True to the Old Flag (Historical Novels - American Cycle). G. A. Henty

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СКАЧАТЬ any surprise from that direction."

      "I am very glad to hear it," Mr. Jackson said. "It will relieve me of a great anxiety. But pray be watchful when you are in this neighborhood. You have made a bitter enemy, and, after what he has proved himself capable of, we cannot doubt that he would hesitate at nothing. I understand," he went on with a smile toward his eldest daughter, "what is at the bottom of his conduct, and, as I have long suspected his hopes in that quarter, I am not surprised that he is somewhat hostile to you. Still, I never for a moment deemed him capable of this."

      The next day Mr. Jackson learned that his neighbor had left his plantation, and had told his servants that he was not likely to return for some time.

      Shortly after this a series of bad luck attended the doings of the British scouts. Several parties were killed or captured by the enemy, and they were constantly baffled by false reports, while the Americans appeared to forestall all their movements. It was only when enterprises were set on foot and carried out by small bodies that they were ever successful, anything like combined action by the orders of the officers constantly turning out ill.

      "There must be a traitor somewhere," Peter said upon the return of a party from an attempt which, although it promised well, had been frustrated, to carry off a number of cattle from one of the American depots. "It aint possible that this can be all sheer bad luck. It aint no one in our company, I'll be bound. We aint had any new recruits lately, and there aint a man among us whom I could not answer for. There must be a black sheep in Gregory's or Vincent's corps. The enemy seem up to every move, and, between us, we have lost more than thirty men in the last few weeks. There aint no doubt about it—there's a traitor somewhere and he must be a clever one, and he must have pals with him, or he couldn't send news of what we are doing so quickly. It beats me altogether, and the men are all furious."

      "I've been talking with some of our men," Peter said a few days afterward, "and we agree that we are bound to get to the bottom of this matter. We're sartin sure that the traitor don't belong to us. What we propose is this, that the hull of us shall go up together, without saying a word to a soul, and scatter ourselves along the river at all the points where a chap going with a message to the enemy would be likely to cross. The night we go out we'll get the three captains all to give orders to their men for an expedition, so that whoever it is that sends messages from here would be sure to send over word to the Yankees; and it'll be hard if we don't ketch him. What do you say?"

      "I think the plan is a very good one," Harold answered. "If you like, I will go with my father and ask Gregory and Vincent to send their men."

      Captain Wilson at once went to these officers. They were as much irritated and puzzled as were their men by the failures which had taken place, and agreed that, next evening, an order should be issued for the men of the three corps to act in combination, and to allow it to leak out that they intended to surprise an American post situated near the river, twenty-one miles distant. Captain Wilson's scouts, instead of going with the others, were to act on their own account.

      On the day arranged, as soon as it became dark, the forty scouts quietly left their quarters in small parties and made their way toward the river, striking it at the point where a messenger would be likely to cross upon his way to give warning to the American post of the attack intended to be made upon it. They took post along the river, at a distance of fifty or sixty yards apart, and silently awaited the result. Several hours passed and no sound broke the stillness of the woods. An hour before dawn Peter Lambton heard a slight crack, as that of a breaking twig. It was some distance back in the woods, but it seemed to him, by the direction, that the man who caused it would strike the river between himself and Jake, who was stationed next to him. He noiselessly stole along toward the point. Another slight sound afforded him a sure indication of the direction in which the man, whoever he might be, was approaching. He hastened his steps, and a minute later a negro issued from the wood close to him. He stood for an instant on the river bank and was about to plunge in, when Peter threw his arms around him.

      Although taken by surprise, the negro struggled desperately and would have freed himself from the grip of the old scout had not Jake run up instantly to his comrade's assistance. In a minute the negro was bound and two shots were then fired, the concerted signal by which it would be known along the line that a capture had been effected. In a few minutes the whole body was assembled. The negro, who refused to answer any questions, was carried far back into the woods and a fire was lighted.

      "Now, nigger," Peter said, taking, as captor, the lead in the matter, "jest tell us right away where you was going and who sent you."

      The negro was silent.

      "Now, look ye here, darky, you're in the hands of men who are no jokers. Ef you tell us at once who put ye on to this trick no harm will happen to you; but ef ye don't we'll jest burn the skin off your body, bit by bit."

      Still the negro was silent.

      "Half a dozen of yez," Peter said, "as have got iron ramrods shove them into the fire. We'll soon find this nigger's tongue."

      Not a word was spoken until the ramrods were heated red-hot.

      "Now," Peter said, "two of yez clap your ramrods against this darky's flanks."

      The negro struggled as the men approached him, and gave a terrific yell as the hot iron was applied to his sides.

      "I will tell you, sars—oh! have mercy upon me and I will tell you eberything!"

      "I thought," Peter said grimly, "that you'd find a tongue soon enough. Now, then, who sent you?"

      "My massa," the negro answered.

      "And who is your master?"

      The negro was again silent, but as, at a nod from Peter, the men again raised the ramrods, he blurted out:

      "Massa Chermside."

      The name was known to many of the scouts, and a cry of anger broke from them.

      "I thought as much," Harvey said. "I suspected that scoundrel was at the bottom of it all along. Where is he?" he asked the negro.

      "Me not know, sar."

      "You mean you won't say," Peter said. "Try the vartue of them ramrods again."

      "No, no!" the negro screamed. "Me swear me do not know where him be. You may burn me to death if you will, but I could not tell you."

      "I think he is speaking the truth," Harvey said. "Wait a minute. Have you done this before?" he asked the negro.

      "Yes, sar. Eight or ten times me swim de river at night."

      "With messages to the Americans?"

      "Yes, sar; messages to American officers."

      "Have you any written message—any letter?"

      "No, sar, me never take no letter. Me only carry dis." And he took out from his hair a tiny ball of paper smaller than a pea.

      It was smoothed out, and upon it, were the words, "General Washington."

      "Where I go, sar, I show dem dis, and dey know den dat de message can be believed."

      "But how do you get the message? How do you see your master?"

      "Master's orders were dat me and two oders were to meet him ebery night, after it got dark, at a tree a mile from de place where de soldiers are. Sometimes he СКАЧАТЬ