CHAPTER XXVI
TRICKED, AND BY HIS FRIEND
Burgoyne, on meeting Colonel Morgan after the surrender, had said tohim: "Sir, you command the finest regiment in the world."
"A feller with ornary jedgment mought reach that ar conclusion withhalf the experience," remarked a lank old rifleman, whose peculiargait had given him the name of "Lopin' Luther." Nevertheless, thecompliment greatly pleased the Rangers. It could not, however, remedythe injustice done Morgan and his corps by Gates in not makingfavourable mention of them because the "old wagoner" so sturdilyrefused to participate in Gates' scheme to supplant Washington.
"Nawthin' ter do but keep at it; sun'll be shinin' bimeby," was theterse comment of one of the Rangers, and his was the philosophy whichprevailed.
Rodney thought of the Indian saying: "My foot is on the path and theword is onward," when, on the first of November, orders came to joinWashington's army.
"Now we'll be under a general as will play fair," was the way onerifleman expressed the general sentiment, and they set out on theirjourney, war-worn and ragged and weary with the arduous campaigning ofthe previous months.
As they marched away, one of the number sang to improvised music thosestirring words written by the Reverend Timothy Dwight, one of the armychaplains:
"Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies."
Sorry looking Rangers were they when they arrived at Washington'sheadquarters; shoes worn out, clothes in tatters. There they found adwindling army. The battles of the Brandywine and Germantown had beenfought in their absence, and the British were in Philadelphia,planning for a hilarious winter. What remained of the American armymust exist outside in the cold of a bitter winter and do what theymight to keep the enemy where it was and cut off its supplies wheneverpossible. Those of the Rangers who had suitable clothing wereimmediately assigned to duty. At Gloucester Point they bore themselvesso creditably that Lafayette said of them: "I never saw men so merry,so spirited and so desirous to go on to the enemy...."
Later, at Chestnut Hill, their unerring rifles did such execution thatHowe's soldiers bore a sorry burden back to Philadelphia. There weresad gaps, as well, in the ranks of the Rangers, and among thosefatally wounded was the gallant Morris who had charged the line atBemis Heights.
As usual, the Rangers were assigned to outpost duty and scouting.Owing to need of secrecy, many a bitter winter night was passed byRangers in this work without a camp-fire. These were wretched weeksfor Rodney Allison; and there were moments when they seemed worse thanthe days of his captivity among the Indians. Then he would be remindedthat Morgan's men were noted as well for endurance and fortitude asfor courage and skill. It should not be said that the son of DavidAllison flinched or shirked a duty!
At the close of one cold, gray day spent on guard the officer incharge of the guard said to Rodney: "Can ye keep awake all night? Ineedn't ask ye though; ye've got to, fer thar be no men left to do thejob."
"I'll try. What is it?"
"This mornin' one of our scouts saw a British officer ride to a house'bout half a mile from here. We sent three Rangers down thar an'hunted high an' low, but hide nor hair could they find. I 'low he'sthar an' to-night he'll try to git ter Philadelphy. You got ter godown thar an' stop him. If a word won't do, try a bullet."
It was a dismal prospect. The wind was cutting, and Rodney's clotheswere worn thin. The weather was almost too cold for snow, but by nightit fell in fine, stinging particles. Out on the road young Allisontramped to and fro to keep warm, occasionally stopping to thresh hisarms. Late in the evening he saw someone go to the stable, and soonafter a double team was driven out. The door of the house opened anda woman came out and entered the carriage. There were good-byes spokenin loud tones with no apparent attempt at concealment. Rodney was nocoward, but in his heart he was glad that, instead of two men, he hadonly one and a woman to deal with. The woman might scream but probablywouldn't shoot.
The driver cracked his whip and the team came down the road at arattling pace.
"Halt!"
The word rang sharply on the ears of the driver, a black man, and hequickly brought his horses to a standstill.
"Drive back. My orders are to allow no one to leave that house."
"You surely aren't making war on women," said the girl, opening thedoor of her carriage, and her voice sounded strangely familiar.
"I am making war on no one who obeys orders," he replied, his riflelevelled at the driver.
"Is that you, Rodney Allison? It is!" Then she laughed, such a merry,rollicking laugh, which the next instant gave place to indignation, asshe exclaimed: "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What have I donethat I should not be permitted to return to Philadelphia? Am I the manyour backwoodsmen searched the house for, do you think? Black Petedoes not greatly resemble any British officer I ever saw," and thenshe laughed again. "And I'm not forage, am I? And there's not a soulbut me in this carriage; look for yourself. There, now tell Pete todrive on, please. After all, I'm glad to see you. And send my love toyour mother and Naomi, won't you."
Rodney hesitated. She was the same imperious, winsome girl who hadbeen his favourite playmate. No, there was no one inside the carriage;he was sure of that. How the men would laugh at him for capturing anegro and a girl! He felt like a ninny and afraid he might look likeone.
"Drive on," he said with all the importance he could command, adding:"I am sorry to delay you, but must obey orders."
"Good night," she called back as she rode away. The coachman wasplying the whip, and there was a note of triumph in her voice thatsomehow jarred on Rodney's nerves.
As he paced back and forth the conviction that he had made a gravemistake grew upon him, though for his life he could not be sure why itmight be a mistake. Why need he say anything about the affair? The menwould only joke him. Yes, he would tell the whole story and take theresponsibility.
"Did ye inspect the inside o' the nigger as well as the carriage?" wasthe question sharply asked him by the officer the following day, whenit was found that the officer's horse was gone from the stable, andthat every slave on the place had run away the day before, just afterthe search of the house.
"'SAY, YOU FELLERS AS HEV BREECHES OUGHT TER BRING US IN ABITE TER EAT.'"]
Assuming the disguise of a black menial was the last thing he wouldhave suspected a haughty British officer to do!
Oh, but the disappointment was a bitter one! He had expectedpromotion. Certainly he had earned it. Now, that hope was gone. Hisblunder was the jest of his comrades, who would call after him:"Nigger in the woodpile, nigger on the box."
Morgan, troubled with rheumatism, had gone to his home in Winchesterfor the winter. The army was half starved and poorly clothed, andto make matters worse, it was generally understood that thesehardships were due to corruption and incompetency; for there weresome in authority, in those days, who were greedy, dishonest andhard-hearted.
Young Allison had occasion to visit the camp at Valley Forge and thesights he saw there never left his memory. Wretchedness and miserywere on every side. How did Washington, knowing as he must that theseconditions were unnecessary under proper management, how could he hopeever to save the country?
Who was that haggard fellow with bare feet wrapped in rags and littlebut an old horse blanket to keep out the wintry wind? Angus? Yes, nodoubt of it!
"Hi, Rod! Say, you fellers as hev breeches ought ter bring us in abite ter eat. What's the good o' your foragin' if yer don't?"
"I haven't had a mouthful since last night, myself. How are you,anyway? I don't see how you men can stay here and bear it."
"Many of us wouldn't if we'd the duds ter git away in. It's a hardroad ter Charlottesville fer bare feet."
"I'm beginning to feel like taking it. When we drive the British outof the Quaker City then we'll apply for a furlough, eh, Angus?"
"I'd go this minute if I could."
"I doubt it, Angus. You always were a tena
cious fellow."
"What's the good o' stayin' when Congress won't provide board an'clothes? They sure are a shiftless lot."
"They might easily be improved, it would seem, but we've gone too farin this war to turn back now."
"Starvin' an' freezin' ain't goin' ter help ther cause none."
"Spring will soon be here and we'll feel better, I hope."
Spring was approaching, and never again was the American army tosuffer as it did that winter at Valley Forge. Those who endured, andlived through it, won such glory as few men achieve.
Colonel Morgan rejoined his command in the spring. The enemy werebeginning to show signs of animation. Rumours were about that Howeintended to leave Philadelphia, and then another to the effect that hewas to be recalled.
One day a company of Rangers was sent to support Lafayette at BarrenHill, Rodney among the number. Two British generals were marchingtheir men by different routes from Philadelphia to capture thedistinguished Frenchman and his command.
"Here," thought young Allison, "is my chance," and he set his face,which had noticeably hardened during the cruel winter. No more wouldit look with favour on the flattering smiles of a girl; at leastRodney had so resolved.
When the charge was made in characteristic Ranger manner, Allison wasin the front line and was the last to turn back, though there wereseveral bullet holes in his clothes. Another charge, and again he wasin the lead. A big redcoat was upon him before he could reload. Heclubbed his rifle, knocked aside the bayonet thrust and felled hisantagonist. Then, when he turned to retreat, it was too late; aflanking party was at his back, and, with several other prisoners, hewas driven off to Philadelphia.
Into the Provost Prison on Walnut Street he was huddled along withothers. Oh, the squalor of it! The air was foul, the food poor, andthe officer in charge, Captain Cunningham, a brutal man, inflamed withdrink most of the time.
How his head ached the following morning! At first he attributed it tothe foul air, but surely that could not cause every bone in his bodyto ache, nor the parched, feverish condition of his mouth. Was he,after so long escaping the hazards of camp and battle, to die in ahole like that old prison? That had been the fate of many a man.
"Hello, Allison. I'm glad, yet sorry, to find you here."
Rodney looked up. They had just brought in Lawrence Enderwood. For afew minutes, in the pleasure of companionship, the lad forgot thefever pains, but they would not be forgotten for long.
Enderwood entreated Cunningham to send a doctor, but was gruffly toldto mind his business. The next morning Rodney was delirious.