ZENAS, after his first stare, trotted after Sally, and because his horse was of finer breed—a riding mare belonging to his mother—he soon passed the girl and turned to grin at her over his shoulder.
"What makes ye so slow, mistress?" he mocked. "Methinks ye will arrive at Newark next week instead b' this day!"
Sally smiled back at him. Her cheeks blazed beneath the sunbonnet, which seemed to scoop all the heat there was's she rode along. "Oh, Zenas," she eyed with longing gaze the cool depths of a woodland they were passing, "an we could only stop and rest!"
But the boy shook his head. "Nay, ye be the very one who did say to go wi' the bullets! So, say I, the sooner we get them to our men, the better!"
"Ye be right," sighed Sally. Yet the great copper ball of the sun seemed to be burning a hole straight through her shoulders, the feel of her horse's heaving sides grew to be more and more unbearable, until at last she called to Zenas: "I—nay, Zenas, I cannot see! The road be turning black before me!" And Zenas looked back in time to see the girl slump forward in her saddle, a pathetic, unconscious burden.
It was not many minutes later that Sally opened her eyes and felt wonderingly of her dripping face. She was lying upon some soft turf beside the road, whither Zenas had managed to half drag, half carry her. Zenas himself, a frightened pallor showing beneath the tan and freckles of his face, was kneeling beside her, the water, which he had obtained from a near-by brook, still brimming in his three-cornered hat.
"Ye did—did swoon, Sally!" he stammered.
"Nay, 'twas the heat," murmured the girl. She struggled to a sitting posture. "Where be the horses?" she asked anxiously.
"Right here behind ye," said Zenas reassuringly. "It must have been the heat, Sally, as ye say. Then, too, ye did work hard this morn i' Mistress Harrison's kitchen, preparing the noon meal."
"But I always work hard," protested Sally wonderingly. "Indeed, 'tis not like me to ha' the megrims—only fine ladies ha' the megrims, Zenas!"
"Mayhap ye be a fine lady and know it not, Sally," returned Zenas, grinning, his fright at Sally's sudden collapse beginning to leave him. He looked at her soberly, then. "Think ye ye will be able to continue the journey?" he asked worriedly.
Sally got slowly to her feet, clenched her teeth at the sudden dizziness which at once swooped upon her. "Aye," she said, breathing hard. "I will go on!" And, with the boy's help, she remounted her horse, grasping his mane when the dizziness threatened her once more. But gradually it wore off, for the brief rest had done her good.
Now, however, the sun began to descend in the western sky, dropping more swiftly as it neared the line of the Mountain ridge. Sally, glancing back, drew a tremulous breath at the glorious beauty of that sunset glow—great purple clouds were banking up, pierced with crimson and golden rays. Zenas, looking back at it, thought only with relief that it would grow cooler; but Sally caught, somehow, the meaning of that beauty, the heavenly promise of to-morrow; some poet ancestor must have given her understanding. She said nothing, though, and the two tired horses plodded along, past the occasional farm, past enemy-wrought ruins, through brief, refreshing bits of forest land.
But as they neared the Town by the River—indeed, long before they began to climb the last hill along whose ridge lies the present High Street, they commenced to meet people fleeing toward the safety of the Mountain. The refugees were mostly women and children and old men, some on foot, some riding horseback; but all burdened with household treasures which they would not leave to the vandal hands of the British. Zenas stopped the first few and was informed in trembling accents that the enemy were truly gathering on the east bank of the Passaic River for an obvious attack upon Newark.
"And they do say 'tis General Clinton himself who comes to direct this attack," said the old man who had answered the boy's hasty questions. "It be a terrible thing," he went on simply, "to have to leave one's home thus! The old need their own things around them; but we, who live here i' this New Jersey which seems so easy for the enemy to harass and raid—we may return and find all o' our things burned or destroyed or stolen! Three times ha' my daughter and her little ones"—he motioned to the drooping woman upon a horse near by—"and I been forced to flee to the safety o' the Newark Mountains, wi' her husband away fighting!"
"Best haste, then," Zenas told him warningly, "for, an the enemy do come to Newark from Elizabeth Town, they may march by way o' the Second Road and so meet ye, after all!"
"They will not meet us," responded the old man grimly, "for we shall hide i' the underbrush, an we hear marching feet!" But, all the same, he trembled with anxiety as he hastened back to his daughter's side; and it was not long before, leading the horse upon which perched three tow-headed children, with his daughter's horse following—and both Sally and Zenas noticed, with pity, the tiny new-born baby she was carrying in her arms—they set forth upon the road again.
But they were not the only pitiful groups, for the lame and the hah and the blind came with ever-increasing numbers. Again and again did Zenas and Sally have to draw rein upon the narrow lane and remain at one side to allow such to pass, for they would have been ridden down in their infirmities. Grim silence was upon most of them, though a few lamented here and there. But the same determination was evinced by all, the determination to gain the protection of the First and Second Mountains, beyond which the enemy, save a few spies and Tories, never did pass, during the term of the war.
Dusk came on apace. This, however, did not prevent Sally from recognizing at last a certain thin, shrewish-looking figure among the refugees, riding jerkily along on a familiar horse. "Mistress Todd!" she ejaculated. And wished at once she had held her peace.
It was too late. Mistress Todd drew rein in amazement and peered at the girl over her baby son's head, whom she carried in her arms as she rode.
"How now, Sally?" she snapped. "What do ye here?"
Sally nodded to Mistress Banks, who rode just behind her friend, with Mary Todd upon the saddle before her. "I—I" began Sally stammeringly, hating herself for that terrible self-consciousness which ever descended upon her at sight of her mistress.
"Well?" Mistress Todd gazed sharply from Sally to Zenas, whose bland, undisturbed look met hers without flinching. Suddenly, the lady rode her horse closer to the girl. "Well?" she asked impatiently again.
"Sally doth mean to say that she be riding wi' me on an errand for my mother," said Zenas coolly.
"I asked not your explanation, Zenas Williams!" Mistress Todd turned to eye him up and down. Then her compelling glance sought Sally's face, into which the desperate color had flooded. "Well, girl, answer me! What do ye here?"
"I—I" gulped Sally. Her voice died away helplessly.
Before the indignant Zenas could once more interfere. Mistress Banks's good-natured voice came from behind them. "Nay, Molly, the girl doubtless hath business here. Let her be on her way and we on ours, for I like not tarrying o'erlong!"
"Business, indeed!" exclaimed Mistress Todd angrily. "Nay, what could a bond wench like her ha' to do i' Newark at such a time! Turn thy horse around, girl! I like not this sudden shift o' mistresses! I left ye i' charge o' Mistress Ball! Why should Mistress Williams be ordering ye off on her affairs wi' this son o' hers? Humph! 'Tis a strange mix-up, indeed, forsooth!"
"But—but—I can explain!" said Sally, not daring to tell her mistress that she had left her in charge of no one at all—that she, Sally, would have fared ill had not Uzal Ball offered her his mother's hospitality. But Zenas suddenly spoke.
"An ye like not the plans made for Sally, mistress, why did ye not stay at home, yourself, and keep her beneath your own eye?" he asked bluntly.
This time it was Mistress Todd's turn to blush. Furious red surged into her narrow face, furious anger into her voice.
"None o' thy tongue, Zenas Williams!" she answered, thin-lipped. "Sally, ye heard me bid ye turn your horse around and return to the Mountain! Why do ye not obey?"
"The enemy's bivouac lights are across the river, e'en now!" exclaimed Mistress Banks. "We ha' not occupied our tavern for days, now—it be too near the river for comfort! But Master Banks would not let us remain i' Newark, Sally—not e'en though we had sought refuge at a friend's house high on the ridge. So best obey and come wi' us, lass!"
But Sally, to Zenas's secret relief, shook her head firmly. "Nay, Mistress Banks, thank ye kindly; but I cannot!" she responded respectfully. "I ha' something o' importance to deliver at the Town, and so I must go on!" She turned to Mistress Todd imploringly. "Oh, ha' ye not heard from dear, kind Master Todd at all yet? I do long for news o' him! Hath he not been released?"
"Ye know an he were released, we would ha' come home straightway," the wife told her sourly. "Only a fool would ask that question! But I can guess ye are but trying to change the subject—ye do not really care about Master Todd!"
The hurt tears started into the girl's eyes. "Ye judge me harshly, mistress," she said brokenly. "Indeed, I do care, for ever he was good and kind to me!"
Mistress Todd sniffed at the implied reproach. "Well," she demanded irately, "art going to return or not?"
"Nay, mistress!"
"Humph, ye would offer open defiance, then? What think ye Parson Chapman would say to that?"
"He would commend Sally for her bravery!" burst out Zenas, who had been burning to get back into the conversation. Now he rode his horse between mistress and maid. "Ride on, Sally!" he ordered.
But Sally shook her head forlornly. "I cannot leave wi'out giving little Mary just one kiss, Zenas!" she returned, guiding her horse to Mistress Banks's side, while Mary's mother watched her with a sneer, only half concealed by the oncoming darkness. "But, stay—what be the matter wi' Mary?" added Sally, in alarm, as the child neither stirred nor extended eager, chubby arms in the loving greeting she always had for Sally.
"Nay, she only be asleep!" said Mistress Banks, smiling at the terror in the older girl's voice. "Ye do be nervous, for this little maid cares not whether she be in a trundle bed or on horseback! She doth play so hard through the day, 'tis no easy matter to waken her after supper!"
"And the baby?" Sally looked yearningly at the motionless bundle in Mistress Todd's arms; but she did not offer to go near.
Again it was Mistress Banks who answered, for Mistress Todd maintained a morose silence. "Aye, he be fat and well, Sally—thriving apace," she said reassuringly. "Sally," she bent toward the girl confidentially, "why do ye not confide your business wi' Mistress Todd—explain the reason for your strange errand to the Town by the River at this dangerous time? Mayhap, then, her advice to ye would be to go, i'stead o' ordering your return!"
Mistress Todd shook her head angrily before the girl could answer. "Nay, knowing the wench as I do, I can assure ye that she be on fool's errand! Nothing she can say will alter mine opinion, so let us continue our own journey! We be but wasting time and breath, here!" And clucking to her horse, ignoring both girl and boy who watched her, she rode off into the darkness, followed by her kind-hearted friend, who gave them each farewell greeting before she left.
Sally sighed. "I wonder an she be right?" she said, half to herself. "I wonder an I be wrong to disobey her thus, in not returning to the Mountain!"
Zenas started his horse and Sally, perforce, followed. "Nay," he said sturdily, "ye be right, for our men need the bullets, Sally! Why bother your head o'er her words?"
"But, still, Zenas, she doth be my mistress!" said Sally slowly. "The terms o' the bond hath said that!"
"Ye be wrong, Sally," replied Zenas, "for she did forfeit that authority when she deserted ye. Rest easy on that score, for I do feel sure that Parson Chapman will so agree and dub ye not in wicked rebellion! Nay, rather he will admire ye, Sally—he is not named the 'fighting Parson' for naught—well he knows how bullets be ever needed by our men!"
So reassured, Sally trotted down the hill after her companion. "Where be we going, Zenas?" she asked presently.
Dark and silent, the little hamlet lay at their feet. No cheerful lights flickered in kitchen windows, no lanterns swung like fireflies to and fro across the village lanes, for no one was left to carry them, or, if they were left, they were hiding in darkened homes.
Zenas drew rein at the Four Corners—where the Broad Lane was crossed by the Market Road—and looked about him dubiously. "I know not," he answered, then. "An I could only find out where Captain Littell be!"
"But, Zenas, he doth live i' Springfield—what would he here i' Newark?" remonstrated Sally.
"I know he lives i' Springfield; but Mistress Harrison assured me the 'Blues' did ha' their headquarters here i' Newark." Zenas straightened his shoulders. "Let us go to the Rising Sun Tavern and see!"
"Mistress Banks said they were not living there now—that they had removed to another house," objected Sally.
Zenas made an impatient sound, to be described only as a snort. "What ails ye, Sally?" he demanded irritably. "Such a wet blanket I ne'er saw!"
Sally sighed. "I must be tired," she said. "I wish this errand were well accomplished and we able to sleep somewhere!"
"Never fear," replied Zenas confidently, turning his horse toward the tavern he had mentioned, "we shall be successful. Once we deliver these bullets to Captain Littell, he will find us quarters!"
The tired boy and girl proceeded in silence, then, for the short distance to the tavern. It was just as Zenas, drawing rein before the dark, cheerless-looking building, was about to slip off from his horse, that a low, husky voice spoke from the shadows. "Halt, who goes there?"
Zenas stiffened, one foot still caught in the stirrup. "I, Zenas Williams," he answered tremulously.
"Advance, Zenas Williams, and gi' the password!"
Silence. Then Sally, from her horse, spoke impulsively: "Nay, we ha' no knowledge o' the password!" She shrank back as a tall figure approached her, musket over his shoulder.
"Who be ye, young mistress, and what be doing here i' this town?" asked the stranger sternly. "Know ye not the women have been ordered by Captain Camp to leave?"
"Aye."
"Then what do ye here?"
"That," said Sally in a stubborn voice, "I cannot tell ye until" Her sentence ended in a gasp, for all at once she found herself snatched from her horse and placed roughly upon her feet.
"Ye gi' me defiance, mistress?" growled the big man, who stood over her.
Sally threw back her shoulders and adjusted her disarranged gown which his uncouth jerking her from her steed had almost torn. "Nay," she said quietly, "I gi' ye no defiance. I merely did say we knew not the password; but I would not tell ye, ne'ertheless, my errand here until"
"Call ye not that defiance? Ye"
"Nay—how know I ye be not an enemy!" cried Sally indignantly. "Take me to your commanding officer at once, sir!"
"Zounds, ye lack not insolence, mistress!" The big man's voice was full of amazement. "I think"
A new voice spoke suddenly from the darkness behind them. "It matters not what ye think, sir! I will do the thinking! Why did ye not report to me, at once, the arrival of these newcomers?" As a commanding figure came forward swiftly, the man beside Sally saluted and stepped back. But the other addressed him imperatively. "Who are these?"
"I was but trying to discover. Captain Camp," the man whom Zenas and Sally now knew to be the sentry was beginning in an injured tone. He was interrupted by the girl.
"Not Captain Nathaniel Camp to whom His Excellency did gi' the cannon wi' which to defend Newark!" she cried, whirling toward the officer.
"E'en so." Captain Camp stooped to peer into her eager face. "But I know ye not, little mistress," he added kindly.
Sally dimpled in the darkness. "Is not surprising, sir," she replied. "For I know ye only from what I heard the cook, Martha, at this tavern did tell Mistress Banks one day. She had just waited on ye, and ye had told some friends of General Washington's gift. Oh, Zenas," the girl turned relievedly to him, "I be sure Captain Camp will know o' Captain Littell's whereabouts!"
"Captain Littell?" repeated the officer in a surprised tone. "Why, he is in yonder tavern. Stay, we will go thither!" And he led the way toward the somber doorway of the darkened building before which they had been standing.
But once inside the tap room, Sally looked around her in surprise. The room was cheerful with candlelight, though rather warm and breathless, for every exit had been well covered with some dark, heavy stuff, that not a single candle ray might escape. Three or four men, in uniforms of blue, obviously home-made, were seated at a corner table, poring over a map, and they looked up in astonishment at the entrance of Sally. Captain Camp beckoned to one, who rose courteously and came toward them.
"Captain Littell," said Nathaniel Camp, "here be a young maid and lad who would speak wi' ye!"
Captain Littell bowed gravely in return for the curtsey Sally dropped him. "Aye?" he asked, in a low, deep voice.
Sally took a step toward him. "We bring ye bullets, sir, from the Mountain settlement," she said.
"Bullets!" Sally wondered if she interpreted aright the glance he gave to Captain Camp. Did it contain relief? "Ye bring us bullets?" he repeated slowly, as the men at the table raised their heads and turned toward them.
"Aye, sir," nodded the girl, as Zenas stood silent and shy behind her. "The women o' the Mountain and thereabouts did meet at Mistress Keturah Harrison's and mould 'em, sir!"
"Where are the bullets, young mistress?" asked Captain Littell.
"We did leave them i' the saddlebags on the horses, sir—outside," answered Sally, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.
Captain Littell turned to his associate. "Will ye ha' the saddlebags removed hither, sir?" he requested.
Captain Camp strode out of the room, careful to slip quickly through the door so that no light might go with him. But in a moment he was back, an odd expression upon his face.
"Nay, there are no horses in front o' this tavern," he said, looking searchingly at Sally and Zenas.
Sally's jaw dropped. "No horses, sir?" Her hands flew to her heart. "Why, where are our horses?" she gasped.
Zenas turned toward the door; but before he could lift the latch, he was arrested by Captain Littell's stern voice. "Stay, sir—methinks this doth need explaining, sir!"
Zenas turned back and looked at him wildly. "But the bul—bullets! Someone hath stolen the bullets, sir! E'en now the varlet may escape!"
"Still, matters do need explaining," answered Captain Littell coolly. "How know we ye came on horses? How know we this be no British ruse to ascertain for themselves our headquarters, here?"
Sally wrung her hands. "Oh, sir, this be no British ruse, I do vow! And precious time goes! Stay," a sudden thought struck her, "the sentry can vouch for our coming on horses!" She held up her gown. "He almost tore my frock when he jerked me from my horse!"
Captain Camp stepped to the door, slipped through a narrow entrance, and returned shortly with the sentry, a tall, stupid-looking man when he came forward into the candlelight.
"Horses, sir?" he repeated in answer to Captain Littefs sharp question.
"Aye—did ye take this young lady from her horse, as she doth accuse?"
Zenas started forward impetuously, his shyness vanishing. "Nay, sir," he reiterated, "e'en now the varlet who stole our horses doth escape! I tell ye. Captain Littell, I did secure the horses to two trees before I followed Captain Camp into this tavern! Let me go forth and search. Mayhap," hopefulness would not be killed in the boy's voice, "mayhap they did not find the right trees!"
"Silence, sir!" said Captain Littell sternly. "That be nonsensical! Now, Crane—didst see aught o' horses?"
Crane! Sally started at the name. As though by magic, the smell of the sea came to her nostrils, once more she stood upon the deck of a small schooner, with the white sea gulls wheeling and circling overhead, with the distant view of greenhilled Staten Island delighting her as they sailed for Newark Bay, with a sullen Tory behind her, who did not come near her that livelong trip! Crane! Sally's eyes met the small, close-set ones of the sentry, and she knew him!
"Nay, Captain Littell," said the sentry. Crane, calmly. "This maid and boy came afoot. There were no horses, sir!"