I pulled it, and said to thebuxom wench who came that I desired a barber to trim me instantly, andthat the pot-boy should run and fetch him and bid him bring his ironsand powder and an assortment of queue ribbons for a club.

  The barber arrived as I, having bathed me, was dressing in freshunderwear which I found rolled snug in the pack I had left here when Iwent away.

  Lord, but my beard and hair were like Orson's; and I gave myself to therazor with great content; and later to the shears, bidding young MasterSnips shape my pol for a club and powder in the most fashionable andmilitary mode then acceptable to the service.

  Which he swore he knew how to accomplish; so I took my letters from thebed and disposed myself in a chair to peruse them while Snips shouldremain busy with his shears.

  The first letter I unsealed was from Nick Stoner, and written fromSaratoga:

  "FRIEND JACK,

  "I take quill and ink to acquaint you how it goes with us here in the regiment.

  "I am fifer, and when in action am stationed near to the colours for duty. Damn them, they should give me a gun, also, as I can shoot better than any of 'em, as you know.

  "My brother John is a drummer in our regiment, and has learned all his flamms and how to beat all things lively save the devil.

  "My father is a private in our regiment, which is pleasant for all, and he is a dead shot and afeard of nothing save hell.

  "I have got into mischief and been punished on several occasions. I like not being triced up between two halbards.

  "I long to see Betsy Browse. She hath a pretty way of kissing. And sometimes I long to see Anne Mason, who has her own way, too. You are not acquainted with that saucy baggage, I think. But she lives only two miles from where my Betsy abides. And I warrant you I was put to it, sparking both, lest they discover I drove double harness. And there was Zuyler's pretty daughte
r, too--but enough of tender memories!

  "Anna has raven hair and jet black eyes and is snowy otherwise. I don't mean cold. Angelica Zuyler is fair of hair but brown for the rest----

  "Well, Jack, I think on you every day and hope you do well with your Oneidas, who, we hear, are out with you on the Schoharie.

  "Our headquarters runner is your old Saguenay, and he is much trusted by our General, they say. Sometimes the fierce fellow comes to visit me, but asks only for news of you, and when I say I have none he sits in silence. And always, when he leaves, he says very solemnly: 'Tell my Captain that I am a real man. But did not know it until my Captain told me so.'

  "Now the news is that Burgoyne finds himself in a pickle since the bloody battle at Oriskany. I think he flounders like a big chain-pike stranded belly-deep in a shallow pool which is slowly drying up around him.

  "We are no longer afeard of his Germans, his General Baum-Boom, his famous artillery, or his Indians.

  "What the Tryon County lads did to St. Leger we shall surely do to that big braggart, John Burgoyne. And mean to do it presently.

  "I send this letter to you by Adam Helmer, who goes this day to Schenectady, riding express.

  "I give you my hand and heart. I hope Penelope is well.

  "And beg permission to remain, sir, your most humble and obliged and obedient servant,

  "NICHOLAS STONER."

  I laid aside Nick's letter, half smiling, half sad, at the thoughts itevoked within me.

  Young Master Snips was now a-drying of my hair. I opened another letter,which bore the inscription, 'By flag.' It had been unsealed, which, ofcourse, was the rule, and so approved and delivered to me:

  "DEAR JACK,

  "I am fearfully unhappy. This day news is brought of the action at Oriska, and that my dear brother is dead.

  "I pray you, if it be within your power, to give my poor Stephen decent burial. He was your boyhood friend. Ah, God, what an unnatural strife is this that sets friend against friend, brother against brother, father against son!

  "Can you not picture my wretchedness and distress to know that my darling brother is slain, that my husband is at this moment facing the terrible rifle-fire of your infuriated soldiery, that many of my intimate friends are dead or wounded at this terrible Oriskany where they say your maddened soldiers flung aside their muskets and leaped upon our Greens and Rangers with knife and hatchet, and tore their very souls out with naked hands.

  "I pray that you were not involved in that horrible affair. I pray that you may live through these fearful times to the end, whatever that end shall be. God alone knows.

  "I thank you for your generous forbearance and chivalry to us on the Oneida Road. I saw your painted Oneida Indians crouching in the roadside weeds, although I did not tell you that I had discovered them. But I was terrified for my baby. You have heard how Iroquois Indians sometimes conduct.

  "Dear Jack, I can not find in my heart any unkind thought of you. I trust you think of me as kindly.

  "And so I ask you, if it be within your power, to give my poor brother decent burial. And mark the grave so that one day, please God, we may remove his mangled remains to a friendlier place than Tryon has proven for me and mine.

  "I am, dear Jack, with unalterable affection,

  "Your unhappy,

  "POLLY."

  My eyes were misty as I laid the letter aside, resolving to do all Icould to carry out Lady Johnson's desires. For not until long afterwarddid I hear that Steve Watts had survived his terrible wounds and wasfinally safe from the vengeance of outraged Tryon.

  Another letter, also with broken seal, I laid open and read while Snipsheated his irons and gazed out of the breezy window, where, with fifeand drum, I could hear the garrison marching out for exercise andpractice.

  And to the lively marching music of _The Huron_, I read my letter fromClaudia Swift:

  "Oneida; Aug: 7th, 1777.

  "MY DEAREST JACK,

  "I am informed that I may venture to send this epistle under a flag that goes out today. No doubt but some Yankee Paul Pry in blue-and-buff will crack the seal and read it before you receive it.

  "But I snap my fingers at him. I care not. I am bold to say that I do love you. And dearly! So much for Master Pry!

  "But, alas, my friend, now indeed I am put to it; for I must confess to you a sadder and deeper anxiety. For if I love you, sir, I am otherwise in love. And with another! I shall not dare to confess his name. But _you saw and recognized him_ at Summer House when Steve was there a year ago last spring.

  "Now you know. Yes, I am madly in love, Jack. And am racked with terrors and nigh out o' my wits with this awful news of the Oriska battle.

  "We hear that Captain Walter Butler is taken out o' uniform within your lines; and so, lacking the protection of his regimentals, he is like to suffer as a spy. My God! Was he _alone_ when apprehended by Arnold's troops? And will General Arnold hang him?

  "This is the urgent news I ask of you. I am horribly afraid. In mercy send me some account; for there are terrible rumours afloat in this fortress--rumours of other spies taken by your soldiery, and of brutal executions--I can not bring myself to write of what I fear. Pity me, Jack, and write me what you hear.

  "Could you not beg this one mercy of Billy Alexander, that he send a flag or contrive to have one sent from your Northern Department, explaining to us poor women what truly has been,--and is like to be--the fate of such unfortunate prisoners in your hands?

  "And remember who it is appeals to you, dear Jack; for even if I have not merited your consideration,--if I, perhaps, have even forfeited the regard of Billy Alexander,--I pray you both to remember that you once were a little in love with me.

  "And so, deal with me gently, Jack. For I am frightened and sick at heart; and know very little about love, which, for the first time ever in my life, has now undone me.

  "Will you not aid and forgive your unhappy,

  "CLAUDIA."

  Good Lord! Claudia enamoured! And enamoured of that great villain, HenryHare! Why, damn him, he hath a wife and children, too, or I am mostgrossly in error.

  I had not heard that Walter Butler was taken. I knew not whetherLieutenant Hare had been caught in Butler's evil company or if, indeed,he had fought at all with old John Butler at Oriska.

  Frowning, disgusted, yet sad also to learn that Claudia could so rashlyand so ignobly lavish her affections, nevertheless I resolved to askLord Stirling if a flag could not be sent with news to Claudia and suchother anxious ladies as might be eating their hearts out at Oneida, orOswego, or Buck Island.

  And so I laid aside her painful letter, and unfolded the last missive.And discovered it was writ me by Penelope:

  "You should not think harshly of me, Jack Drogue, if you return and discover that I am gone away from Johnstown.

  "Douw Fonda is returned to Cayadutta Lodge. He has now sent a carriage for to fetch me. It is waiting while I write. I can not refuse him.

  "If, when we meet again, you desire to know my mind concerning you, then, if you choose to look into it, you shall discover that my mind contains only a single thought. And the thought is for you.

  "But if you desire no longer to know my mind when again--if ever--we two meet together, then you shall not feel it your duty to concern yourself about my mind, or what thought may be within it.

  "I would not write coldly to you, John Drogue. Nor would I importune with passion.

  "I have no claim upon your further kindness. You have every claim upon my life-long gratitude.

  "But I offer more than gr
atitude if you should still desire it; and I would offer less--if it should better please you.

  "Feel not offended; feel free. Come to me if it pleaseth you; and, if you come not, there is in me that which shall pardon all you do, or leave undone, as long as ever I shall live on earth.

  "PENELOPE GRANT."

  When Snips had powdered me and had tied my club with a queue-ribbon ofhis proper selection, he patched my cheek-bone where a thorn had tornme, and stood a-twirling his iron as though lost in admiration of hishandiwork.

  When I paid him I bade him tell Burke to bring around my horse and fetchmy saddle bags; and then I dressed me in my regimentals.

  When Burke came with the saddle-bags, we packed them together. Hepromised to care for my rifle and pack, took my new light blanket overhis arm, and led the way down stairs, where I presently perceived Kayasaddled, and pricking ears to hear my voice.

  Whilst I caressed her and whispered in her pretty ear the idletenderness that a man confides to a beloved horse, Burke placed mypistols, strapped saddle-bags and blanket, and held my stirrup as Igathered bridle and set my spurred boot firmly on the steel.

  And so swung to my saddle, and sat there, dividing bridles, deep fixedin troubled thought and anxiously concerned for the safety of theunselfish but very stubborn girl I loved.

  * * * * *

  I had said my adieux to Jimmy Burke; I had taken leave of the Commandantat the palisades jail. I now galloped Kaya through the town, riding byway of Butlersbury;[42] and saw the steep roof of the Butler housethrough the grove, and shuddered as I thought of the unhappy young manwho had lived there and who, at that very moment, might be hanging byhis neck while the drums rolled from the hollow square.

  [Footnote 42: A letter written by Colonel Butler so designates the placewhere the ancient Butler house is still standing. The letter mentionedis in the possession of the author.]

  Down the steep hill I rode, careful of loose stone, and so came to theriver and to Caughnawaga.[43]

  [Footnote 43: Now the town of Fonda.]

  All was peaceful and still in the noonday sunshine; the river wore aglassy surface; farm waggons creaked slowly through golden dust alongthe Fort Johnson highway; fat cattle lay in the shade; and from thebrick chimneys of Caughnawaga blue smoke drifted where, in her cellarkitchen, the good wife was a-cooking of the noontide dinner.

  When presently I espied Douw Fonda's great mansion of stone, I sawnobody on the porch, and no smoke rising from the chimneys, yet thefront door stood open.

  But when I rode up to the porch, a black wench came from the house, whosaid that Mr. Fonda dined at his son's that day, and would remain untilevening.

  However, when I made inquiry for Penelope, I found that she waswithin,--had already been served with dinner,--and was now gone to thelibrary to read and knit as usual when alone.

  The black wench took my mare and whistled shrilly for a slave to comeand hold the horse.

  But I had already mounted the stoop and entered the silent house; andnow I perceived Penelope, who had risen from a chair and was layingaside her book and knitting.

  She seemed very white when I went to her and drew her into my embrace;and she rested her cheek against my shoulder and took close hold of mytwo arms, but uttered not a word.

  Under her lace cap her hair glimmered like sun-warmed gold; and herhands, which had become very fine and white again, began to move upwardto my shoulders, till they encircled my neck and rested there, tightlinked.

  For a space she wept, but presently staunched her tears with her lacedapron's edge, like a child at school. And when I made her look upon meshe smiled though she still breathed sobbingly, and her lips stillquivered as I kissed her.

  * * * * *

  We sat close together there in the golden gloom of the curtained room,where only a bar of dusty sunlight fell across a row of gilded books.

  I had told her everything--had given an account of all that hadbefallen my little scout, and how I had returned to Johnstown, and howso suddenly my fortunes had been completely changed.

  I told her of what I knew of the battle at Oriskany, of the presentsituation at Stanwix and at Saratoga, and of what I saw of the fight atthe Flockey, where McDonald ran.

  I begged her to persuade Mr. Fonda to go to Albany, and she promised todo so. And when I pointed out in detail how perilous was his situationhere, and how desperate her own, she said she knew it, and had beenhorribly afraid, but that Caughnawaga folk seemed strangely indifferentto the danger,--could not bring themselves to believe in it,perhaps,--and were loath to leave their homes unprotected and theirfields untilled.

  But when I touched on her leaving these foolish people and, as my wife,travelling southward with me to the great fortress on the Hudson, sheonly wept, saying, in tears, that she was needed by an old and feebleman who had protected her when she was poor and friendless, and that,though she loved me, her duty still lay first at Douw Fonda's side.

  Quit him she utterly refused to do; and it was in vain I pointed out histhree stalwart sons and their numerous families, retainers, tenants,servants, and slaves, who ought to care for the obstinate old gentlemanand provide a security for him whether he would or no.

  But argument was useless; I knew it. And all I obtained of her was that,whether matters north of us mended or grew worse, she would persuade Mr.Fonda to return to Albany until such time as Tryon County became oncemore safe to live in.

  This she promised, and even assured me that she had already spoken ofthe matter to Mr. Fonda, and that the old gentleman appeared to be quitewilling to return to Albany as soon as his grain could be reaped andthreshed.

  So with this I had to content my heavy heart. And now, by the tallclock, I perceived that my time was up; for Schenectady lay far away,and Albany father still; and it was like to be a long and dreary journeyto West Point, if, indeed, I should find Lord Stirling still there.

  For at Johnstown fort that morning I was warned that my General LordStirling had already rejoined his division in the Jerseys; and that thenews was brought by riflemen of Morgan's corps, which was now swiftlymarching to join our Northern forces near Saratoga.

  Well, God's will must obtain on earth; none can thwart it; noneforetell----

  At the thought I looked down at Penelope, where I held her clasped; andI told her of the vision of Thiohero.

  She remained very still when she learned what the Little Maid ofAskalege had seen there beside me in the cannon-cloud, where the Germanforesters of Hainau, in their outlandish dress, were shouting andshooting.

  For Penelope had seen the same white shape; and had been, she said,afeard that it was my own weird she saw,--so white it seemed to her, shesaid,--so still and shrouded in its misty veil.

  "Was it I?" she whispered in an awed voice. "Was it truly I that theOneida virgin saw? And did she know my features in the shroud?"

  "She saw you all in white and flowers, floating there near me like mistat sunrise."

  "She told you it was I?"

  "Dying, she so told me. And, 'Yellow Hair,' she gasped, 'is quite awitch!' And then she died between my arms."

  "I am no witch," she whispered.

  "Nor was the Little Maid of Askalege. Both of you, I think, saw at timesthings that we others can not perceive until they happen;--the shadow ofevents to come."

  "Yes."

  After a silence: "Have you, perhaps, discovered other shadows since welast met, Penelope?"

  "Yes; shadows."

  "What coming event cast them?"

  After a long pause: "Will it make his mind more tranquil if I tell him?"she murmured to herself; and I saw her dark eyes fixed absently on thedusty ray of sunlight slanting athwart the room.

  Then she looked up at me; blushed to her hair: "I saw children--with_yellow_ hair--and _your_ eyes----"

  "With _your_ hair!"

  "And _your_ eyes--John Drogue--John Drogue----"

  The stillness of Parad
ise grew all around us, filling my soul with agreat and heavenly silence.

  We could not die--we two who stood here so closely clasped--until thisvision had been fulfilled.

  And so, presently, her hands fell into mine, and our lips joined slowly,and rested.

  We said no word. I left her standing there in the golden twilight of thecurtains, and got to my saddle,--God knows how,--and rode away besidethe quiet river to the certain destiny that no man ever can hope tohinder or escape.