Comstock Harriet - Then Marched the Brave

8/12/2019 Comstock Harriet - Then Marched the Brave

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Then

Marched the Brave, by Harriet T. Comstock

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Title: Then Marched the Brave

Author: Harriet T. Comstock

Illustrator: Anna S. Hicks

Release Date: June 30, 2005 [EBook #16156

Language: English

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THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE ***

Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine

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Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

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Then Marched the

BraveBy


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Harriet T. Comstock

Author of "When the British Came,

"Molly, the Drummer Boy," etc.

llustrations by Anna S. Hicks

PHILADELPHIA

HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANYBY THE SAME AUTHOR

MOLLY, THE DRUMMER BOY

WHEN THE BRITISH CAME

Fifty cents each


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Copyright, 1904, by Henry Altemus


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"'I CAN SEE NO ONE BUT THE

GENERAL,' JANIE SAID." See

page 133.


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CONTENTS

CHAPTER I PAGE

Andy McNeal 13

CHAPTER IIA Stranger in the Night 26

CHAPTER III

The Crowning Of Andy McNeal 43CHAPTER IV

Through the Cave 62

CHAPTER VA Suspicion 74

CHAPTER VI

Then Marched the Brave 88


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CHAPTER VII

Andy Hears a Strange Talk 99

CHAPTER VIII

At Headquarters 118

CHAPTER IX

Peace 130


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ILLUSTRATIONS

"'I can see no one but the

General,' Janie said"Frontispiece

"Andy was at the oars now" 37"'Good day, my pretty

lass!'"51

"Burr ventured a question" 81

"It took all of Andy's

courage to don the female

attire"

113


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THEN MARCHED

THE BRAVE


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CHAPTER I

ANDY McNEAL

t was in the time when the king's men hahings pretty much their own way, and

mystery and plot held full sway, that ther

ived, in a little house near McGown Pas

on the upper end of Manhattan Island, widow and her lame son. She was a tal

gaunt woman of Scotch ancestry, but loya

o the land that had given her a secon

home. She was not a woman of man

opinions, but the few that she held wer

rigid, and not to be trifled with. With al

her might she hated the king, and wit


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equal intensity loved the cause o

freedom. In the depths of her nature ther

was a great feeling of shame an

disappointment that her only son was hopeless cripple, and so could not b

offered as a living sacrifice to the new

cause.

Janie McNeal held it against the good Go

hat she, His faithful servant, must b

denied the glorious opportunity of givin

her best and all, as other mothers werdoing, that the land of the free might b

wrested from cruel tyranny.

To be sure, Andy was but sixteen. Thamattered little to Janie; young as he was

she could have held him in readiness, a

did Hannah of old, until the time claime

himbut his lameness made i


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mpossible. Among all the deeds o

courage, he must stand forever apart!

Poor Janie could not conceive of bravery beyond physical strength. In he

disappointment she looked upon pal

Andy, and she sawshe hated to

acknowledge itbut she saw onlcowardice written upon every line of th

shrinking features! The patient blue eye

avoided her pitying glance. The sensitiv

mouth twitched as the boy listened to heoft-repeated laments. Janie had never see

hose eyes grow steely and keen; she ha

never seen the lips draw into firm lines, o

he slim form stiffen as the boy listened the doings of the king's soldiers. When th

neighbors came with thrilling tales o

daring done by some loved one, Jani


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made some excuse for sending the bo

upon an errand or to bed; the contrast wa

oo bitter.

And Andy, sensitive and keen from

suffering, saw through it all and shrank

not from fear or cowardice, but unselfis

ove, away from the stir and excitemenand his mother's sigh of humiliation. H

ived his life much alone; misunderstood

but silently brave. His chance woul

come. Andy never once doubted that, andhe chance would find him ready.

And so he waited while the summer o

1776 waxed hotter and hotter, and thking's men, drunken with success after th

battle of Long Island, pressed thei

advantage and impudence further, as the

waited to see what the "old fox," meanin


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Washington, meant to do next. What hi

ntentions were, no one, not even his ow

men, seemed to know; he kept them an

himself well out of sight, and the anxioupeople watched and wondered and grew

restless under the strain.

ow upon a certain July night JaniMcNeal and Andy were sitting at thei

humble meal. The door of the cottag

stood open, and the song of evening bird

made tender the quiet scene. Suddenlhurried, yet stealthy, steps startled them

Was it friend or foe?

"'Tis from a secret path, mother,whispered Andy, catching his crutch. He

knew the way the king's men came an

went, and he knew the paths hidden to al

but those who dwelt among them. Hi


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rained ear was never deceived.

"'Tis a neighbor," he murmured; "he

comes down the stream bed."Sure enough, a moment later Parso

White's wife ran in. Her face wa

haggard, and her hands outstretche

mploringly. With keen appreciation o

what might be coming, Janie McNeal pu

her in a chair, and stood guard over he

ike a gaunt sentinel.

"To bed, Andy, child," she commanded

"'tis late and you are pale. To bed!"

Andy took the crutch, and, without a wordimped to the tiny room in the loft above

Boy-like, he was consumed with curiosity

He knew that the speakers, unless the


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whispered, could be overheard, so he la

down upon his hard bed and listened. And

poor Margaret White did not whisper

Once alone with her friend, she poured ouher agony and horror.

"My Sam," she moaned, "he is dead!"

Janie and the listener above started. Fo

hree years Sam White, the erring son o

he good parson, had been a wandere

from his father's home. How, then, had hdied, and where? The news was startling

ndeed.

"Margaret, tell me all!" The firm voic

calmed the grief-stricken mother.

"He was coming home to get our blessing

He heard his country's call, when his ear


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were deaf to all others, and it aroused hi

better nature. He would not join the rank

until he had our blessing and forgiveness

Poor lad! he was coming down the pasast night, not knowing that it wa

sentineled by the enemy. He did no

answer to the command to halt, and the

shot him! Shot him like a dog, giving hino time for explanation or prayer. Oh! m

boy! my boy!"

ever while he lived would Andy forgehat tone of bitter agony.

"He's dead! My boy for whom I hav

watched and waited. Dead! ere he couloffer his brave young life on his country'

altar. Oh! woe is me, woe is me!"

For a moment there was silence, the


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Janie's voice rang out so that Andy could

hear every word.

"As God hears me, Margaret, I woulgladly give my ain useless lad, if by s

doing, yours might be reclaimed fro

death. Your sorrow is one for which there

s no comfort. To have a son to give; tohave him snatched away before th

country claimed him! Aye, woman, you

oad is, indeed, a heavy one. To think o

Andy alive, and your strong man-chilying dead! The ways of God are beyon

finding out. It grieves me sore, Margaret

hat it does. It seems a useless sacrifice

God forgive me for saying it!"

The women were sobbing together. In th

room above, Andy hid his head under th

pillow to shut out the sound. Never, in al


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his lonely life, had he suffered so keenly

Love, pride, hope, went down before th

hard words. In that time of great deeds

when the brave were marching on tvictory or death, he, poor useless cripple

was a disgrace to the mother whom h

oved.

Where could he turn for comfort? H

imped to the window, to cool his fevered

face. He leaned on the sill and looked u

at the stars. They seemed unfriendly nowand yet he and they had kept many a vigi

and they had always seemed lik

comrades in the past. Poor Andy could no

pray; he needed the touch of humasympathy.

All at once he started. There was one, jus

one who would understand. But how


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could he reach her? The women in th

room below barred his exit that way. A

heavy vine clambered over the house, an

ts sturdy branches swayed under Andy'window. No one would miss him, and to

climb down the vine was an easy tas

even for a lame boy.

Cautiously he began the descent, and in

few minutes was on the ground. He ha

managed to carry his crutch under his arm

and now, panting, but triumphant, he wenquickly on. A new courage was rising

within hima courage that often come

with despair and indifference t

consequences. No matter what happenedhe would seek his only friend.

He took to the stream bed. It was quit

dry, and the bushes grew close. No


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prowling Britisher would be likely t

challenge him there. Ah! if poor Sa

White had been as wise. Andy's face grew

paler as he remembered. For a half-milhe pattered on, then the moon, rising clea

and silvery, showed a little house near b

he stream bed and almost hidden b

vines.

Everything about the house was dark an

still. Andy paused and wondered if he had

a right to disturb even his one true friendoiselessly, he drew near, and wen

around to the back of the house. Somethin

startled him.

"Mother!" It was a young, sweet voice

and it came from the shadow of the littl

porch.


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"'Tis I, Ruth!" faltered Andy.

"You, Andy! And why! Have you heard

about our Sam!" The girl came out into thmoonshine. She was tall and strong, an

her face was very pretty.

"Yes; I've heard, Ruth;" then, coming

close, Andy poured out his misery to th

girl who had been his lifelong friend an

comrade.

She listened silently, once raising he

finger and pointing toward the house as i

o warn him against arousing the others

When he had finished there was silence. I

was not Ruth's way to plunge into reply.

"Come," she whispered presently, "I a

going to tell the bees. Hans Brickman tol


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hive." From hive to hive she went, quit

seriously repeating the sentence in sof

murmurings. Andy stood and looked, th

moonlight showing him pale and intent. Aast the deed was done, and Ruth cam

back to him and laid her firm, brown han

upon his shoulder. She was a trifle talle

han he, so she bent to speak.

"Not even your mother knows you as I do

Andy," she said. "She thinks a lame le

can cripple a brave soul; but it cannotWhy, even being a girl could not keep m

back if I saw my chance, and I tell you

Andy, your lameness may serve you well

have been thinking of that. I do nobelieve God ever wastes anything. He ca

use lame boys andeven girls. Sam wa

not wasted. The call made him brave an


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good. He was coming home a new

creature just because he had heard. When

saw him lying dead, shot by those lurkin

cowards, something grew in me here,"she touched her breast. "I have not she

one tear, but I loved him as well as th

others. Somehow I knew that since he ha

been called, it was because he had a woro do, and since he is gone I mean to b

ready to do his work. Andy, I am as strong

as a boy, but" here her eyes sought hi

"I am a girl for all that, but you and

ogether, Andy, can do Sam's work!" The

young voice shook with excitement.

"I, Ruth? Ah! do not shame me." Andy'eyes fell before the shining face.

"Shame you, Andy? I shame youI who

have loved you next best to Sam! Come


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Father has gone to bed, there will be tim

before mother returns. I want you to se

Sam."

With bated breath the two entered th

iving-room of the cottage. The place ha

been made sacred to the young hero wh

was so early called to his rest. Flowereverywhere, and among them Sam la

smiling placidly at his easily won laurels

For the first time Andy gazed upon thface of death. The gentle dignity and peac

of the once wild boy awed and thrilled th

onlooker. He was dressed in hi

Continental uniform that was unsoiled bbattle's breath, albeit, an ugly hole in th

breast showed where the gallant bloo

had flowed forth.


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"It'sit's wonderful!" gasped Andy.

"But we're not going to let him be wasted

are we Andy?" There was a cruel break ihe girl's voice. "We'll do his work, won

we? We'll show the Britishers how we

can repay, won't we, Andy?"

"Yes," breathed the boy, unable to turn hi

eyes from the noble, boyish face, that wa

ighted by the gleam of the one lamp

"we'll show them!"

"See, Andy" (Ruth had gone to a corne

cup-board and brought forth a three

cornered cap), "this is Sam's; I found it i

he bushes. Mother says I may have it.

She placed it upon Andy's head. "It jus

fits!" she exclaimed. "If the time comes

Andy, you shall wear the cap. It will b


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proof that I trust you. You will help if you

can, won't you? Promise" Andy."

"I promise, as God hears me, Ruth."n the stillness the vow sounded awesome

The two clasped hands. All the sting wa

gone. A great resolve to be ready to dare

and die made Andy strong and happy.

"Good-by, Ruth."

"Good-by, Andy, lad."

Out into the still night the boy passed. O

he way back he saw Mrs. White, but h

hid beneath a bush until she had gone byHe reached home, found the door barred

and so painfully reached his room by th

aid of the friendly vine.


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CHAPTER II

A STRANGER IN THE

NIGHT

That was to be a night of experiencesth

beginning, the real beginning of Andy'

ife; all the rest had been preparation

After reaching his room, he flung himsel

wearily upon the bed. How long he slep

he could not know, but he was suddenly

aroused by a sharp knock on the outedoor below stairs. He sat up and listened

All was still except the trickling of a near

by waterfall, which had outlived the dr

weather.


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For a moment Andy thought the knock wa

but part of a troubled dream; he waited

moment, then, to make sure, limped ove

o the stairway and peered down into throom below. A candle stood on the pine

able, and, at a chair near-by, knelt Jani

McNeal, bowed in prayer. She had heard

he knock, but not until the lonely prayewas finished would she rise. That wa

Janie's way.

A second knock, louder than the firstsounded, and with it the woman's solem

"Amen."

"Be not so hasty, stranger," she mutteredas she withdrew the bar; "learn to wait fo

your betters."

The door swung back, and into the di


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ight of the bare room stepped a tall ma

n Continental dress. His hat was in hi

hand, and he bowed before Janie as if sh

were a queen. Andy drew back. No suchstranger had ever visited them before, an

he boy gazed fascinated.

"Pardon me, my good woman," the ricvoice said; "much as I dislike disturbin

you, I fear I must crave a few hours' res

and lodging, and the service of one to row

me across the river ere break of day. have been told that you have a son."

Andy quivered.

"A lodging, sir, is yours and welcome,

Janie replied, motioning the strange

oward a chair and closing the door afte

him. "I ever keep a bed in readiness thes


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roubled times. We are loyal to the cause

and I would serve where I may. I have

son, sir, as you have heard, but, alas! no

one who can be of service. He is cripple. However, rest; you look sadly i

need of it. I will hasten to a neighbor's

mile away, and seek the service yo

desire."

"I regret to cause such trouble, but th

need is urgent. I sympathize with you i

your son's affliction. It must be a sorgrief to the lad to sit apart these stirrin

imes when young blood runs hot, and th

country calls so loudly."

Soon Janie was setting food before th

strangergood brown bread and cream

milk. Andy saw the look of suffering o

her face as she bustled about, and h


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understood. He crept back to bed heavy

hearted. Ruth was wrong; there wa

nothing for him to do.

The hot hours dragged on. Toward

morning Andy grew restless, and quietl

arose and dressed. The feeling of braver

awakened within him, and a dim thoughgrew and assumed shape in his brain. H

could row strong and well. Few knew o

his accomplishment, for his life wa

onely and the exercise and practice habeen one of his few diversions.

He knew a secret path among the rocks

which led to the river, and at the end ohe path was moored his tiny boat, th

rough work of his patient hands. Only Rut

knew of his treasure; often he and she ha

glided away from the hamlet to think thei


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houghts, or dream their young dreams.

ow, if he could arouse the strange

before his mother had summoned anotheo do the service, he might share the joy o

helping, in a small way, the great cause.

"The need is urgent," smiled the boy; "i

hat case a lame fellow might not b

despised."

He recalled the stranger's face, and hi

courage grew.

"Chances are so few!" he muttered; "

must take this one."

At the first rustling of the birds in th

rees, Andy crept down-stairs. Hi

mother's room and the guest-room bot

opened from the living-room, but Janie'


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door was closed, while the stranger's wa

ajar. Through it came the sound of low

spoken words.

"Accept the thanks of thy servant for al

bountiful mercies of the past. Guide hi

future steps. Bless our enemies, and mak

hem just. Amen."

The boy bowed his head, instinctively

Surely he had nothing to fear from such

man. He went nearer and tapped lightly ohe door. Light as was the touch, th

stranger started.

"Come!" There was a welcome in th

word. Andy stepped cautiously inside.

"Good-morning, sir."

"The same to you, my lad." The keen eye


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softened as they fell upon the rude crutch

"How can I serve you!"

"Sir, I have come to offer my services toyou. I heard you tell my mother that yo

needed some one to row you across th

river. I am a good rower."

The man looked puzzled. "You are the

widow's son? Is not the task too great?"

"My lameness does not hinder much. I us

he crutch mainly to hasten my steps; I ca

walk without it. I am very strong in othe

ways. I think I am just beginning to fin

out how strong I am, myself. None know

he woods better than I. I can take you by

short cut to the river, and I have my ow

boat moored and ready. It will be a smal

matter to reach the opposite shore b


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sunrise if we start at once." Andy wa

panting with excitement. "Pray, sir, let me

do this; there are so few chances for suc

as I."

The listener smiled kindly.

"You are just the guide I need," he said

and Andy knew there was no flattery in th

words. "I must leave it for you to than

your good mother for her hospitality.

have been ready for an hour. Lead on, mboy!"

Silently they stole from the house. Th

birds twittered as they passed, for the tal

man touched the lower boughs an

disturbed the nestlings.

"Bend low," whispered Andy, "the way


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eads through small spaces."

On they went, sometimes creeping unde

he hanging rocks, always clinging to thshelter of trees and bushes. They bot

knew the danger that might lie near in th

form of a British sentinel.

"The path seems untrodden by foot o

man," murmured the stranger, pausing to

draw in a long breath. "You are a

wonderful guide."

"I think no one else knows the way," Andy

whispered, proudly; "an Indian showed i

o me when I was a child. He was m

good friend, he taught me also to row, and

shoot with both arrow and gun. He said

should know Indian tricks because of m

ameness. They might help where strengt


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failed. He showed me how to creep

noiselessly and find paths. I have trails al

over the woods. There is one that lead

right among the Britishers; and they neveknow. I do this for sport."

The stranger looked sharply at the glidin

form ahead.

"Paths such as this all over the woods?

he repeated. "And have you kept thisthi

sport secret?"

"That I have!" laughed Andy. "I tell you

now because you are upon your country'

service. I trust you, and I thought perhap

t might help sometime." The two move

forward for a moment in silence, the

Andy laughed in a half-confused way.


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"A boy gets lonely at times," he said; "h

must do something to while away theth

years. I have practiced and made believ

until I am a pretty good Indian. I makbelieve that I am guiding the grea

Washington. They do say he eve

remembers a favor. I should love to serv

him. Had I been like other boys" thvoice broke"I would have been as nea

him as possible by this time!"

The hand of the stranger was upon thyouth's shoulder. Andy turned in alarm.

"You have a secret which may save you

country much!" breathed the deep voice"guard it with your life. But if one come

from Washington seeking your aid, do

whatever he asks, fearlessly."


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"How would I know such an one?" gaspe

Andy.

"That will I tell you later." Again theforward tramp.

"And you have passed, unnoticed, th

British line! 'Tis a joke almost beyond

belief!" chuckled the stranger. "I should

ike to see my Lord Howe's face were h

o hear this."

"Oh! be silent, sir!" cautioned the guide

"we come to an open space."

Once again beneath the heavy boughs, th

boy said:

"I passed the line but yesterday. And

heard that which has troubled me, sorely

yet I could do nothing. But" here Andy


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paused and turned sharply"bend down

Should you know Washington were you to

see him?"

"Aye, lad." The two heads were pressed

close.

"Would you bear a message, and try to

find him?"

"Aye."

"They are planning an attack. I could nohear when or where, for the men move

past. As they came back, and passed

where I was hidden, I heard them say tha

hey who are near Washington had best beon watch, poison in the food made no suc

noise as a gunbut it would serve!"

"You heard that?" almost moaned the


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istener. "My God! could they plan such

cowardly thing?"

"Aye, sir. I am thinking they can. I wouldwarn the General if I could, but you ma

be luckier. The men said Lord How

desired the death of every rebel."

"May heaven forgive him!" The words fel

sadly from the strong lips.

"And now," again Andy took the lead, "do

not speak as we pass here. It is the spo

where they shot our pastor's boy, only two

days ago. I fear the place. A few rod

beyond, we will again strike the thicke

and be under cover until we reach th

river."

The solemn quiet that precedes a ho


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summer dawn surrounded the man an

boy. The red band broadened in the east

The birds, fearing neither friend nor foe

began to challenge the stillness with theiglad notes, and so guide and followe

passed the gruesome place where youn

Sam White gave up his untried life a few

short days ago. The thicket gained, the twpaused for breath.

"We must not talk in the boat, sir." They

had reached the moored boat now. "Praell me how I am to know our General'

messenger."

"By this." The stranger detached a charfrom a hidden chain and held it in his pal

so that the clearer light fell upon it. "

command you to learn its peculiaritie

well. There must be no blunder."


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"ANDY WAS AT THE OARS

NOW."

"We shall meet againcomrade!Washington was smiling and the mis

passed. "Never fear death, lad, if you ar

doing your duty; it comes but once. Row

swiftly. Day is breaking. A messengewith a horse awaits me on the furthe

shore. Head for Point of Cedars."

"Good-by, sir; I shall never fear anythinagainafter this, I think. Good-by!" And

was at the oars now. He handled them lik

he master that he was. The old Indian ha

aught well, and the apt pupil had beemaking ready against this day and chance.

While Andy kept Point of Cedars in view

he saw, also, the noble figure in the stern


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The keen eyes kept smiling in kindl

fashion, while the firm lips kept thei

accustomed silence. To Andy, the future

was as rosy as the dawn, and he wonderehat he had ever been depressed an

afraid.

"Death comes but once!" kept ringing ihis thoughts; "it shall find me doing m

duty. God and Washington forever!" The

song of the times had found a resting-plac

n Andy McNeal's heart at last.

Point of Cedars was safely reached. Th

general stepped upon the pebbly beach

Almost at once, from among the bushesappeared a young man in ragge

Continental uniform, leading a large

white horse.


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Without a word Washington mounted

nodded his thanks to the messenger, and

final farewell to Andy, then he, followed

by his newer guide, faded from sighamong the forest-trees. Standin

bareheaded and alone upon the shore

Andy watched until the last sound of th

hoof-beats died away, then, with a sigh ohope and memory mingled, he retraced hi

way.

Janie McNeal greeted her son at the doorway. "Andy!" she cried, "our guest i

gone!" She quite forgot that Andy

presumably, knew nothing of the guest

"He desired a lad to row him across thriver. I was going to neighbor Jones's a

early dawn to summon James. I shoul

have gone last night, but I was sore tired


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When I arose this morning, the strange

was gone. God forgive me!

"The poor gentleman must have thought ma heedless body. I trust he will not thin

me in league with the Britishers; there i

much of that sort of thing going on." Jani

shook her head dolefully, not heedinAndy's smile.

"How do we know," she went on, "but tha

he gentleman was on the greaWashington's business? He was an

overgrand body himself, and had excellen

manners."

"Mother!" the old hesitating tone crep

back unconsciously into Andy's voice a

he faced his mother; "mother, I rowed th

stranger across the river, he issafel


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anded. ItwasitwasWashington

himself!"

"Andy!" Janie flung up her hands, annearly fell from the step; "think, lad, o

your words. You look and talk clean daft.

"ItwasWashington!" The boy drew

he words out with a delicious memory.

"Andyourowedhimacross! You

mypoorlame lad! God have merc

upon me, and forgive me for my doubts!"

"I can help a little, mother." Andy drew

near the quivering figure. "I know, mother

and I do not wonder, but there is a placfor every one in these days, and I'm goin

o be ready."

Janie drew herself up, and put a tremblin


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hand on the young shoulder. "Son!" sh

said, with a sudden but intense pride

"son, get ready, we go to Sam White'

burying, you and I. God be praised! blinas I was, He has opened my eyes to se

my son at last!" This was a great deal fo

Janie McNeal to say, but it did its work.


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CHAPTER III

THE CROWNING OF ANDY

McNEAL

Sam White's burial was a very simpl

affair. In that time of need and anxiety me

were off upon their country's business

Few could stay to mourn. The pasto

himself read the simple service in a voic

of pride, broken by a father's grief. H

said that God would not let the sacrificpass unheeded. Since Sam had heard th

call, and then had been so suddenly take

away, another would be raised up to do

his work; another who, through Sam, migh


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be touched more than in any other way.

Andy, standing in the little group about th

open grave, at this raised his eyes, and hfound Ruth's wide, tearless gaze fixe

upon him. Andy smiled bravely back a

her, for his heart was strong within him.

After it was over and the few neighbor

gone, Andy and Ruth remained to scatte

flowers upon the young hero's bed, an

cover up the bareness of the place.

"Ruth," said Andy in a whisper, "I think

my chance has come!"

"Your chance, Andy?"

"Aye. I have been thinking that Sam'

being taken has aroused me, and given m

courage, just as your father said, andan


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ast night the chance began!" Then he tol

her of much that had occurred. Ruth knel

among the flowers, her young fac

glowing.

"Oh! I shall have some one to watch," sh

panted, "some one to help while he works

Oh! Andy, you do not know how I long tohelp, and be part of this great time. I go o

ong walks, and I hear and see so much

Down on the Bowery I heard a group sa

he other day that General Washington wagoing to burn the town and order th

people to flee. One man said, did he orde

such a thing, he, for one, would go over t

he British; and, Andy, there was a greashout from the other men! I felt my hear

burn, for did our General order me to go

hen would I go whither and where h


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ordered; nor would I question, so great i

my trust in him. And did he burn all, even

my home, yet would I gladly obey, for

would know he was doing wisely. Sogreatly do I honor him that I think, next t

God, I trust our General!"

The young face glowed and quivered, anAndy, with the spirit of hero-worship

growing upon his recent experiences

panted in excitement as she spoke.

"I, too, would follow, and neve

question," he said. "Never fear, Ruth

what the General expects of me, that will

do. Not even death do I fearit comes buonce!" The boyish voice rang clear.

Suddenly, Ruth started toward the house

"Wait," she said, "I have something fo


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you." She was back in a moment, bearin

Sam's cap. "The time has come," sh

faltered, and there were tears in her eyes

"II want to crown you, Andy McNeal.She removed Andy's rough cap and

replaced it with Sam's.

"I'll keep the old one," she said, "andand if you should fail to do bravely, yo

can have your own!" Then she dashe

away the tears. "Forgive me, And

McNeal!" she sobbed; "you will nevefail. There is hero blood in your body,

know, and it may be that your lamenes

will aid you in accomplishing tasks that

usty lad could never attempt."

Andy raised his head proudly and the new

crown set not badly on his boyish curls.


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"I must go," he breathed. "I will com

every day unlessyou know, Ruth?"

The girl nodded, and so they partesilently, Ruth pressing the old hat to he

aching heart, and taking up the woman'

part in those troubling times; the part o

he watching, waiting one.

The days following became filled wit

one longing for Andy. The longing fo

Washington's messenger. Unless he camesoon, the boy feared that he would be to

ate. During his own recent exploration

beyond the lines, he heard much tha

warned him that the British were planninsomething of grave importance.

Andy had told his mother and Ruth nothin

of Washington's anticipated messenger


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They knew merely that Andy had ferried

he great General across the riverwa

hat not enough? Had they known for wha

he boy was eagerly watching, they coulnot have done their own daily tasks.

"He has an eager, watchful air," Janie

confided to Ruth. "I am thinking the laexpects the General to pass this wa

again. Lightning andsuch happenings d

not strike twice in the same spot."

Ruth smiled gently. "I do not think Andy

walks as lame as he did," she mused

watching the boy disappearing down

woody path.

"He is always on the go," Janie broke in

"He practices walking without his crutc

more than I think wise; but one can d


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ittle with men-folk!" Janie tossed he

head proudly. Andy was a growing deligh

o her.

"It may do him good," Ruth added; "h

ooks stronger andand gladder."

"He has gone beyond me," the mothe

sighed. "II begin to know, lass, th

happy feeling a mother has when her hear

aches with loneliness andand pride

What ails you, lass?" For Ruth had starteand given a short cry.

"Whywhy" laughed the girl, "I a

hinking my eyes are playing me false.

was watching Andy up the path, and I saw

him as clear as I see you this minutean

hen he was gone!"


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"Do not get flighty, Ruth." Janie cam

close, however, and peered up the path

"You and Andy will drive me daft. The

path is a straight, clean one; had Andbeen on it, he would still be in sight. I'

hinking he turned before he came to th

brook bed. You did not notice, but you

houghts kept agoing on."

"Perhaps," nodded Ruth, but Janie knew

she was unconvinced.

On her way home soon after, Ruth began

o ponder. Once clear of Janie's observan

eye, the girl turned back through th

shrubbery, and ran to the spot where shhad last seen Andy. All was as silent as a

breathless summer day could make i

There was no side-path; no broken bushes


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"He washere," breathed the girl, "and h

disappeared like a flash!"

Then she knelt down and tried to tracfootprints in the mossy earth. "Ah!" sh

smiled, for there was a crushed space a

he edge of a brambly cluster of bushes

She quietly drew aside the branches, and ook of wonder grew in the bright eyes. S

cunningly concealed, that even her native

bred keenness might never have espied i

ay a path, and among the bushes, Andy'crutch! Should she follow? In the old day

Ruth would not have paused. But thes

were not play-days; Andy might be upo

grave business. Reverently she drew backand replaced the disorder she had cause

among the parted leaves. Suddenly a step

startled her. She turned sharply. Up the


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path came a British soldier, whistling

gay tune and eyeing her boldly.

More than once had Ruth encounterehese most ungallant gentlemen, and sh

was alert at resenting any familiarity, but

fear grew in her heart now. Andy's path

must not be discovered! She must do hepart.

"Good-day, my pretty lass!" The ma

halted. Under ordinary circumstances Rutwould have taken to her fleet feet at this

but Andy might return too soon, and

emerge while yet the enemy coul

discover him.

"Berrying?" grinned the fellow; "August i

early for berries, is it not? The man wa

suspicious, perhaps, and Ruth was o


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guard.

"For some kinds," she answered, lightly.

"What kind are you hunting?"

"One that you British do not know," sh

replied; "it's a kind that grows only i

America and thrives upon freedom."

The soldier leered unpleasantly. "Come,

will help you hunt," he cried; "if we find

berry I cannot name, you may ask whareward you choose, and if I succeed the

will I take a kiss from your red lips, eh

my girl?"

Ruth darted an angry look upward. If the

hunted, the cane would be discovered, an

yet if she refusedwell, she must ac

quickly.


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"Is it a bargain?"

"Yes;" the word came bravely from a

rembling courage.


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"'GOOD DAY, MY PRETTY

LASS.'"

The two knelt and began the search. Rutpressed the bushes so as to cover Andy'

cane, but as her keen eyes fell upon th

spot where it had been, to her surprise an

oy, she saw that it was gone!

A cry broke from her, for, as she realized

hat that danger was past, she saw, near a

hand, a plant so rare even to her woodlaneyes, that it was precious. Thanks to he

earned father, she knew its name, and th

spray of waxen berries was her salvation

"See!" she cried, "you have brought goo

uck. 'Tis a rare find. Now I pray you, sir

name the berry I hold in my hand."


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The man was searching the underbrush

and turned half angrily. "What have you?

he snarled. Ruth knew that Andy was near

but no breath was heard.

"Name the berry, sir, or I claim my

advantage!" Ruth stood upright with th

spray in her hand.

"Wintergreen," ventured the fellow

wildly.

"Wrong!" sneered Ruth, "and there is no

second trial."

"How can you prove me wrong?" jeere

he man, coming insolently close; "who io decide?"

"Your head officer, sir," flashed Ruth

"lead on, I will gladly leave it to him


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After he has heard the tale from mefro

me, markI will leave it to him. Perhap

here is one gentleman in the king's troops

Lead on! Why stand staring when youstake is so high!" A dignity and

fearlessness came to the angry girl.

"Do you lead, or shall I?" she asked.

"II beg your pardon!" cringed th

fellow, "I will abide by your decision."

"Go, then!" cried Ruth, her tempe

breaking bounds, "and if you are a sampl

of my Lord Howe's men, I am thinking ou

General will have but a short tussle. Go!"

The man retraced his steps, sulkily. H

had been foraging on his own account, an

had unearthed bigger game than he coul


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manage.

Ruth watched the man until he passed fro

sight. As she turned about she faced Andysitting among the bushes. She jumped, the

aughed nervously.

"How did you get your cane?" she asked.

"I was not six feet away." Andy's voice

was strangely calm. "I hope you know

Ruth," he faltered, 'that had things turne

out differently, I would have been with

you. You know that?"

"Yes, Andy." A flush came to the pale

face. "I think I feared you would commore than anything else. But I do not trus

hat fellow. He will come back. I know h

was suspicious. Choose another way


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next time!"

"Aye, and I'll stop up this trail. Good-by

Ruth. Hurry, I will wait until you are safeand this passage made harmless."

For a few days longer Andy remained

near home, not caring to run the risk o

seeking the longer path of which he knew

while the Britisher's suspicions might stil

be alert. Once or twice he had met th

fellow on the public highway, and hfeared to arouse any further cause fo

watchfulness. He had discovered, also

hat the man had gone back to the spo

where he had encountered Ruth, but Andaughed, when he recalled how cunningl

he had hidden the trail. But now the bo

could wait no longer, he must try to ge

near the lines and listen.


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Taking the longer way, he left his crutch

hidden inside a cave-like opening. H

would never again trust the outside. The

n true Indian fashion he crept alonhrough the rocky passage. He reached th

other end and for an hour or more waite

patiently, but only the passing of a lonel

sentinel rewarded him, and he guessehat no news would come that way.

He dared not emerge from his shelter, fo

he day was too bright and clear, thsentinel would surely spy him, and bette

no news than to give away the secret o

he passage. Disappointedly he crept back

and at the other end put his hancautiously forth to grasp his crutch. The

he became instantly aware that he wa

discovered, for his hand was grasped in


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firm, unyielding clutch.

Andy's heart stood still. He had no doub

but that Ruth's annoyer had dogged histeps and had captured him. But there wa

ittle of the coward about Andy; he would

face the worst. He pushed through th

angle of leaves, trying to free his handbut the clasp was like iron. The capto

was not the Britisher, but a man of quit

another sort. He was young, handsome

splendidly formed. As he lay at full lengtupon the moss Andy thought he had neve

seen so tall a man. He wore velvet knee

breeches, long blue coat, and a wide

brimmed hat, which shielded a pair ofriendly, laughing eyes. One glance and

Andy lost all fear.

"Now that you have come from your hole


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you young mole, good-morning to you, an

where have you fared?" The voice wa

ringing and full of cheer.

"Good-morning, sir," Andy made answer.

"And where have you fared?"

"That I cannot tell you, sir."

"You cannot tell me!" the man sighed

mpatiently. "Now, do you know, for a

moment I fancied that you were just thad who could guide me over you

nteresting island. What with all thi

excitement, a peaceful traveler has n

show above-ground. I hoped you mighead me mole-fashion."

"I will gladly show you through the pass

sir, as far as the gate a mile or so below."


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"As far as the gate! Always as far a

something! I want to go beyond'as far

What care I for countersigns an

passports. I want the freedom of thsland, and a chance to study its rocks an

flowers and very interesting weeds. Boy

often know paths unknown to any one els

except Indians!"

"But I am a lame boy much dependen

upon a crutch."

"You can dispense with it at times,

aughed the stranger. "For a good two

hours you did without it to-day. It and

have been keeping company. I followedyou at a distance, thinking easily t

overtake you, when piff! you were gone

and I and the crutchfor you see

searched the holewere alone!"


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For some moments Andy's hand had bee

free, and now as he looked at the speake

he saw that he was holding in his ope

palm the charm which last he had behelhat glorious morning by the riverside.

With a glad cry he sprang up. "I am Andy

McNeal!" he said, and he doffed Sam'hat, which was his only martia

possession.

"And Iam the schoolmaster!"

The two clasped hands. That was th

beginning. Through the following days th

master abode in Janie's house. The goo

woman asked no questions. Her curiosit

burned and burned, but wisdom held it i

check. Enough that Andy was th

companion of this mighty person. Enoug


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hat her humble roof sheltered him, an

her able hands served him faithfully. I

was wonderful, andenough. Ruth, too

hrobbed with excitement, but went heways calmly as if it were a commo

enough thing for a splendid schoolmaste

o suddenly undertake Andy's neglected

education, and pay for his lodging anboard by instructing the hostess's son.

This was what was going on. Book i

hand the two walked abroad quite openlySometimes it would be rocks or flower

hey were bent upon understanding, a

other times the intricacies of the Englis

anguage were the paths they followedOccasionally Ruth would be asked to joi

n the walks and talks, but oftener the

were alone. There were real lessons


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Andy pondered upon them deeply, and hi

hungry mind fed upon the feast. Of course

so fine a master walking abroad with th

ame boy, aroused the notice of thsentinels, but to their questions h

answered so glibly, that there remained

nothing to do but ask more. The gam

became tiresome.

The tutor and his pupil kept withi

bounds, so there was no excuse fo

nterference. But one day, quite lost iabstraction, the two passed beyond th

gate at the end of the pass, and strolle

down the road patroled by the British

Suddenly a loud "Halt!" made Andy jumpA look of surprise passed over th

master's face as a bayonet was thrust i

front of him.


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The soldier was the one who had accoste

Ruth; Andy knew him at once.

"Dear me! dear me!" cried the masterquerulously, "after seeing us pass to and

fro so often, one would not think i

necessary to resort to such rudeness. Pray

good fellow, is not this his Majesty'highway, and free to all?"

"No," grumbled the sentinel, lowering hi

weapon; "what's your business?"

"Schoolmaster."

"I do not mean that. I see you proddin

around rocks and weeds with your nosen books, but I want to know what yo

mean on this road?"

"I desire to take a walk on it. I have n


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weapon, I am a peaceful person. May

pass?"

"You better turn back. This road isentineled all the way to camp. You're too

simple to go alone. You are an

American?"

"Certainly. Born and bred in th

colonies."

"A rebel?"

"Sir!"

"A rebel, I say?"

"I am loyal to the heart's core!" the maste

replied. "Come, Andy, the way back i

doubtless more pleasant for peaceful fol

han the way before. Conjugate to live


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Andy."

Once beyond sight and hearing of the foe

he master bared his head. "Loyal we areand we know to whom! But how long i

akes to disarm their doubts!"


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CHAPTER IV

THROUGH THE CAVE

That same night, as Andy lay sleeping, strange sound startled him. In an instant h

was out of bed, and limping toward th

window. Again came the plaintive sound

t was some one mimicking a night-owand doing it very badly, as the boy's tru

ear detected at once.

Andy replied, in a much better imitationhen, from out the shrubbery beneath th

window, the master stepped forth in th

moonlight. He beckoned to the boy, and

hen moved back into the shadow of th


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rees.

Always, with Andy, there was the struggle

between the quick, alert mind and willand the weaker body. However, with

rembling fingers, he dressed as rapidly a

possible, gladly remembering that h

could reach the ground by the vine, thusaving time, and making sure that hi

mother would not be disturbed.

n a few moments he was ready. Hdropped his crutch cautiously from th

window, and began to descend himself

The man among the shadows did no

move, though his expectant eyes were ohe watch. Andy, keeping well in the

shelter of the shade, reached his friend.

"That fellow we met to-day was prowlin


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about the house an hour ago," whispere

he master; "he looked boldly into m

window. I was awake and saw hi

features distinctly, though I fancy hhought me unconscious. I saw him leav

by the stream path. He thinks me safe fo

o-night, but they are suspicious, thos

Britishers, and you and I must get throughe passage to their lines to-night.

believe something is afoot, and they do no

wish to run any chances. Lead on, Andy

McNeal; before break of day I must know

all, all that is possible, and be away."

"Follow!" said Andy, trembling with

excitement, but losing no time. Down upoha nd s and knees they went, and n

creatures of the wood and night coul

have been more silent.


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"All's well!" came from a far-off sentry

and the man and boy breathed quicker. A

moment of rest at the opening of the cave

ike path where Andy and the master hadfirst met, then into the narrow gloo

oward the danger line.

"The way is narrow," whispered Andy"but it leads out just behind the Britis

ents."

"Ah! for Vulcan's hammer!" laughed thmaster softly; "I'd hew me a broader path

Andy. The width of me suffers sorely fo

he cause." Andy smiled in the darkness

The mirth in the master's voice gavcourage.

"It is broader further on," encouraged th

guide.


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"God be praised for that!" groaned th

man as he came in contact again with th

rocks.

The crutch had been left at the entrance

well hidden. Hands and knees were al

hat were needed on that journey. Once

slimy creature crawled across the master'hand, and he uttered an exclamation.

"Don't do that again!" breathed Andy, in

alarm.

The minutes seemed endless, and th

progress very slow. The darkness was so

ntense that it was something of a shock t

he master when he suddenly becam

aware that he could see the outline of hi

guide's body. There was a small openin

ahead, and a gleam of moonlight shot in


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either spoke. If the British sentry wa

beyond there was every need of stillnes

now.

"I hear steps!" said Andy in a breath

"listen!"

The duller ear of the master heard n

sound for a moment, then slowly an

alarmingly near, he didcatch the sound o

he measured tread of a soldier, and, fro

he opposite direction evidently, a secondman. Near the opening the two met.

"Fine night, Martin; everything quiet?"

"Quiet? Lord, yes! If something does nohappen soon, I swear I'll cut and run. I

wouldn't take a great deal to make me quit

The pluck of the rebels rather tickles me


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've half a mind to toss my luck amon

hem, and stand or fall with the colonies."

"Better change your mind," laughed thother; "something's going to happen an

hat pretty quick."

"Is that hearsay, Norton, or authentic? I'v

ust come into camp. I've been having

picnic over on Long Islandraiding farm

and doing a lot of dirty work that sicken

me. Clean fighting is what I set out to doand gad! this kind of thing turns a fellow'

stomach. We've been fed on the talk tha

hese rebels are cowards. Cowards, bah

And as for that big, silent general oheirs, hehe rather appeals to me!"

"Don't be white-livered, Martin!" sneere

orton. "You may get some cold stee


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from your own countrymen for utterin

such sentiments. My information is al

right, it comes from his lordship himself

Washington is too dangerous to leaveonger alone; should he find outwha

was that?"

The master, less a child of the woods thaAndy, in his excitement had tried to creep

closer, and the quick ear of the sentine

had noticed the sound.

"It is this accursed spot again!" muttere

orton; "twice lately I could have sworn

heard breathing among the bushes. I'v

beaten every inch of ground, and not iving creature have I found. I'm no

squirmish, and a rebel now and then don

count, butwell, you know I brought tha

parson's cub down a bit further back


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Lord! how the fellow strutted, and when

called to him he started like a stuck pig.

cannot forget the look on his face asas

fired.

"I'm agreeing with you, Martin, clea

fighting or nothing. I'm not up to thi

slaughtering of infants myself. I halexpect to see that baby playing in th

moonlight every time a leaf rustles a

night." The man laughed uneasily. "Once

fancied I saw a facea pale boy-faceshining in the bushes. Lord, it gave me

urn!"

"Could there be a secret passage?" askeMartin in a low voice. "A fellow named

Godkin told me an hour ago that he had hi

eye on a lame chap and a gawk of

schoolmaster who were always skulkin


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around close to the ground. He says th

boy lives hereabouts and knows th

woods like a snake."

"No fool rebel could keep such a secre

from me. Godkin likes to talk an

swagger. He feels his oats. Come, just to

pass the time, let's beat the bushes."

"Back out!" breathed Andy. There was no

ime to be lost. But the backwar

movement was most painfully slow. Thmen tramping in the bushes, feeling th

hing but child-play, laughed and talked

oudly.

"How many men has the old fox!" aske

Martin, giving a cut to the bushes with hi

gun.


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"Twelve thousand, though he gives ou

many more."

"He's got grit," rejoined Martin, "with mord gripping his throat at close quarter

with double that number at his heels, t

stand still and calm asas this rock! Gad

nearly broke my gun! This land producemore rocks than anything else. I hear

Washington is planning to get on Long

sland again."

"He'll never get there. My Lord Howe

what in thunder!" Norton had slipped an

fallen, and as he lay so, his face was on

evel with the opening in the rocks!

"Come here!" he gasped. "Got a light

There's a hole here."


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Martin struck a light and peered in. As h

did so Andy's white, horrified fac

gleamed forth from the shadow. Without a

word the head was withdrawn, and botAndy and the master knew that the man, o

both men, would follow at once.

"They are big!" moaned Andy, "and theydo not know the way as we do. Oh

hurry!"

The master feared that the sentinel woulfire into the cave, but as the momen

passed, and he did not, he took heart, an

crept backward as fast as he could. The

came the sure sound of the chase. One oboth had entered the passage! They ha

his advantage; they could come straigh

on, while the pursued were goin

backward, the master, being the bulkie


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and more uncertain, barring Andy'

smaller body.

"For our lives!" almost sobbed the boy.The oncoming foe once or twice struck

ight, but the curving of the passage hid th

prey. However, the sound ahead wa

enough to guide the Britishers. The

suddenly the master became wedged, an

he leader of the pursuers came so nea

hat Andy fancied he felt his breath.

"I don't hear the little scamp!" muttere

orton; "perhaps the passage divides

Wait until I strike a light." In that instan

he master extricated himself, and wit

desperate haste the two backed along

while the light flickered, and then wen

out, much to the dismay of the foe.


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"Hurry!" commanded Norton; "I hear hi

again; don't fool with the light!" The hea

man and Andy were not a yard apart now

and the narrowest of the passage was yeo come!

The master realized this, too. He knew i

he were to get wedged again all would bover, and Andy was the one nearest the

enemy! He paused and Andy came i

violent contact with him. The leadin

Britisher was upon them! The form behinAndy darted forth an arm of steely muscle

and a terrific blow fell sure and sudden o

he face of the British sentinel!

"My God!" screamed the fellow, and "Th

devil!" echoed from his companion.

"Now!" whispered the master, "this is ou


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ast fling!"

t was over at last. The entrance wa

gained. Taking no time to consider howspent Andy was, the master began to pil

rocks at the opening. It took not overlong

for the mouth of the cave was small.

"So!" almost laughed the master in hi

relief, "before my British friend gets hi

senses back, the way is barred. Good

Here, Andy, lad, give me your hand. Tohe house, and to bed. Ere daybreak I mus

be well away from here. They ar

planning an attack at once, and I know

where I can get the plans, methinks. Thafellow saw you, and there is no furthe

chance for me here."

"Youyou are going?" Andy, leaning on


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he master and his crutch, was makin

good headway. "The man saw only me

surely you can stay in safety."

"Andy, do you think the fellow thought yo

dealt that blow?" The clear laugh wa

stifled. "No; we are marked men. But I a

on the right course now. Washington shalsoon have the papers he needs."

"Where do you go?" whispered Andy

"can I not be of use?"

"Not now, my friend, and if we never mee

again, Andy McNeal, remember whom w

have both served well, and that you hav

made brighter for me many a weary hour.

care not what the thoughtless may think o

me, but I would have you know that wha

he future holds of seeming dishonor an


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shame, I assumed in truest loyalty.

"From what I am to do, others shrank.

saw but one way, though, God knows, mheart was wrung. I reserve nothing. Eve

what seems my honor I give to my countr

and Washington!"

The master and Andy stood still in th

moonlight, and the two young face

gleamed white and troubled. "Good-nigh

and farewell. Thank your mother." He wagone.

Andy painfully and slowly climbed th

stairs and entered his bedroom.

His heart was very heavy. He had seemed

on the verge of doing a great service, an

behold, the chance had fled.


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105/224

CHAPTER V

A SUSPICION

September dragged wretchedly. Therwas no need of stealing among the bushe

for news or amusement.

ndeed, Andy wisely concluded that tokeep to the open, innocent ways would b

he only possible thing that could help th

absent master.

He missed the lessons and the excitin

comradeship, too; the contrast wa

painful. Janie saw, but questioned not. I

was all beyond her. Ruth was the onl


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relief.

"Fear not, Andy," she would say. "You

must bide your time, and wait patientlyTis what Washington is doing. Copy your

General in this, as well as other things

One may serve in that way as well as i

others. You should hear the tales HansBrickman tells of the doings in the patrio

camp. He carries eggs and honey, yo

know.

"He says that Washington isn't just fighting

or holding in check the king's men; but hi

own troops are acting shamefully

hreatening to desert, and begging fomoney; complaining all day long. Oh! if

were a soldier I would show them!" Th

girl flung her strong young arms above he

head, and brought down her clenched fist


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n a laughably vehement way.

"And there sits that great General, neve

flinching, but writing to Congress to pahe babies; and calming the tyrants wit

one breath, and shaming them int

obedience with the next.

"Hans says he dashes at them sometime

with his sword, and slaps the raw recruit

nto shape, telling them that if they ru

when he orders them to advance, he'lshoot them himself. There's a man fo

you!"

"Indeed there is a man," nodded Andy, an

his face grew brighter. "And I should cry

shame to myself because I am so impatien

of this lameness which holds me back."


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"Holds you back! Andy McNeal, that i

rank ingratitude. You've been up to some

mighty doings, that I know, or you would

not be hungering for more glory. Oh, I cansee a bit ahead of my nose. Time wa

when you hung around, not knowing glor

because it had not come your way. You've

asted it, Andy, and your thirst grows. know a thing or two. You're getting strong

oo, Andy; you're an inch taller than I

Father mentioned the fact this ver

morning. You're taking on airs, bu

remember, I knew you when you were les

a man. Have a care; a woman has

ongue. I'll be calling you down if yocarry things with too high a hand."

Andy laughed and stood straighter. Then

very quietly:


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"Andy, what was the master's name?"

"Ruth, I do not know."

"Do not, or will not tell?"

"I do not know."

"Can you tell me why he stayed here?"

"I cannot tell you, Ruth. Why do you ask?

The girl paused and dropped her clea

eyes."They do say, the whisper has reached my

father, that he was a spy, andand a

dangerous one!"

"They lie!" said Andy, hotly; "he, a spy!

Then the boyish voice fell. The last, sa

alk under the stars came clearly back, an


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n the shock of the memory the bo

rembled.

Ruth watched him closely. "I'm not overcurious," she faltered, "but I fear for you

f heif he were a spy you were see

with him far too often for your good

Father even feared for me."

"Ruth" (Andy's voice had a new tone), "

can believe no dishonor of the master, and

am proud that I walked with him and wahis friend!"

"Aye" (Ruth looked doubtful), "but a spy

s not a good thing, Andy, no matter wha

shape it takes."

Old, rigid training held them both, bu

Andy must defend his friend, though th


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honest soul of Ruth shone from her eyes

and challenged him.

"It is as a thing is used," he began, lamelybut seeing his way dimly.

"Father does not preach that," Ruth brok

n.

"No; nor would I preach it," sighed Andy.

"But you would act it?" Ruth flashed.

"I donot know. I cannot think the maste

was aught but honest. If he werewer

" Andy could not use the hard word

"if he were finding things out, you mabe sure, Ruth, it was not for his ow

uplifting. If he gave what other men woul

callwould call their honorit wa

because he held not even that from hi


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country. I canseehowthat could

be!"

Ruth raised her eyes. "Could you, Andy?she said.

"Yes. I could give it as I could my life.

would take no recompense, I would jus

give, and do anything. Ruth, suppose yo

knew a truth aboutaboutwell, abou

me; a truth that, if it were known, woul

be the death of me. Would you tell, orowould you save me?"

t was a rigid moment for the stern littl

maid. Her eyes fell, then were raise

again.

"Idonotknow," she panted, "but

ie is a lie, and I should expect to b


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punished."

"So should I for any dishonorable thing,

agreed Andy. "That is just it, but it wouldbe my willingness to do it, and then t

suffer, that makes the difference."

The two were standing near the end of th

Pass at a small gate, and as Andy ceased

speaking a sound smote their ears tha

urned them pale. It was the sound of man

horsemen galloping wildly onward.

"The king's men landed at Kip's Bay thi

morning," gasped Andy, clutching the gate

"and they do say that Douglass's men ar

not strong enough to defend the point."

t was Putnam's five brigades; the boy an

girl only knew they were patriot troops


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They had been ordered by Washington to

make for Manhattanville before retrea

was cut off.

Young Aaron Burr was acting as guide

The master had once pointed him out t

Andy, and the boy remembered the fac

well. Boldly and fearlessly he was ridingand Andy's voice broke into a cheer as h

recognized the noble face. The leader

halted. There were several roads ahead

which was safest and quickest? Burventured a question.

"Which way leads most directly t

Manhattanville?" he said.

"Keep close to the river, and make fo

Kingsbridge, Colonel," Andy answered

"That road is not so carefully watched; i


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s rougher but safer."

Burr gave him a smile, then gallope

ahead. The last weary stragglers werbarely out of sight, when again the soun

of on-coming horsemen broke th

stillness.

"These are king's men!" groaned Ruth

who had stood rigidly silent until now

"Ah! Andy, and the others so little in

advance!"

Constantly blowing their bugles an

shouting derisively after the fleein

patriots, my Lord Howe's men advanced.

"'Tis a rare fox-hunt!" laughed one.

"But the fox and his mates are out of sight

my lord," cried another.


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"For the moment. The ways divide a few

rods beyond. Did the rebels pass thi

way?" asked an officer noticing Andy and

Ruth.


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"BURR VENTURED A

QUESTION."

"Yes, sir!" answered Ruth, promptly, andfor a moment Andy sickened at what h

feared she was about to do. It was to

ate, though, for him to interfere.

"Which road did they take?"

The instant's pause seemed an eternity t

Andy. Then calmly and with clear

uplifted eyes:

"The main road, sir, it being the safer and

shorter!" Andy felt a moment's dizziness

Then a rough voice startled him:

"I know that boy, my lord; he was the on

n the secret passage, about which I tol

you. I shall not soon forget him."


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"I thought you said your companion in th

cave was dealt a stunning blow; surel

his lad could have done no such thing,

answered the Captain.

"I could swear to him, your lordship

hough I saw him but for a moment a

Martin went down, and the light went outHi! there, Martin, come here," he called

A man galloped up, a man with a dar

bruise upon his forehead and eye.

"Martin, do you know that boy?" Marti

ooked, and in the clear light he saw an

knew Andy at once; but somethin

staggered him, and he stammered anshook.

"Did you strike this soldier?" asked th

Captain impatiently of Andy.


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"No, sir!" The words came sharply.

"You do not recognize him?" asked the

officer of Martin."Heisthesame!" Martin blurted

"We are losing time, my lord."

"There is no way to settle the thing herewe are losing time, and your story of tha

night in the cave is too important t

overlook, Norton. If this is the boy w

must deal with him later. The young scamp

probably knows the roads well. Lead on

you rascal, but if you play any tricks an

mislead us, my men shall pin you to

ree."

Ruth gave one despairing cry:

"He is lame," she panted. "For shame


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How can he lead a mounted troop?"

"We'll go slowly. The game's nearly up

my girl," laughed Norton, "and a prick ohe bayonet"he suited the word with a

action, and prodded Andy on the ar

"will hurry the lamest patriot. Lead on

cave-crawler!"

Andy gave one look at Ruth. A look o

bravery, appreciation, and mute thanks fo

her part of the work.

"It's all right, Ruth," he called back. "Tel

mother I'll lead them straight enough an

be home in an hour. Good-by."

By a winding way leading from the mai

road they went; through Apthorpe's plac

hey cantered at their ease, and so came t


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he highway a mile beyond.

"There may be a shorter cut, my lord,

suggested Norton; then he paused. "Doeyour lordship observe there are no mark

on the road that bespeak the recent passin

of a regiment? This should mean the youn

rebel's death!"

"He's a spy in the old fox's hire!" shoute

another.

"String him up, along with th

schoolmaster down at the Beekman plac

o-morrow morning!" roared a third. Al

was wild commotion in a moment. But i

hat moment Andy took his chances and

made for the thicket, and the hidden pat

over which he and Washington went tha

day that now seemed so long ago. A man


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eaned from a horse and tried to clutc

him, lost his balance and tumbled to th

ground. Confusion covered Andy's dash.

"He's gone!" yelled the man who ha

fallen.

"Which way?" shouted several i

response.

Which way? Aye, that was the query

Which way!

Andy made for the dry bed of the stream

o rustling leaves must betray him. Not i

flight was his safety now, but in silen

hiding until darkness should come. Downto the muddy pool of the once rushin

brook, rolled the boy. In the distance h

heard:


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"No trail here, my lord!" and he smile

grimly.

"Well, a lost lame rebel is of less accounhan the regiments ahead," shouted th

Captain. "Bad luck to the young devil. Cu

cross country and try the river road!"

"They have an hour to the good!" though

Andy, as he remembered the wear

patriots and young Aaron Burr. Soon al

was quiet, and with the palpitating silenca new thought grew in Andy's brain

"Better string him up to-morrow with th

schoolmaster!" Whom did they mean!

"Schoolmaster! Spy!" The two word

struck dully on the aching brain. Suppose

Andy sat up and gazed wildly into th

dense underbrush. "Could it be?" But no


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he idea was too horrible.

The long shadows began to creep amon

he rocks they loved so well. Still Andsat staring into the awful possibility tha

he words conjured up.

"Schoolmaster! Spy!" He could stand it n

onger. Cautiously he crept up the bank

Through all the excitement he had clung t

his crutch. It must serve him well now. H

set out determinedly toward the highwayCome what might, he must reach th

Beekman place as soon as possible, an

he hoped that the road was safe, owing t

nterest being centered elsewhere. In thihope he was right. Below and above him

excitement ran rife, but the highwa

seemed to belong to him alone.


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CHAPTER VI

THEN MARCHED THE

BRAVE

A terrible storm was coming up, after th

sultry day. Andy's whole being centered

upon the thought that he must reach th

Beekman Place; and the coming stor

might delay him. Only so far did it affec

him. He felt no hunger; it troubled him

ittle that his mother and Ruth woulworry about him, but nothing mattered s

much as the solving of the doubt that wa

causing his heart and brain to throb.


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Strangely enough, his lameness decrease

as his excitement waxed greater, or i

seemed to, and he considered it less. Th

birds stopped twittering their vespesongs, and huddled fearfully in thei

shelters. A peal of thunder was followed

quickly by another. The rocks took up th

echo and prolonged the sound. Betweenhe flashes of lightning, the darkness coul

almost be felt, so tangible and dense i

seemed. Once Andy fell and struck hi

head. The blow made him giddy, but th

rain dashing in his face steadied him, an

he plodded on. Then a glare in th

distance attracted him. It was in thdirection toward which he was going.

"A fire!" he muttered. "All the mor

reason for hoping they will not notice me.


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The town might burn, what matter, if only

he way were free to the Beekman place.

t was still dark when he reached hidestination, worn and haggard. Ove

oward the greenhouse people wer

stirring about, and Andy rightly guessed

hat the prisoner, whoever he might bewas there. No luckier place could hav

been chosen, so far as Andy wa

concerned. It was surrounded b

shrubbery through which he could creeright up to the building, providing, o

course, that the sentinels did not see him

But the sentinels were relaxing thei

watch. The hours of the troublesome spwere nearly ended, and there could b

ittle danger of any further trouble on hi

account.


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Andy crept along, keeping to the bushes

The storm was nearly over, and no

ightning could betray his motions now.

Once the glass house was reached, And

ooked eagerly in. There was a pile o

rubbish in one corner, and a man wa

sitting upon a rude bench near it; betweehim and Andy, however, were two men

with their backs to the boy, and they quit

hid the face of the man upon the bench

The two were listening, and the third mawas speaking. Andy was too far away to

hear, but, gaining courage, he crept around

o the other side of the house, and so cam

close to the group within. Something in thattitude of the man upon the bench ha

caused the boy's heart to leap madly, then

almost stop. He raised his eyes slowly


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one look was enough!

Sorrow and ill-treatment had done thei

work, but the dear face was the sameDauntless, undying courage shone upon th

uplifted face.

t was the master! The errand, whatever i

had been, was over. Success or failure

Andy could not tell from the calm features

Spy or hero! What mattered? There sat th

beloved friend, deserted and forlornstill unconquered though the fetters boun

him close.

"I would send, if your kindness wil

permit, these letters. They will mak

ighter the sorrow of them I love."

Andy bowed his head and clutched at hi


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hroat to stifle the rising cry. A broken

pane of glass near-by permitted him t

hear clearly every word.

One man on guard had a low, brutal face

he other, Andy noticed, had a more

humane look.

"Have you the letters written?" asked th

coarse fellow.

"I have." The master drew them from hi

breast and handed them to the speaker.

"One is to Washington," laughed the man

"Gad, you must take us for raw recruits."

"I shall be beyond harming you soon. Tha

etter refers to personal matters, I swear.

There was superb dignity in the voice. "

would have his excellency know that


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regret nothing. I would do all over again

did the need arise. Washington would see

hat my comrades understand that."

The man with the letters gave vent to

brutal oath. Then the quieter man spok

for the first.

"If we read the letters and find the

harmless, I am for forwarding them. To

whom are the others addressed?"

"One to my family, the otherto th

woman I was to have married!" Th

master, for the first time, bowed his head

as if his burden were too heavy.

"I think we may carry out your request i

he contents are what you imply."

"And make a hero of this spy!" snarled th


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rougher man. "Every word may have

double meaning, Colonel. We have the

papers he so carefully hid, but thes

etters may contain the same informationslyly concealed." He tore the letter

across twice, and flung the pieces on th

floor. "Death and oblivion to all rebe

spies!" he hissed.

The master never flinched, but his pal

face grew paler. "Is there anything else w

can do for you?" asked the milder voice"something safer than forwarding letters?"

"I should like to have the right generall

granted a dying man, of seeing a ministerOne lives a few miles above here. I a

sure he would come."

"And hear what you dare not write,


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sneered the torturer. "You are not the sor

o need a death-bed scene; besides, ther

sn't going to be any death-bed. I dare sa

he parson would be glad enough to carryour so-called confession to Washington

Bah! you are crude in your last moments."

"Come," impatiently spoke the fellow'companion, "I have no stomach for you

ests and brutality." Then, turning to th

master, he said: "We will leave you for a

few hours. It seems the only thing we cado for you. Try to rest."

Down the greenhouse the two went. Th

master was alone! He bowed his splendihead, and perhaps tasted, for the first time

he dregs of desolation.

Andy, lying low among the bushes, saw


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hat the master's feet were bound. Th

sight wrung the boy's soul. Perhaps he ha

wildly hoped that escape were possible

but one glance showed him that the fetterwere cruelly strong. What could he do

ear and far he heard the measured trea

of sentinels at their posts. He wondere

hat he had ever gained his presenposition unnoticed. It was doubtful now

hat he could make his own escape, for

gray dawn was breaking in the east. Bu

he thought of his own danger troubled th

boy little. He was thinking of a peculia

whirring sound that he and the master ha

once practiced together. A sound like annsect. "'Twould be a good signal," the

eacher had said. Would he remember it?

Andy pressed close to the broken glass


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and chirruped distinctly. The maste

started and raised his eyes. Was he

dreaming! Again Andy ventured. Then a

smile flitted across the master's face.

"Andy!" he breathed.

"Here, close to you!"

Slowly, without a suspicious start, th

man turned in the boy's direction; and th

wo brave comrades smiled at each othe

over the gulf of pain and grief.

"I will try to sleep!" This aloud, to regal

he ear of any possible listener other tha

Andy. With difficulty the master stretchedas best he could, his fettered limbs upo

Comstock Harriet - Then Marched the Brave

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