Chapter XXII: A High-Handed Proceeding

"Had your watch been good,
This sudden mischief never could have fallen."

--First Part Henry VI.

Had Peggy been in the lead she would have headed at once for the "Great Raritan Road," a highway which ran down the valley of the river directly to the town of New Brunswick, which lay but a few miles west of Amboy. Harriet, on the contrary, turned toward Bound Brook, and entered the dense wood which stood between that village and the hills.

"This is not the way to Amboy, Harriet," remonstrated Peggy.

"No," answered her cousin briefly. Then, after a moment: "'Tis the only way to get through the lines without the countersign. We must not talk."

"Hasn't thee the countersign?" asked Peggy, dismayed.

"No; don't talk, Peggy."

And Peggy, wondering much how with two horses they could pass the pickets unchallenged, relapsed into silence. But the lack of the password did not seem to daunt Harriet. She pushed ahead as rapidly as was consistent with rough ground, thickly growing trees and underbrush, and the gloom of the forest. At length as they entered a shallow ravine Harriet drew rein, and, as Peggy came up beside her, she spoke:

"Are you afraid, Peggy?"

"No," replied Peggy, "but the stillness is monstrously wearing. And 'tis so dark, Harriet."

"Which is to our benefit," returned Harriet. "As for the quiet, once we are clear of the lines we can chat, and so will not mind it. But come!"

Again she took the lead, and Peggy, following after, could not but marvel at the unerring precision with which her cousin chose her way. Not once did she falter or hesitate, though to Peggy the darkness and gloom of the forest seemed impenetrable.

The melancholy of the forest encompassed them, infolding them like a mantle. It so wrought upon their senses that they reached out and touched each other frequently, seeking to find solace from its brooding sadness. It seemed as though hours elapsed before Harriet spoke in the merest whisper:

"I think we are without the lines, Peggy. 'Tis about time, and now we can seek the turnpike."

She had scarcely finished speaking when out of the darkness came the peremptory command:

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Friends," answered Harriet, as the two obediently brought their horses to a standstill.

In the darkness the shadowy form of the sentinel was but dimly visible, but a feeble ray of the pale moonlight caught the gleam of his musket, and Peggy saw with a thrill of fear that it was pointed directly toward Harriet.

"Advance, and give the countersign," came the order.

How it came about Peggy could not tell, but as he gave the command, Fleetwood reared suddenly upon his hind feet, and, pawing the air with his forelegs and snorting viciously, advanced toward the guard threateningly. An ominous click of the firelock sounded. Wild with terror at the sight, and fearful of what might happen, Peggy cried shrilly:

"Look sharp!"

"Why didn't you say so before?" growled the sentry lowering his gun. "What's the matter with that horse?"

"I think he must have stepped among some thorn bushes," replied Harriet sweetly. "I will soon quiet him, friend. The underbrush is thick hereabouts."

"Too thick to be straying around in at night," he answered with some roughness. "That horse is enough to scare the British. What are you doing in the woods? You are bound to lose your way."

"We have done that already," she told him with apparent frankness. She had succeeded by this time in quieting Fleetwood, who now resumed his normal position. By the merest chance they had stumbled upon the password, and she purposed making the most of it. "You see we were at a party in the camp, and coming back my cousin and I thought to make a short cut through the woods so as to get home quickly. We ought to have been there long ago, but 'twas a pretty little frisk, and we just couldn't make up our minds to leave. You know how it is."

"Yes," he rejoined laughing good naturedly. "I know how 'tis. I've gals of my own. Well, you just get over to that road as fast as you can. 'Tis a half mile straight to your right. And say! if another sentinel asks for the countersign speak right up. You're liable to get a ball if you don't."

"Thank you," she said. "We will remember. Come, my cousin."

"You blessed Peggy!" she exclaimed as they passed beyond the hearing of the guard. "How did you chance upon that watchword?"

"I don't know," answered Peggy, who had not yet recovered her equanimity. "I meant to say, 'Look out!' I don't know how I came to say sharp. But what was the matter with Fleetwood? Was he among thorns?"

"Dear me, no! 'Tis a trick that I taught him. You do not know all his accomplishments. 'Twas well for that sentinel that he let us through. Wasn't it, old fellow?" And her laugh as she patted the animal was not a pleasant one to hear.

Peggy shuddered. She would not like Star to be taught such tricks, she thought, giving the little mare a loving caress. She was beginning to doubt the wisdom of coming with Harriet. The girl appeared to know her way so well, to be so able to care for herself that there seemed no need for Peggy to be along. But let her see her safely to a place where she could reach her own people, and then Peggy resolved, with a quick tightening of the lips, nothing should ever induce her to put herself into such a plight again.

By this time the moon had gone down, and while the sky was not clouded there was a dim haze that rendered the light of the stars ineffectual in dispelling the darkness. On they rode. The time seemed interminable to Peggy; the blackness of the night unbearable. The sudden snapping of a dried twig under Star's feet caused her to start violently.

"Harriet," she cried, "naught is to be gained by keeping to the woods. The lines are passed. Let us get to the highway. We must make better progress if I am to get back before the reveille."

"That you will never do, Peggy," replied Harriet pointing to the sky. "'Tis almost time for it now."

Peggy looked up in dismay. The gray twilight that precedes the dawn was stealing over the darkness. The soldier's day began when the sentry could see a thousand yards about him. Another hour would bring about just that condition. It was clearly impossible for her to return before the sounding of the reveille.

"Does thee know where we are?" she asked. "And where is the road?"

"There is just a narrow strip of the woods betwixt us and the turnpike, Peggy," Harriet assured her. "It hath been so since we left the guard. We will get to it at once if it please you. As for where we are, we should be getting to Perth Amboy soon."

"But why hath it taken so long?" queried Peggy.

"Because the brigades of Baron Steuben and General Wayne lay south of the Raritan, and we had to go around them. I did not tell you, Peggy, that 'twould take so long because I feared that you would not come. It doth not matter, doth it, what way I took to safety?"

"No," answered Peggy, touched by this allusion to her cousin's peril. "It would have been fearful for thee to have come through the darkness alone, but oh, Harriet! I do wish thee had told me. Then I would have left a letter for mother, anyway. She will be so uneasy."

"Never mind!" consoled Harriet. "And then you may never see me again. Shall you care, Peggy?"

"Yes," answered Peggy soberly. "I will, but----" She paused and drew rein abruptly. "There are forms flitting about in the wood," she whispered. "Does thee think they mean us harm?"

Harriet made no reply, but gazed intently into the forest. In the indistinct light the figures of mounted men could be seen moving like shadows among the trees. That they were gradually approaching the maidens was evident. The girl watched them for a few seconds, and then leaning forward gave a low, birdlike call. It was answered in kind on the instant, and a half dozen horsemen dashed from the wood into the narrow highway.

"Now am I safe," cried Harriet joyfully, reaching out her hand to the foremost of the men who gathered about them. "Captain Greyling, your arrival is timely."

"We have waited many nights for you, Mistress Owen," said that officer. "We began to think that you might in very truth have become one of the rebels. You are most welcome."

"Thank you," she cried gaily. "You are not more pleased to see me than I am to be here. In truth, had I not succeeded in coming, I should not have had another opportunity. 'Twas becoming very uncomfortable in camp. I have barely escaped I know not what fate. But more of that anon. Peggy, let me present Captain Greyling of De Lancy's Loyal Legion. My cousin, Mistress Peggy Owen, Captain Greyling."

De Lancy's Loyal Legion! Peggy's cheek blanched at the name. This was a body of Tory cavalry, half freebooters and half in the regular service. Between New York and Philadelphia and the country surrounding both places the name stood for all that was terrible and malignant in human nature. So stricken with terror was she that she could not return the officer's salutation.

"Where lies the boat?" asked Harriet.

"Close to the bank of the river. The trees hide it. 'Tis but a shallop which will take us to the sloop which is in the bay outside Amboy. The men will bring the horses by ferry."

"Very well," answered Harriet, preparing to dismount. "We are at the end of our long ride, Peggy. Are you not glad?"

"I am for thee," said Peggy, speaking quietly but filled with a vague alarm. "As for me, I will bid thee farewell, and return to the camp."

She wheeled as she spoke, but instantly the mare's bridle was seized, and she was brought to a standstill.

"What is the meaning of this?" cried Peggy, her eyes flashing. "Thee is safe, Harriet. Call off thy friends. Thee knows that I must return."

"Dost think that I will part with you so soon, my cousin?" laughed Harriet mockingly. "Nay, nay; I have promised to bring you to New York. Best go peaceably, Peggy; for go you must."

"Never!" exclaimed Peggy, striking Star a sharp blow. The little mare reared, plunged, pranced and wheeled in the effort to rid herself of the hold on her bridle, but vainly. Peggy uttered a piercing shriek as she was torn from the saddle, and half dragged, half carried through the trees down the bank to the boat which was drawn up close to the shore. Two of the men followed after the captain and Harriet. The latter seated herself by Peggy's side, and placed her arm about her.

"'Twould have been better to come quietly," she said. "I meant you should go back with me all the while. I could not bear to lose you, Peggy. I thought----"

But Peggy, her spirit up in arms, turned such a look of scorn upon her cousin that Harriet paused in her speech abruptly.

"Speak not to me of affection, Harriet Owen," she cried. "Thou art incapable of feeling it. Is there no truth to be found in any of thy family? Are ye all treacherous and dishonorable? Would that thou wert no kin of mine! Would that I had never seen thee, nor any of thy----"

Unable to continue, she burst into a passion of tears.