Chapter XI: A Moonlight Flight

“She is won! we are gone over bank, bush and scaur;
They’ll have fleet steeds that follow,” quoth young Lochinvar,
So daring in love and so dauntless in war.
Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?—SCOTT.

Having left orders for his men to scatter and spread themselves through the forest and take different roads to their secret rendezvous, the guerrilla colonel took the mountain path and flew over it at a reckless rate, with as little regard to his captive’s cries as to his own neck.

Elfie was seated on the horse behind him and securely bound by a strong leathern girdle that passed around her waist and was clasped in front of his.

Elfie never ceased to struggle and to scold. Her arms were free and she could reach his head, so she cuffed his cheeks and pulled his hair with all her might and main. And she poured out scorn like lava on him.

But Goldsborough treated the pummelling and pulling as caresses, and the scolding as compliments; indeed, he scarcely noticed the one or replied to the other; until, after having reached the top of the mountain, they began to descend into a deep wooded dell, by a path so narrow and difficult that it was necessary to slacken speed.

“Unbind me! Put me down! Shame of manhood! how dare you treat me so?” cried Elfie, furiously, seizing his ears and making her nails almost meet through them.

“Blazes! what a little tigress she is, to be sure! I shall have to cut her claws,” laughed Albert Goldsborough.

“I’ll cut your throat!” cried Elfie.

“Oh, no you won’t, my dear! You will love me too well. You’ll love me as well as the Sabine girls loved the Roman youths who carried them off against their wills, just as I am carrying you!” laughed Albert.

“I’ll see you hanged first!” fired Elfie.

“Of course you will, my dear!—around your neck! Come, come, Elfie! Stop trying to tear my ears out by the roots, for I don’t think you’ll succeed. And do be reasonable! You don’t know what a gay life we are going to lead here in the green wood. Your most romantic dreams will be realized. You’ll think that you have slipped out of the nineteenth century and slid down into the twelfth. You’ll fancy yourself in Epping forest, living with Robin Hood and his merry men—except that we don’t wear _Lincoln_ green, Elfie; but Confederate gray. Come! shall I be your Robin Hood? And will you be my maid Marion?”

“I’ll be your death!” blazed Elfie.

“Oh, no you won’t, my dear. You’ll do as I said before.”

“What are you going to do with me, you demon?”

“Marry you, my angel!”

“Marry me!” cried Elfie, nearly choking with rage.

“Yes, my dear. We have a ‘Friar Tuck’ in our band, who will gladly solemnize the nuptial rites and dispense with the formality of a license or a wedding ring.”

“And do you think—do you think, you matchless villain!” cried Elfie, again seizing his ears with her nails and wringing them with all her strength, “do you really think that I will consent to such an outrage?”

“Friar Tuck will dispense with the bride’s consent as well as with the license, and the wedding ring!” answered Goldsborough, coolly.

“Oh, villain! I hope—I _do_ hope that neither steel nor ball may ever save you from the halter!” gasped Elfie, giving his ears a most vicious wring.

“See here, my girl, we are coming to the ford! and we must be careful! Just give my ears a holiday for a few minutes, will you, while you draw up your feet and fold your skirts up over your lap to keep them from getting wet,” said Albert, as they emerged from the wooded gorge of the mountain and descended to the banks of the river, now shining like a stream of fluid silver, in the broad moonlight.

“I won’t! I don’t care if I do get wet, or drown either! I’d be glad to drown, if I thought I could drown you with me!” exclaimed Elfie.

“See how she loves me! she is willing to meet death itself if shared with me,” mocked Albert. “So here we go.”

And he plunged into the river.

Splash! splash! splash! they went through the water, making the foam fly in every direction.

The gallant horse, heavily laden as he was, bravely breasted the current, and reached the opposite shore in safety.

“Elfie, my darling, do you know why I made this last raid into Maryland?” inquired the guerrilla, as they struggled up the slippery bank.

“No, nor care, you miscreant!” snapped Elfie.

“Can’t you guess?”

“To burn barns, and steal cattle, and rob hen-roosts, I suppose,” sneered Elfie.

“No. I went simply to fetch you, and for no other reason in the world,” answered Albert.

“Me! How on earth did you know I was there?” inquired Elfie, thrown off her guard by unbounded astonishment.

“By the same means through which I become acquainted with most events that pass in Washington—by my spies. I learned that you were getting up a picnic to go to the Great Falls. And I determined to intercept your return.”

“Oh, the traitress! It was Alberta. It was no one but Alberta that informed you. For I remember I mentioned to her at breakfast that morning, that I wanted to get up a picnic to go up the river!” indignantly exclaimed Elfie.

“Well, yes, it was Alberta who first told me of the intended excursion. But she did not tell me the day it was to come off.”

“No, for the day was not fixed when she ran away, the ingrate, so she could not have told you.”

“But one of my other spies, who was a member of your picnic party _could_.”

“A spy in our picnic party! That is false, you villain! Albert Goldsborough, have you become mendacious as well as thievish? The members of our picnic party were loyal. We would have taken no others,” angrily cried Elfie.

“As far as _you_ know,” laughed Goldsborough; adding: “Now, my dear, I don’t mind telling you, because I never intend to let you go back to report it, that there are no people in the world so profuse in their expressions of loyalty as my spies in Washington!”

They were now ascending a steep and narrow path, leading from the river banks up to the rocks above, and slippery and dangerous from the many fallen leaves. Albert Goldsborough was riding very cautiously, leaning forward over his horse’s neck to preserve the equilibrium of weight, and guiding him carefully. Once or twice the horse slipped and stumbled, but recovered himself immediately.

Elfie saw all this, and enraged by Goldsborough’s boast that he never intended to let her go back, she recklessly set herself to overturn horse and riders together. She was securely bound, you already know, with a broad leathern girdle to Albert’s waist; but her limbs were all free. So she raised herself as well as she could from her seat, and laying hold of Goldsborough’s shoulders, pulled and hung back with all her might to bring the weight behind, while she pummelled the horse’s flanks to make him rear and lose his balance.

“What are you about, Elfie? Do you wish to make the horse fall!” exclaimed Albert.

“That is just what I am trying to do, you villain! I don’t care if the horse rolls over backwards, on to us, and we all go rolling over and over each other, till we fall to the bottom of the precipice, a ball of crushed bones!” screamed Elfie, pulling and tugging and kicking, and doing all she could to effect her purpose; but in vain.

She made the horse slip and stumble, and shake his head impatiently when he recovered himself; but that was all.

At last, breathless and exhausted, she ceased her efforts.

Albert turned his head and laughed at her.

“Why, my dear, this old horse is a veteran! He has been in too many pitched battles, and in too many neck or nothing hunts—he has forded too many rivers, climbed too many mountains, faced too many batteries, and ridden down too many fixed bayonets—to be disturbed by trifles! And here we are at the top of the mountain; so you needn’t resume your efforts to pitch us down,” he added, as they reached the summit, and entered a thick copse wood of cedars, where here and there grew gigantic forest trees.

“I’ll make him dash your brains out against some of these trees!” cried Elfie. And she tried another experiment. She raised herself in her seat, screamed, halloed, shouted, and made the most unearthly noises to frighten the horse and make him run away; but all to no purpose; and once more she ceased for want of breath.

“How well you’ll sleep to-night, after all these violent exertions!” laughed Albert Goldsborough; “and the good night’s rest will be about all the good that you will obtain by the stupendous efforts. Bless you, my dear, the old horse is used to the roar of battle and the thunder of cannon! It isn’t likely that he is going to suffer himself to be annoyed by your little two-penny trumpet!”

“I’ll take out every pin I have about me, and stick them up to their heads in his hide!” screamed Elfie, beginning to do as she threatened.

“Try it. They’ll rust there before he takes any notice. Lord love you, girl, what are pins to bayonets! He is used to having bayonets stuck into him!” mocked the colonel.

“Albert Goldsborough! you basest of all base miscreants! where are you daring to take me?” demanded Elfie, beginning to shake with her increasing sense of shame and rage and terror.

“To the green wood, you fairest of all beauties! To the green wood, though it would not be so very green at this season of the year if it were not for the pines and cedars! To the green wood, to be married to Robin Hood, by his chaplain Friar Tuck, and to be Robin’s Maid Marion, and live among his merry men forever!”

“If I cannot succeed in killing you before I leave this seat, I’ll do it afterwards! I will, as surely as I am my mother’s daughter!” fiercely exclaimed Elfie, springing once more up from her seat, and seizing her captor’s ears, and trying her very utmost to wring and tear them off.

At that moment the clatter of horse’s feet was heard behind, and the next the huge form of Mutchison appeared, galloping rapidly after his chief.

Goldsborough halted until his officer came up.

“What news?” demanded the colonel.

“Good! Our scouts come in and report that the enemy’s cavalry, out in search of us, have gone off on a false scent, that I took care to have laid for them. Our men have divided themselves in small parties and taken separate roads, and will rendezvous at the Black Bear’s Pass, as you ordered. But, good gracious, Colonel, now I look at you, have you been in a battle?”

“No—except with this little wildcat here in which she has done all the fighting!” laughed Goldsborough.

“Your ears are each one clot of gore!”

“I dare say, though they feel to me as if they were each one ball of fire! See here, Mutchison—much as I dislike to restrain a young lady, we shall have to confine her hands, or I shall not have an ear, or a lock of hair left on my head! Take this pocket-handkerchief and tie her hands.”

“Pity it hadn’t been done first, colonel! It would have saved your beauty from being spoiled, and mine too. Thunderation! I would as leave try to tie a catamount, with a thousand claws!” exclaimed Mutchison, as he sought to secure the hands of Elfie, who fought, scratched, and bit with so much effect that the guerrilla’s face and eyes came to great grief before he succeeded in binding her.

After that they rode on more quietly through the woods, though Elfie did not cease to use her tongue, even if she could not use her hands.

“Yes, you murderer! don’t think but what I’ll have you hanged for killing Mim, for I’m _sure_ you have killed him!” Elfie exclaimed, for the first time bursting into tears of passionate sorrow as well as of rage.

“_That_ little tiny fellow! What if I did? You didn’t call _him_ a man, did you?” chuckled Mutchison.

“Yes, you monster! a thousand times more of a man than you and your master either, ever was!” sobbed Elfie.

“Why, he wasn’t bigger than one of my legs!”

“Don’t sneer at his size, you coarse brute! He had more spirit than all your cut-throat, chicken-stealing tribe put together. You huge brutes, if you have any soul at all, have it diluted with too much body to make it worth anything!” cried Elfie, with hot scorn.

“Oh, come, now. Don’t be vindictive. If I did knock the little fellow on the head, I promised you a bigger sweetheart, and you’ve got him,” chuckled the guerilla.

“Mutchison, let this cease. I desire that Miss Fielding may be treated with all the consideration possible under the circumstances,” said Colonel Goldsborough, sternly.

“Oh, that’s it, is it? Then I must order myself accordingly,” muttered the guerrilla to himself, but he raised his hat to his colonel in token of obedience.

They rode on silently through the woods a little while longer, and then Goldsborough said:

“We bivouac with the ‘Free Sword’ to-night, and to-morrow, if the road should be clear, go on to our rendezvous at the Black Bear’s Pass. I think that we are not very far from Corsoni’s encampment now, are we?”

“It is in a clearing in this forest somewhere, and I think that this path leads to it, Colonel. We shall see in a little while,” answered Mutchison.

“So we stop with the Free Sword, do we, to-night? And we shall see Alberta! And if we do—” exclaimed Elfie, setting her teeth and drawing in her breath.

“You’ll tear her eyes out if we leave your hands free,” laughed the huge guerrilla.

“Mutchison!” exclaimed Colonel Goldsborough.

“I beg your pardon, Colonel. I will say no more,” replied the man.

And they pursued their way in silence, until the forest grew thinner, and they seemed to be approaching a clearing.

“I see lights gleaming through the distance. Can they be the campfires of the Free Sword?” inquired Goldsborough.

“Yes, Colonel, I think so,” answered Mutchison, as they emerged from the thicket into a small, open space.

The next moment they came upon a picket guard, and were challenged.

“Who goes there?”

“Friends!” answered the colonel.

“Advance, friends, and give the countersign.”

“I don’t know your countersign, but you know me well enough, Robinson. I am Colonel Goldsborough.”

“Very sorry, Colonel, but I can’t let you pass without the countersign.”

“I am on a visit to your chief, in answer to his repeated invitations.”

“Very sorry, Colonel, but it is as much as my life is worth to let you pass.”

“Call the corporal of the guard, then, blame you.”

The word was passed for the corporal of the guard, who presently appeared upon the scene.

“Here is Colonel Goldsborough wants to pass and doesn’t know the countersign,” explained the picket.

“You know me well enough, Jenkins,” said Goldsborough, addressing the petty officer.

“Yes, sir but I dare not pass you without my colonel’s orders, though. If you will wait, I will send a messenger up to his quarters,” said the corporal.

“Do, then, and be quick about it,” exclaimed Goldsborough, impatiently.

While waiting for the return of the messenger, Goldsborough looked about with some curiosity, for this was a new encampment of the Free Sword, to which his brother-in-arms had never been before.

He saw that they were in a very small clearing, where the trees had been cut down to make room and furnish material for a picket’s hut, that stood in the very midst of the small, open space. Before this hut was burning a fire of brushwood, and around it were three or four guerrillas at rest, beside the sentry on duty.

Presently the messenger returned in attendance upon the Free Sword, who came in person to receive his brother-in-arms.

Vittorio Corsoni was not much changed in personal appearance since we saw him last. Originally very dark in complexion, exposure to the sun, wind and weather could not make him much darker, and he had the same long, black curls, small, white teeth, and large, melancholy eyes—eyes that had so mesmerized every woman that had ever come under their influence, and so bewitched Alberta Goldsborough to her destruction, and he had the same slight, agile and graceful figure that so reminded the beholder of a tiger. He wore a uniform of black cloth, with a crimson sash around his waist, a sword by his side, and a black wide-awake hat, with a black feather, fastened with a great fiery carbuncle.

He walked briskly up to Goldsborough to embrace him after the Italian fashion, and in doing so noticed the young lady on the horse behind him, and he raised his cap to the lady before he offered to greet her cavalier.

Albert bent low from his saddle to meet the advance of his friend, who, after kissing him on both cheeks, started back, exclaiming:

“But, good Heavens, Goldsborough! what has happened to your ears? Have they been torn off?”

“No,” laughed Albert; “they have been clawed off, clawed off by this little catamount on the horse behind me!”

“Vittorio Corsoni, don’t you know me? I am Elfrida Fielding, your old pupil.”

“Know you, fair lady? Perhaps not at first. I am glad to do so now. Welcome to my poor camp,” said the Free Sword, removing his hat and holding it in his hand.

“Colonel Corsoni, you used to be a gentleman. You will protect me, I hope, from this miscreant who has torn me away from my friends and brought me here.”

“Fair lady, we brothers-in-arms support each other in love as in war,” said Vittorio gently.

“But he brought me here against my will!” cried Elfie, indignantly.

“Sweet lady, stratagem is as fair in love as in war.”

“But there was no stratagem. He brought me here by violence!”

“It was the violence of passion inspired by your too delightful beauty. Gentle lady, you must forgive him,” answered Vittorio. And then, with a deep bow, he turned away from Elfie, and, addressing Albert, inquired:

“Shall we move forward?”

“If you please, Corsoni,” answered Colonel Goldsborough.

And the party started—Albert Goldsborough letting his horse pace slowly while Vittorio Corsoni walked by his side.

“I would dismount and walk with you willingly if I were not so burdened and hampered,” laughed Albert.

“Burdened with beauty, hampered with happiness,” murmured Vittorio gallantly.

But at the last words of his colonel, Mutchison had jumped off his horse, the use of which he now respectfully pressed upon the Free Sword.

Vittorio laughed and accepted it, saying that it would enable him the better to keep up with his companions.

“I might have come on horseback if I had thought of it; but the distance was so short, and I was so eager to relieve you from the embarrassment of being stopped by the guard, that it never occurred to me to get into the saddle,” said the Free Sword, as he rode on beside his brother-in-arms.

Their way lay again through the forest, until they came to another little clearing, with another hut and another guard, at which the Free Sword gave the countersign, and passed with his party.

Then they rode slowly on through the bushes while the two guerrilla leaders conversed in a low tone about the plans of their next campaigns, until they came to a grass-grown old road, on the other side of which was a low stone wall and a rusty iron gate guarded by a small porter’s lodge.

Before the gate paced a sentinel, and from the porter’s lodge, which was turned into a guard house, gleamed a dim light.

Corsoni gave the countersign and passed his party into an area that seemed once to have been the ornamented grounds of some magnificent country seat.

A fine old avenue of elm trees led from the lodge to the distant mansion, from the upper and lower windows of which gleamed dim lights.

All over the lawn, among dilapidated arbors, and dried-up fish ponds, and dead flower beds, were scattered the rude, hastily constructed huts of the guerrillas.

Here and there groups of horses, already saddled and bridled, were tied, as if kept for use at an instant’s warning.

Passing all these, Corsoni led his party up to the mansion, a large, two-story, double-fronted, white stone house, with basement and attic, and with a porch running its whole width in front, supported by huge stone pillars. A flight of stone steps led up to this porch, and to the double hall doors.

A sentinel paced to and fro before the house.

Corsoni dismounted and called a guerrilla to take his horse.

Goldsborough unbuckled the belt that held Elfie to him, and beckoned Mutchison to come and lift her off.

Elfie, who had not spoken since her vain appeal to Corsoni, suffered herself to be removed in silence.

Goldsborough alighted and immediately unbound Elfie’s hands, saying:

“I beg your pardon for having ordered this, my darling, but if I had not done so, I should have lost my scalp and my ears.”

The first use Elfie made of her freed hands was to dash her fists, one after the other, into Goldsborough’s face.

He laughed and dodged the blows, and then took one of Elfie’s hands to draw in his arm and lead her on.

But the enraged girl snatched her hand away, exclaiming:

“Go on! I will follow, since I must. And if I seem to yield now to circumstances, it is only as the tiger crouches for a surer spring! Albert Goldsborough, I will have your life for this!”

“The devotion of my whole life, Elfie,” he answered gravely.

Corsoni was standing at the foot of the stone steps waving his hands for them to come on.