Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778
Page 28
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE RIDE TO THE MILL
THE early morning had not yet gone when Little Peter started on hisjourney to the mill. He knew the place well, for many a time had he gonethere for his father. It was an antiquated structure beside a pond,which had been formed by a dam built across the very brook near which heand Indian John had passed the preceding night.
The work at the mill had been somewhat interrupted since the outbreak ofthe war, but the increasing necessities of the people of Old Monmouthhad led the miller to resume his labors, and Sarah had informed LittlePeter that he would surely find him in his accustomed place.
At times, the road led through the woods, and the boy could almost touchthe bushes that grew close to the sandy roadway on either side. His viewwas somewhat obstructed by these,--and that fact, together with theunbroken stillness that rested over all, combined to make Little Peterwatchful, and somewhat fearful as well.
The sunlight flickered through the treetops and cast fantastic shadowson the ground. The horses did not increase their speed above a slowtrot, for the heat was oppressive and the sandy road was heavy; and,eager as Little Peter was to be back again at Benzeor's house, he hadnot the heart to urge on the toiling beasts. The mill was not more thanthree miles from the place from which he had started, and at the pace atwhich the horses were then going the lad thought he would be back inless than two hours.
He had covered about half of the way to the mill when his horses, with asudden snort of fear, darted to one side of the roadway. Little Peterquickly drew the reins tight, and stood up to discover the cause of thealarm.
Two men stepped from the bushes into the road, and as they grasped thehorses by their bits the lad at once recognized them as BarzillaGiberson and Jacob Vannote.
"We thought you were Benzeor," exclaimed Barzilla, as he discovered whothe driver was.
"I've got his horses," replied Little Peter.
"So I see. What are you doing with them?"
"Going to the mill. You know the children are at Benzeor's house, andSarah wanted me to go for some meal. She said there was none in thehouse and her father wasn't likely to be home in time to get it, so Icame for it."
"Where's your father?"
"He's been sent to New York."
"So I've heard. Little Peter, do you know who made the attack on yourhouse?"
"It was Fenton's gang, I'm sure."
"So am I, and I ought to know, for I was there myself."
"You there?" exclaimed Little Peter. He did not refer to the suspicionshe had entertained concerning the very men who then stood before him;but he had never expected them to declare their actions so boldly. Thealarm which he had felt, when the two men had suddenly presentedthemselves in the road, was greatly increased now, and for a moment heglanced quickly about as if he were seeking some avenue of escape.
"Yes, we were there," resumed Barzilla, apparently ignoring the lad'salarm. "I didn't know but you knew it, and I've felt mean enough aboutit, too. We didn't have anything to do with what happened there," hehastily added; "but the truth is, we thought it was about time some kindof a stop was put to the doings of the pine robbers,--so Jacob, here,and I pretended to go in with them. Of course we didn't like the work,but we hoped we could learn enough about their plans to trap them. Andwe've almost succeeded. We've been as busy as you have, my lad, andpretty soon we hope the murderers of your mother will be run to cover."
Little Peter had never thought of the scheme which Barzilla mentioned,and at first he did not know whether to believe him or not. Certainlyappearances were against him, but he was in no position to dispute thestatement.
"Is that what Benzeor was doing, too?" he inquired.
"Benzeor? Benzeor Osburn? Don't you know what he had to do"--
"Hold on, Barzilla," interrupted Jacob. "Little Peter doesn't know abouthim, or he wouldn't let the children stay there."
"Why? What do you mean? Aren't the children safe there?" said Peterquickly.
"Safe? They couldn't be safer if they were in China, or some otherheathing land," said Barzilla. "Even Benzeor's horses are safe. Thereisn't such a team as that left in Old Monmouth," he added, "and if hisbeasts aren't touched, I don't think you need to worry very much aboutthe young ones."
"I don't understand," said Little Peter.
"You don't need to," said Jacob quickly, "You've got enough to worryabout, my boy, without bothering your head over Barzilla's words. Hetalks too much, anyway. You just go on and get the meal for Sarah;that's all you need to think about now."
"Yes, but Little Peter ought to know a bit more," said Barzilladoggedly. "The truth is that we've run some of Fenton's gang into thesevery woods. There are several of us scouring the region, and it's onlyfair to tell you that you may run across some of 'em if you keep on. Formy part I advise you to turn back and not go to the mill at all. Itisn't safe."
"Nobody'll touch him. Let him go on," said Jacob. "The children willhave to be fed, and he might as well get the meal. He's safe enough."
"He can do as he pleases," muttered Barzilla.
Little Peter was perplexed, for the actions and words of the men weresadly confusing. Tom had reported to him some of their previousconversations, and his own suspicions, as we know, had been aroused. IfBarzilla spoke truly now, he was in no slight danger himself, while thevery decided difference of opinion between the two men tended toincrease his confusion.
"I'm goin' to tell you some more," said Jacob. "Last night some ofFenton's gang went over to Mr. Farr's. You know the old man, don't you?"
"You mean Thomas Farr, the old man who lives with his wife and daughterover on the road to Imlaystown?"
"That's the very man. Well, Lew Fenton and some of his gang went overthere about midnight, and attacked the house. There wasn't any one in itbut the old man and his wife and their daughter, and you know she's oldenough to have arrived at years of discretion, to put it mildly. The oldpeople barricaded the doors with logs of wood just as soon as theydiscovered who the men were.
"The pine robbers tried to break the door down with some fence rails,but when that failed, they fired a volley of bullets right through thedoor. One ball broke the leg of the old man, but still they wouldn't letthe pine robbers in. Then the villains went around to the back door andsucceeded in smashing that in. They stuck a bayonet into the old man,who was helpless on the floor, and then they murdered his wife rightbefore his eyes. One of the men struck the daughter with the butt of hisgun, but, although she was pretty badly hurt, she managed to get out ofthe house.
"Fenton's gang didn't wait to plunder the place, but, as they wereafraid she'd raise an alarm, they all cleared out. 'Twas mighty luckyfor them that they did, for there was a lot of us near by. You see we'dseen Benzeor"--
"Hold on, Jacob. That's enough. Now, Peter, you see what's going on, andit's my opinion that some of Fenton's gang, and maybe Fenton himself,are in these very woods. That's why I advised ye not to go on. Now youcan do jest as ye like, for you've got pretty much the whole story."
"I think you'll be all right," said Jacob. "It's only a little way up tothe mill, and the children need that meal. I should go if I was in yourplace, and if I didn't have to keep watch here, I'd go with ye myself."
"I'll go," said Little Peter quietly.
"Good luck to ye, then," said Barzilla. "We'll see you here when youcome back."
Little Peter picked up the reins and at once started, leaving the twomen behind him, who remained standing in the road, and watched him untilhe disappeared from sight. The lad's feelings, however, had undergone avery decided change. He was convinced that the story concerning the agedThomas Farr was true, and he was also persuaded that his suspicions ofJacob and Barzilla were unjust.
Every tree now might be the hiding-place of Fenton, or some of his band.Each moment he expected to see some one step forth into the road beforehim and stop his horses. The very silence in the woods served toincrease his alarm. He quickened the speed of the horses, and soon theywere
wet with foam, as they toiled on through the heavy sand. The cry ofa bird, or the chattering of a squirrel, caused the excited lad toglance fearfully in the direction from which the sound came. To hisexcited imagination the woods were filled with his enemies, and morethan once a fallen tree or a broken branch took on the outlines of aman.
It was with a feeling of intense relief that at last he saw thecrumbling old mill before him. The sound of the water, as it droppedfrom the dam to the bed of the brook below, was like music in his ears;and when he discovered the miller himself standing in the doorway, heagain increased the speed of his horses, and soon halted before themill.
"I've come for Benzeor Osburn's grist," he said, as he leaped from hisseat to the ground.
"They must be pretty hungry over there, from the looks of your horses."
"They are. Has any one been here this morning?"
"Not a soul. There's no work now, with all this fighting going on. Haveyou heard anything from the soldiers?"
"Not much, only that both the armies must be near here now."
There was nothing, however, in the presence of the old mill to indicatethat war's rude alarms were to be heard anywhere in the region. Themonotonous sound of the falling water, the dull hum of the big wheel,the little garden which the miller had planted near his log house closeby, the dog lying asleep on the doorsill, the little urchins playing inthe waters of the brook, the hens fluttering in the roadway and coveringthemselves with dust,--all seemed to declare that only peace and quietwere to be found in the region.
And yet, only a few miles away two great armies had assembled, and, onthe morrow the summer air would resound with the booming of cannon, andmany a buffcoat and redcoat would be left lying side by side upon theplains of Old Monmouth, never again to be mindful of the struggle, orhear or heed the calls of their officers as they led the men intobattle.
At that very time, if the words of Barzilla Giberson were true, thewoods, which extended between the mill and the main road, concealed someof the hated pine robbers, as well as outraged patriots who weresearching for their enemies.
The wagon was soon loaded, the miller's share of the grist having firstbeen set aside, and Little Peter climbed up on the seat and grasped thereins, as he prepared to start again.
"You'd better be careful," said Little Peter. "I'm told some of thepine robbers are hiding in these woods."
"I'm not afraid," laughed the miller. "I never harmed them and theywon't harm me."
The lad related the story of the attack upon the house of Thomas Farr,but still the miller to all appearances was not deeply impressed.
"I haven't any money and they've nothing to gain by disturbing me. Igrind my grists just the same, whether it's a king or Congress thatrules over me, and I don't care much, for my part, which it is. I don'tbother my head about such things. All I want is good water and plenty ofcorn, and I'm happy all the day long."
Little Peter had given his warning, so he said no more, but bidding themiller good-day, he spoke to his horses and at once departed.
His load was heavier now than when he had come, and consequently he wascompelled to let his horses walk. Even then the sweltering beastslabored heavily under the intense heat, and he was compelled to stopfrequently and permit them to rest in some cool and shady spot.
His own fears had not departed, however, but every turn of the heavywheels brought him nearer to the main road, and once there he thought hewould be safe. Already one of the three miles had been left behind him,and he was about to start on, after the brief rest he had given thehorses, when he was startled by the sound of something breaking throughthe bushes that lined the road in front of him.
Tremblingly he waited a moment, gazing with frightened face at the placein the road where the man, or animal, or whatever it was, would firstappear. His suspense was not relieved when a horse and rider brokethrough the bushes and stopped only a few yards in advance of him.
Little Peter's face was deadly pale when he instantly recognized the manas none other than Lewis Fenton himself. He noted the great size, thebroad shoulders, the powerful arms, for the pine robber was ridingwithout a coat, and his shirt-sleeves were rolled back, disclosing thegreat bunches of muscles; but more than all else the brutal faceterrified him.
Before he could speak or move, Fenton leaped to the ground, and leavinghis horse by the roadside approached the wagon.
"How now, young man? Give an account of yourself. Where you going? Whoare you? As I live, if it isn't Little Peter Van Mater!" he added inevident astonishment.
As he spoke, he grasped the frightened lad by the shoulder and draggedhim to the ground. Then the brutal, cowardly man struck him two savageblows. The sight of the woods and even of the pine robber faded fromLittle Peter's eyes, and the unconscious boy dropped heavily upon thesand. Even then Fenton was not satisfied, for again and again he kickedthe body, apparently not yet convinced that life was extinct.
But Little Peter suffered no pain. With sightless eyes, hisblood-stained face looked up at the blue sky above the treetops, butneither the passing clouds nor the further actions of the brutal pinerobber were heeded by the lad.