Rodney, the Ranger, with Daniel Morgan on Trail and Battlefield

  CHAPTER I

  "YOU--YOU SIMPLETON!"

  A sturdy boy in homespun, a lad of nearly fourteen years, whose eyeswere clear and gray and whose face was resolute and honest, led hislittle sister by the hand, for she was small and the road was rough.

  "We'll rest, 'Omi, when we come to the big tree. Are you cold?" heasked, for there was the chill of March in the wind, though the sunlay very warm in the sheltered places.

  "No. Who?" she asked, pointing a tiny hand at two riders turning thecorner, a youth of about seventeen and a young girl. Their horses werespirited and the black groom following urged his horse.

  The youth was not attractive, though his riding habit was thefashionable product of a London tailor in the style of 1772. His hairwas dark, his eyes steely blue and set close to a long nose; his mouthwas ill adapted to a pleasant smile.

  The girl was attractive, a fact people were quick to recognize, andshe was so accustomed to seeing them turn and look after her that shewould have been piqued had they not done so. Her ways were wilful butthere was a grace in them all. Mischief lurked in the dark blue eyes,which now lighted with genuine pleasure. She fluttered from her horseas a bird alights and threw her arms around the child, exclaiming,"And how is little Naomi?" Then, holding the child from her, shelooked in her face and said, "You are a dear. Aren't you proud of her,Rodney?"

  "She's just as good as she looks," the boy replied, blushing withpleasure, and then glanced at the youth, who did not appear to noticehim but slyly spurred his horse, so that the animal in swerving wouldhave knocked Rodney into the ditch had the lad not been nimble.

  "Nith; red," said the child, clutching the girl's scarlet cloak.

  "Yes, and you like my poor, old red hat, too, don't you? though CousinMogridge says it ill becomes me."

  "Eth, pretty too," and the child pouted her lips for a kiss.

  Not one, but several, were most graciously given her with theadmonition: "Next time you be sure and remember me and my name. SayLisbeth Danesford."

  "Lithbeth Danethford," repeated the child, looking up into the faceof the girl, her big, brown eyes full of seriousness. "I like 'oo."

  "Have a care, 'Omi, for once Lisbeth knows that she'll treat you asshe does her other admirers."

  This remark was surprisingly impolite for Master Rodney Allison, buthe was offended that Lisbeth had not introduced him to her Londoncousin, whom he was itching to thump. Moreover he had experiencedLisbeth's fickleness.

  She ignored him and said: "'Omi, where did you find such eyes? Theyare like stars with dew on them," but suddenly she broke off and, witha bound, snatched from her cousin's hand the whip with which he wasabout to lash Rodney.

  The youth, evidently not liking the conversation, had again spurredhis horse against young Allison, who without ceremony had seized thebit and set the animal on his haunches, nearly upsetting the rider.

  Lisbeth had seen enough to know what had caused the trouble. "Boys arebullies," she cried. "Here's a test for your valour. Who'll rescue myabused hat from the dragon?" saying which she sent it spinning overthe fence.

  Now the dragon was nothing less than a full grown and surly bullgrazing in the pasture.

  Rodney, enraged at Mogridge's insolence and taunted by her words andthe sight of the hat scaling like a low-flying swallow, yielded to themad impulse to follow it. He would show the arrogant London youth whata Virginia boy dared do!

  The bull had lifted his head in amazement, which gave place to rage atthe red thing flashing before his sullen eyes. Snorting, he chargedjust as the lad snatched the hat from the ground and, turning, rantoward the fence.

  It was a foolhardy deed, and the boy's chance of escape seemedhopeless,--when the unexpected happened.

  A little figure climbed the fence and with a shrill cry ran to meethim, waving her red cloak to distract the brute's attention.

  The boy started to run between the bull and the girl, but sheshrieked, "I'm all right. Run for your life!"

  Had not the beast hesitated, uncertain which of the two was histormenter, this story would be brief indeed. Before Mogridge haddismounted the two had reached safety.

  The girl, almost breathless, turned to Rodney, stamped her foot andbetween her gasps cried: "You--you--simpleton!"

  Rodney Allison, being now in his right mind and a sensible lad,realized the merited rebuke, though scarcely from the girl who haddared him to make the venture.

  "I fancy Squire Danesford will think you one too, Bess, when he hearsof you facing charging bulls like a Spanish picador, all to savechurlish fools from their folly," said her cousin, sneeringly.

  "Don't you dare tell him! If you do I'll never speak to you again."There was a tearful note in the girl's voice and a disagreeable one inthe youth's laugh.

  Again he laughed and with flaming face she cried, "Perhaps you hadbetter tell him all while you're about it; how you sat your horse likea pat of dough and watched me do it."

  It was Rodney's turn to laugh, which he did most heartily, andMogridge, his face redder than his fancy waistcoat, wheeled his horseand rode after the girl who was spurring ahead.

  "I'd like to roll him in the mud and you'd like to have me do it,wouldn't you, 'Omi?"

  Naomi, trudging confidingly by his side, looked inquiringly out of herbig eyes, stars with plenty of dew on them now, for during theexcitement she had lifted up her voice in wailing and the tears hadflowed freely.

  Not until the riders drew rein at "The Hall" did Henry Mogridgeovertake his cousin in the headlong race home. As it was, shedismounted before he could offer assistance and ran up the steps andacross the white pillared veranda into the great wainscoted hall. Aninstant she paused, looking up at the portrait of a beautiful womanhanging there, and then went to her room.

  The flickering light from the logs in the big fireplace relieved theshadows on the face in the frame, a face so like that of the girl's asto leave no doubt whence she had inherited her charms.

  The colour of hair and eyes, the poise of head, all were strikinglylike, but in the girl's face was a wilful recklessness, perhaps due tolack of a mother's care, the mother she had never known, but more thanprobable an inheritance from her father, the reckless, hot-headed,sporting squire.

  At table that evening the girl said little and made an excuse to leavebefore the last course.

  Would her cousin tell her father? At the thought a look of defiancewas in the girl's face, a look not pleasant to see there.

  As for the youth with the long nose and the narrow eyes, he had otherplans for the present. Just now he was making himself as companionableas possible to his uncle, and it must be admitted he knew somewhat ofthe ways in which to do this. He told of the latest plays andscandals, to all of which the squire listened with occasionalinterruptions and allusions to what he knew of the London of theFifties.

  "Jupiter!" cried Mogridge, "but I'd think you'd find the Old Dominionmighty tame after the pleasures and associations you enjoyed in thatgood old town."

  "It's all in adapting one's self, my boy. I'm a bit old and Lisbeth istoo young to show you what pleasures the Old Dominion really canafford. I'll have to turn you over to the Reverend Pothero. He's arare blade and sure cure for ennui."

  "We hear tales of some of your Virginia parsons, and the joke of it isthe stories, many of them at least, come from churchmen."

  "Oh, well, some things might be better, I suppose, but what can youexpect when so few desire to take up the work in this country? To tellthe truth, it sometimes was confoundly lonely at The Hall beforePothero came. But you haven't told me anything of the government'slatest policy with respect to these colonies. Will Lord North's handbe strong on the helm and what have we to fear from that archdemagogue, Pitt?"

  "North's hand will be as firm as the king's and no firmer. Pitt willbe dead when he has ceased to be a demagogue. The king speaks of himas 'That Trumpet of Sedition,'" replied Mogridge with an air ofsagacity.

  "I fear you are right. His words have afforded the would-be traitorsi
n this land their chief encouragement."

  "And from what I hear they seem to be having their way in Virginia."

  "Yes, there's the very old Harry to pay here. Men whose position andinterests lie in retaining the old order of things are catering to therabble for a little temporary advantage. You see, the past few years,the Scotch-Irish immigrants have been pouring into the northwesternpart of the colony. By nature and education they are hostile torightful authority, are Dissenters and opposed to contributing in theway of taxes for the support of the established order."

  "I understand that the other side, the men who are using theseignorant people for their purposes, have control of the House ofBurgesses."

  "Fools! to think they can scare England by refusing to buy goods ofher just because she wishes them to pay a small tax. I've just heardthat Colonel Washington met Richard and Francis Lee at the RaleighTavern in Williamsburg the other night after the governor, God blesshim! had dissolved the Burgesses; that with Tom Jefferson and PatrickHenry they laid their plans for uniting with the rebels in the othercolonies. I can't understand of what such men as Washington arethinking. Treason, _pur et simple_, that's what 'twill come to."

  "Henry is a wonderful orator, they say."

  "Words, words, and more words. Where he learns 'em all is a mystery,for he'd much rather talk than study. He's infatuated young Jefferson,who's yeoman on his father's side, but who's as smart as he isconceited. What do you suppose that young scamp is trying toaccomplish? Nothing less than the ruin of the old families of thisDominion, sir. He would so change our laws that, instead of ourestates descending to the eldest son and thus being kept up, theywould be divided among the children, as is done in Massachusetts. Andhe would disestablish the church, he would, by gad, sir!"

  The squire's face, always florid from high living, was now so purplewith passion that his wily nephew, fearing apoplexy, changed thesubject.

  "By the way, uncle, why don't you send Lisbeth to England to finishher education? She's growing to be a handsome woman and surely, ifyou'll pardon me, your broad acres can yield sufficient to fit her forthe high position she'll be called to occupy."

  "She's but a girl, all I have. She's like her dead mother and I--Ican't let her go."

  "But think what her mother would wish. Go over with her."

  "I can't leave the estate. The slaves are only to be depended on whenthey have a capable overseer. Mine is not altogether trustworthy."

  "Excuse me but I don't think it right for her to associate withservants and people like the Allisons. By the way, who are theseAllisons? When riding this afternoon we met the boy and child, andLisbeth made much of them. Surely they are not of our class."

  "Allison is a Scotchman. I happened to be at Norfolk when he landedfrom the old country. The captain told me the fellow had been broughton board unconscious and with a bad wound in his head. I liked theman's face, and asked no questions. He never spoke of the matter. Ipaid the cost of his passage and let him work it out. He's a goodaccountant."

  "An objectionable person, probably an escaped convict," remarkedMogridge with the air of a judge.

  "On the contrary he seems a most respectable man. To be sure he's aDissenter, but one has to expect that. I've always found himtrustworthy. He has taught a field school for years and the childrenmake good progress under his instruction."

  "You can't mean that you allow Lisbeth to go to such a school?"

  "Well, you see," replied the squire as if in excuse, "the school is asmall one, confined to my neighbours' children, otherwise I wouldn'tallow it."

  "So she associates with such boys as that Allison."

  "He's a fine lad. His mother was a Tawbee, old Squire Tawbee'sdaughter. She was a playmate of mine and lived at Greenwood till ithad to be sold, after the squire's death, to pay the debts."

  "But you don't know about the father?"

  "I said," replied the squire, rather testily, "that he's a decent manexcept for his revolutionary notions. He wants to say 'amen' everytime Patrick Henry opens his mouth. That, I have no patience with.England has helped us fight our foes. This hullabaloo about notaxation without representation fills the ears of the ignorant. Why,fifty years ago the chronic growlers opposed the establishment of apostal service because the government, without consulting thecolonies, charged postage on the letters."

  "It seems, however, that you are providing a living for a man who is achronic growler and opposed to you." There was the evident suggestionof a sneer in Mogridge's voice.

  "Well, I suppose I might look at it that way. I took him up when hehadn't a friend."

  "Pardon me, but I do not see how one might look at it in any otherway. A fellow who will do as you say he is doing, is an ingrate."

  The squire frowned, but made no reply, and Henry Mogridge smiledunpleasantly, for he saw that his words were surely poisoning hisuncle's thoughts respecting the Allisons.