CHAPTER XIII
ASHES
The rest which Robert Dorlon had obtained in the preceding night, the fact that he found his horse also apparently ready for the long journey, as well as the knowledge that the men in Fort Montgomery were confident and hopeful, did much to restore the spirits of the young soldier. The early morning air and the very beauty of the scenery through which he was passing also combined to increase his confidence as he rode swiftly forward. There was a haze upon the summits of the purple hills and an air of peacefulness over all the region that in themselves were marvelously comforting, and when Robert had left the fort some miles behind, it almost seemed to him that war was something which had no real existence. Even the winds had died away, and the Hudson itself, as he obtained occasional glimpses of its waters, was as quiet as the peaceful landscape all about him.
When, however, two hours had elapsed and he found himself once more near the abode of Dirck Rykman, the full sense of his own peril returned once more in full force upon him, It was here that he had first encountered danger on his journey up the shore, and the sharp recollection of what General Clinton had informed him concerning the arrest of the young Dutchman brought back to him forcefully the knowledge that he himself was on dangerous ground, and that, if reports were to be believed, even his trusted friend had proved recreant to the cause of the struggling Americans.
At the thought he checked the speed of his horse and, as he proceeded more slowly, gazed keenly about him. The singing birds, the metallic sounds of crickets, the chattering of squirrels, were all that broke in upon the silence of the summer day. Not a man had been seen since he had departed from the fort, but Robert was aware now that all these things did not protect him from the sudden call, or the sharp report of guns of men who might be concealed somewhere within the silence of the woods through which he was passing. His anxiety increased, and, as he climbed the hill and perceived the humble abode of Dirck Rykman, not many yards in advance of him, he increased his precautions and looked carefully to the priming of his pistol.
He was aware that haste was required on his part, for the general had explained the importance of the letter which Robert had this time concealed in his shoe; but he was eager to learn if the report concerning Dirck had been correct, and he also comforted himself by the assurance that he would in the end save time by giving his horse an occasional rest. Whatever the motive may have been that at last controlled him, at all events he turned aside from the road and approached the rear of the log house in which Dirck Rykman had dwelt for two years, and where he himself had been received with such cordial and simple hospitality on the occasion of his former visit. He had not perceived any one about the place as he drew near, and the silence but increased his feeling of uneasiness when he halted a few yards from the door.
Still retaining his seat on the back of his horse, and with one hand on the butt of his pistol, he leaned forward and in a low voice cried, "Dirck ! Dirck! come out here!"
He waited a brief time but no response was given to his hail, and then he repeated his summons in a louder tone. "Dirck! Are you in the house? Come out here a minute!"
"What it was you want?"
Robert turned sharply in his seat as the unexpected question came from behind him, and beheld Dirck's wife and little girl approaching from the barn.
"You startled me, Mina!" he said foolishly, thrusting his pistol back into his belt. "And how is the little Mina?" he added lightly, glancing down at the child, and then in response to her pleading bending low and swinging her up on the seat before him on the horse's back.
"She was well, as you see," said the child's mother simply.
"Mina, where is Dirck?" inquired Robert quickly.
"He was not here."
"Where is he?" a fear creeping into Robert's heart, as he spoke, that Captain Underdunck's letter was not based upon an entirely false rumor.
"I do not know. He was not here all night. I was afraid." There were no tears in Mina's eyes, and her voice did not break as she spoke, and yet her anxiety and suffering were so apparent that Robert's own heart instantly responded. Her appearance was not unlike that of some dumb and patient animal under suffering.
"Where did he go, Mina?" he inquired gently.
"He was not here after supper."
"Did any one come for him?"
"Yaas."
"Who was it?"
"It was the man what was here before, sometimes. You was here too, may be."
"Do you mean it was the man who was here night before last, when I was?"
"Yaas. It was the man."
"It was!" exclaimed Robert. "Are you certain of it, Mina?"
"Yaas," replied the woman simply.
"Do you know what he said?"
"Nein. They talk some long times in the barn."
"Did n't he come into the house?"
Mina shook her head, but did not speak.
"What did Dirck do, then? Which way did he go? Did they go away together? Did n't he leave any word with you? Did n't he say where he was going?"
Dirck's wife stared blankly at Robert as he excitedly asked his questions, but apparently they were too quickly spoken to permit her to comprehend their meaning.
"Mina," began Robert, perceiving his mistake and endeavoring to speak more clearly and not unduly to alarm the woman, "did n't Dirck tell you where he was going?"
"Yaas."
"He did? Where was it?"
"He was going to Esopus."
"With that man?"
"Yaas."
"What was he going for? When did he say he would come back?" Robert's eagerness was returning again, but he repressed himself by an effort, for his hope of receiving a reply to his questions depended much upon himself, as he was aware.
"There was some one sick."
"Did Rus— Did the man tell him that?"
"I do not know. Dirck told me."
"Did he go with the man?"
"Yaas."
"And he did not tell you when he expected to come back?"
"Yaas, he told me."
"When was it?"
"Last night. But he don't was come back yet," she added, shaking her head.
"Has any one else been here?"
"Nein. I was all alone with Mina. Dirck don't leave me sometimes before."
"If Dirck does not come back for a day or two, what will you do, Mina?"
"If Dirck was not come back?" Mina's blue eyes stared at him in a manner that made Robert's heart ache, and yet from the knowledge he had he was convinced that something must be done, for Dirck was not likely to return soon.
"Yes. You know, Mina, that in days like these no man can tell surely just what he will do. I don't believe anything has happened to Dirck, that is, I don't believe he has been harmed," he added in some confusion, "but one never can tell just how long he 'll be gone from home." He was trying to comfort the woman and at the same time prepare her for what he feared was likely to be a prolonged absence on the part of her husband. A half dozen various explanations for what had occurred had flashed into his mind. Dirck's arrest might have been due to a prearranged plan of Russell or the cowboys. And yet if they had merely wanted to secure him, why had they induced him to depart from his home? It must have been a simple matter to seize him, and as for caring anything about the sorrow of his wife or the helplessness of his little girl, Robert well knew that they were not accustomed to permit any motives of sentiment to interfere with their plans. But Dirck had been taken by the Orange County militiamen and apparently in the very act of leading the Tories on some expedition, the nature of which Robert could only conjecture. It was almost impossible to conceive of the honest hearted young Dutchman as being false to the colonies; and yet he had been taken after repeated warnings and when he had been followed by the patriot guard. If he only had the time to spare he would look into the matter himself, Robert assured himself, but he must leave that for others to do. Meanwhile what was to become of Mina and her child? One solution that presented itself was to take them with him and leave them at the house of Hannah Nott. There they would be cared for, but it was uncertain what would be done there, and he did not even know whether the family was to remain. Then, too, if Dirck should return to his own home and learn that his wife and child were gone, the confusion would be greatly increased, and instead of aiding he would hinder the safety of all.
"Mina," he said, after a brief pause, "how far does your mother live from here?"
"Two miles."
"Then if Dirck does not come back by noon I should take Mina and go there if I were you. Dirck will know where to look for you if he comes back and finds that you are not here."
"Yaas."
"You 'll go, will you?" said Robert eagerly.
"Yaas."
"Don't wait too long. You know the way through the woods, and you would do better to take that path than to follow the road. I hope everything will come out all right. I must go on now."
Robert lifted the little Mina gently from her seat on his saddle, dropped her to the ground, and then with a wave of his hand started swiftly down the road. When he glanced behind him he could see that Dirck's wife and child were still standing where he had left them, and there was a fear in his heart that they would not do as he had bidden them. What they were likely to suffer if they were left alone and unprotected he did not dare to dwell upon. Even Hannah and her mother, bolder spirits far, were not safe, and their natural defenders had hastened to their aid with the first report of trouble from the cowboy bands.
The thought of Hannah and the possible presence in her home of her father and brothers instantly caused Robert to decide to stop there and inform them of the report of Dirck's arrest and the predicament in which Mina and her little girl had been left. The young express knew that it was not expected of him that he should delay his journey in order to be knight-errant or the defender of the helpless. Speed was one of the foremost demands upon him, and other duties must be left to other men. However, it was not difficult for him to persuade himself that he would lose no time by making a brief stop, and at the same time leave word with Mr. Nott (he was very positive that it was with the father he was to deal) that might be of service to all concerned.
Almost unaware of what he was doing, he quickened the pace of his horse and was soon speeding down the road. Aware of the perils that now might be met, he kept a sharp lookout all about him; but when he arrived at the place where the road branched and he had turned into the one that led past the home of Hannah Nott, still not a man had been seen.
When a half hour had elapsed, so swiftly had he ridden, he came to the well-remembered spot where he had turned and had made his way across the lots to Hannah's home. The impulse was still strong upon him, and almost instinctively he turned his horse into the field.
In a brief time he came out beyond the sheltering trees, and eagerly gazed in the direction of the house. A cry of dismay escaped his lips as he looked, for the house was gone, and in its place was a mass of discolored timbers and ashes, from which an occasional curl of smoke could still be seen to rise.
"Burned! Burned to the ground!" he exclaimed, as he sharply drew the rein on his horse and gazed in consternation about him.
There could be no question as to the fate of the house, but there was nothing to indicate what had become of the inmates. He glanced keenly about him in all directions, but the silence and loneliness were only too apparent. Nothing was to be seen of the party that had attacked the place, any more than of the people who had lost their home. The smouldering ashes seemed to imply that the fire had been started hours before this time, and doubtless the men who had been guilty had long since fled. Robert had no question that Claudius Brown and his associates had been the guilty ones, and undoubtedly had returned soon after his own departure to engage in their evil deeds. But as Robert slowly advanced, he was in nowise prepared for the sound which suddenly broke in upon the stillness of the summer day.