The Tory Maid

  CHAPTER III

  A FLASH OF STEEL

  That night we sat at the long table in the dining-room of the inn. Allup and down its great length sat the officers of the Line--countrygentlemen from Cecil, Kent, and as far south as Queen Anne, who hadridden thus far to see the mustering and to give it their countenanceand their favour. Grave and sedate gentlemen many of them, men ofaffairs, the leaders of their counties, and delegates to theConvention and to Congress--men of the oldest and bluest blood in theprovince, of wide estates and famous names, whose families wielded amighty influence in the cause of the patriots and gave it stabilityand great strength.

  Then there was the parson, a merry old gentleman, stout of form, witha round face and twinkling eyes, who in his youth was a mightyfox-hunter in spite of his cloth; even then, stout as he had grown,when he heard the music of the hounds, it was with difficulty herestrained the inclination to follow, which now, alas! was madeimpossible by his great weight. We who loved hard riding, hardfighting, and a strong will, admired him, and no man was more popularthroughout the three counties than the fox-hunting parson. He knew thepeople and their ways, and was one of them.

  "I hear you are fire-eaters here," he said to a vestryman upon beinginstalled.

  "Then we are well matched," came the reply, "for they say you are apepperbox."

  So no gathering throughout the county was a success without theparson, and by the unanimous voice of the Line he was called to betheir chaplain.

  We sat there in the long dining-room amid the hum of many voices, theglare of many lights, and the click of the glasses, as the wine wasgoing around, when a young man who sat across the table from me rosewith his glass poised between his fingers.

  He was a handsome man, of twenty-one or twenty-two, of dark andswarthy features, thick lips and nose, and hair as black as night,telling of the Indian blood in his veins.

  His name was Rodolph, and he was the son of a man more noted for hiswealth than for his principles, but who was then at the city ofAnnapolis, a delegate from the county of Cecil.

  "I propose a toast," he cried, "that all true patriots should drink. Atoast to the delegates of this county, who at the convention of theprovince in the city of Annapolis are standing as the bulwarks ofliberty against the tyranny of the Crown."

  We were all on our feet in an instant to drink the toast, with a rightgoodwill, all except Charles Gordon, who sat at my right hand. He kepthis seat and watched us with a cool, sarcastic smile upon his lips.

  "Is not the toast good enough for you?" cried Rodolph, with an uglysneer upon his face.

  All eyes now turned to where Charles Gordon sat, and he slowly rose.

  "Drink to your delegates?" said he. "Not I. They are the scum of thecounty of Cecil, and you know it. I would as soon be governed by myslaves at the Braes as by such men as they are. I wish you joy ofthem." And bowing, he turned and left the room by a door that was nearat hand.

  For an instant there was silence, then an uproar broke forth, andRodolph sprang around the table to follow him, with several of theyoung men at his heels. But I, seeing the danger, with possibly athought of a fair maid's eyes, threw myself before the door with drawnsword.

  "No man passes through this door," I cried, "unless he passes overme."

  The crowd drew back in surprise.

  "Since when," I shouted, for they hesitated, "have Maryland gentlemenlearned to fight in mobs? If any one has an insult to resent, let himfight as becomes a gentleman, man to man."

  "Stand aside," shouted Rodolph, who was now before me, "and let me getat the traitor."

  "Put up your swords, gentlemen." I found I had a new ally in a tall,dignified gentleman, who took his place beside me, a Mr. Wilmer of theWhite House in Kent.

  "The lad is right," he said; "and you, Rodolph, I should think, wouldhave had enough of Charles Gordon of the Braes."

  At this there was a laugh, which at the time I did not understand; butthe company good-naturedly put back their swords and resumed theirplaces at the table, all except Rodolph, who slipped away from theroom.

  That night, as I lay upon my bed, dreaming, boylike, of the fair eyesof the Tory maid, and hoping that the part I had played in the matterof the toast might come to her ears and cause her to give me a smileat our next meeting, I heard the sound of footsteps coming down thepassageway.

  "There is great danger," said a voice, which I recognised as thelandlord's, as they were passing by my door. "Rodolph is stirring upthe crowd, and though you might brave the mob, Mistress Jean--" andthen the voices died away.

  "The mob" and "Mistress Jean." Clearly something must be afoot.Springing from my bed, I swore to myself, that, if anything happenedto the Tory maid, I would make Phil Rodolph feel the edge of my sword.Hastily throwing on my clothes, I went to the window and looked out.The night was dark, the sky being full of drifting clouds, throughwhich the moon faintly struggled; everything lay quiet and still inthe village and the camp. Steps were heard upon the porch below, andthen a horse was brought around from the stables. A moment later ahorseman mounted, and I saw a slender figure on the pillion behindhim.

  "Keep to the south road," said a voice, "they have only one sentrythere."

  I did not wait to hear more, but slipped downstairs and out of a sidedoor, and the next moment I was running softly through the camp to theoutpost on the south road, for one of my own men was stationed there,and I knew that without orders or the countersign no man would passthat way that night. It was well I did, for as I drew near I heard thechallenge "Who goes there?" and the answer "A friend."

  "Advance, friend, and give the countersign."

  "Maryland." But the Tory had missed it, and the next moment thesentry's rifle was at his shoulder, and I knew the cry for the officerof the guard would follow; so I stepped out from the shadow, and thesentry, seeing me, brought his rifle to a salute.

  "Lieutenant," he said, "he wants to pass, and has given the wrongcountersign."

  "Yes," said I, drawing my hat over my eyes, for I did not wish to berecognised by Mistress Jean. "I heard. But I know them; let thempass."

  "Certainly, Lieutenant."

  "Thank you," said the rider, and a still softer "Thank you" came fromhis companion. I bowed, but said nothing, and stood there watchingthem disappear down the dark road until the sound of the horse's hoofswas lost in the distance.

  "Queer time of the night to ride, sir," said the sentinel.

  "Yes; but they have far to go."

  "Kent or Queen Anne's, sir?"

  "Down by Bohemia Manor."

  "That is where that old Tory Gordon lives; they say they are going torout him out in the morning for insulting the committee last night. Heis up at the inn, there, and Phil Rodolph says he is going to make ithot for him."

  "Mere talk, I expect. Good-night."

  "Good-night, sir."

  I took my way back to the inn, and when I crawled to my room once moreand into bed, Dick Ringgold raised himself on his arm and said in asleepy voice: "What's up, Frisby?"

  "Oh, nothing," I replied; "go to sleep." And I soon followed my ownadvice.