CHAPTER IV
THE THIRTEEN
A brief, low conversation among the men followed the discovery of the letter, but Robert was unable to hear any of the words that were spoken. It was not difficult for him, however, to understand what the subject was, and with a feeling of helpless rage he watched them as they conversed. Near him were the sheltering woods, but the few yards that intervened were as impassable as if they had been miles. Even the air of apparent indifference of the two men who were standing guard by his side was maddening, for it only served to emphasize his own hopelessness. His plight was made worse in his own eves because of the loss of his horse, as well as of the letter that had been intrusted to him, and for the time the young soldier was almost in despair. Visions of what might be done with him were flitting through his mind, and the tales that were current of the hardships of the Americans who were prisoners in New York were recalled with startling distinctness.
Suddenly the men who had been earnestly talking together parted, and three of them approached the place where he was standing. A strap which one of them carried was brought forward and the prisoner's hands were at once securely bound behind his back.
When this had been accomplished, one of them turned to Robert and said quietly, "Come with me."
It was useless to resist, and Robert obediently followed the man as he led the way back over the road that extended through the dark and narrow passage; but when they had gone about half the distance his captor suddenly turned and started directly into the woods. At first Robert hesitated to follow, but a low word recalled him to the necessity of obeying, and he was soon close behind the man, who seemed to be at no loss in picking his way. Indeed, Robert soon perceived that they were following a path, which, though it was not well marked, was nevertheless somewhat plain, and without a word being spoken the two men proceeded on their way.
The ground was rising now, and ere long Robert was aware that they were climbing a low hillside. In spite of the dimness of the light he was endeavoring to note the way in which they were going, and though there was no likelihood of his retracing it soon, still he was striving to mark certain places so that he would not be lost if fortune by any turn of her wheel should chance to favor him.
After a walk of eight minutes, though Robert was hardly aware of the time that had elapsed, they halted before a rude structure, built of rough boards and logs, and covering a space of about fifteen feet square. A low call from the man brought from within the hut another man, and as Robert gazed at him in surprise the prisoner fancied that never before had he looked upon so huge a being. The man must have been at least six feet and six inches in height, and his enormous frame seemed to the startled prisoner to be even more immense than it really was.
It became speedily evident that the two men were well known to each other, for Robert's captor said, "I 've a fellow here for you to look after, Josh, and you must not let him slip through your fingers either. He's slippery and he's valuable, too."
When Josh replied it was in a voice that was deeper than Robert thought he ever had heard, but it was not unmusical, and under other circumstances might even have been attractive.
"He won't get away," he said. "Who is he?"
"An express from Washington."
"Anything on him?"
"Not much now," replied the captor, with a laugh. "We 've looked well to that."
"What's to be done with him?"
"Nothing to-night. In a day or two we 'll know more. He's to be left here with you till we come for him."
"How 'll I know when to let him go?"
"You 're not to let him go at all. Some one of us will come and get him. And if you don't want every bone in your body broken, you 'll see to it that he does n't give you the slip."
The giant laughed in a manner that reminded Robert of the rumbling of distant thunder. "Shall I tie his feet?" he inquired.
"If you want to. His hands are tied now."
"Bring him in. I 'll 'tend to him."
"In you go! In with you!" said the captor to Robert, and at once he entered the hut.
Neither of the men followed him, and he glanced eagerly about. There was but one window or opening in the room besides the door, and at first Robert was unable to make out what the room contained. In a brief time, however, his eyes became somewhat accustomed to the dim light, and he could see that there was a table, a few rude chairs or stools, and in one corner a heap of some kind, he could not determine what. It was evident that he had been brought to the hiding-place of some one of the numerous bands of outlaws or cowboys that infested the region, and with whose deeds he was already familiar. It certainly was humiliating to the feelings of the young soldier to be made a prisoner by such men. If he had been taken and his precious letter had been seized by those who were enrolled in the army of King George it would not have been quite so humiliating, he thought; but to be seized by the cowboys and held as a prisoner by them until they should be well paid for delivering him into the hands of his enemies was to make a bad matter even worse. And that such was to be his fate Robert Dorlon had not a doubt.
In a brief time the huge Josh returned, but he was alone, and Robert concluded that the man who had led him to the place had gone back to rejoin his fellows, leaving him alone with the giant. Doubtless he was as well assured of the safety of the prisoner as if a guard of a half dozen had been placed over him, for a contest with his keeper could have but one issue.
"Hungry?" demanded Josh when he entered the hut.
"No."
"Tired?"
"Yes, dead tired," responded Robert heartily.
"I knew it. Everybody that comes here has th' same feelin'," said Josh, with a laugh that again recalled the rumbling of thunder. "It sort o' seems to affect people that way when 'the Thirteen' get hold o' 'em."
"‘The Thirteen'?" inquired Robert.
"Yes. Have n't ye ever heard o' that band?"
"Yes, I 've heard of it," responded Robert quickly; for the report of the deeds of a band of cowboys with that unique name had been current for some time. Among the hills and passes in Jersey and in the region back of the Hudson they had been busied for more than a year, and their leader, Claudius Brown, was a man whom all the patriots feared. Resolute, without fear, merciless and bold, already the scattered country people had come to tremble at the mention of his name. Nor was he the only one who had taken advantage of the troublous times to carry out his own bold projects; and though at first he had declared that he asked no favors of either side in the struggle and would give none, of late it had been currently reported that he had been siding with the forces of King George; though whether this was done because of surer gains and larger rewards, or because his own mind led him so to choose, no one knew.
Robert Dorlon shrugged his shoulders in the darkness and softly whistled as he heard that he was a prisoner of the well-known band.
"I thought so," laughed Josh. "’Most everybody has."
"Why do you call yourselves the Thirteen?"
"Because that's what we are, or rather it's what we started with. Some have been shot, and some have left, but we 've had more come, so I guess we 're about the same's when we started. There's another reason why we call ourselves that, though."
"What is it?"
"Well, it seems to be a sort o' a magical number 'mong the rebels, an' if it is, there's no good reason why we should n't have it, too."
"I don't see"—began Robert.
"Hold on a bit an' I 'll show ye. How many colonies are there?"
"Thirteen."
"Exac'ly. Now, how many hairs has Phil Schuyler left on th' top o' his head?"
"I have n't any idea."
"Well, it's exac'ly thirteen; an' his wife, Mistress Catherine Schuyler, braids 'em up every night most 'mazin' careful, I'm told, so 't not one o' th' magic number 'll get lost. Then Marthy Washington has a cat with thirteen stripes 'round his tail; she won't have any other kind, I hear. The rebels are just clean daft over the number thirteen; so we thought if there was so much in that number, we'd try it a spell ourselves. An' it seems t' have worked like a charm so far. I think ye said ye was tired," he added abruptly.
"Yes, I am," replied Robert quickly.
"Jest stretch yerself on those blankets in the corner there. I 'll keep watch over ye so 't nothin' comes t' harm ye." The giant laughed good-naturedly, and Robert was tempted for the moment to try to induce him to permit him to escape.
"Josh, what do you keep me here for?" he inquired abruptly.
"Orders."
"Suppose I should escape and should send you five pounds. Would n't that fix it all right?"
"No, sir, 'twould n't."
"I might make it ten."
"Ye might make it a thousand, but 't would n't do ye a mite o' good."
"Why not?"
"I'm not that kind, that's all."
"But your 'Thirteen' is doing that all the time. They have n't any scruples."
"Ye don't know Claud, that's all. Besides, it would n't make any difference if ye did. I don't care a wisp o' barley straw which side wins, but I stick by my friends every time. Here ye stay till ye 're wanted."
"They might hang me," suggested Robert.
"Like 'nough. Such things have been done."
"You would n't do it or want it done either."
"I don't do it, that's true 'nough; but it's none o' my affairs what others do."
"Where shall I lie down?"
"There, in that corner," replied the man, pointing once more at the robes or blankets that could be dimly seen in the corner of the room. "An' let me tell ye," he added, "not to try any o' yer tricks. I'm on hand all the time right in front o' the door, an' if my gun should happen to go off, it would be most likely right in th' d'rection o' where ye were standin' at the time."
Robert made no response, and at once threw himself upon the improvised bed. In spite of his weariness, the predicament in which he found himself kept him awake for a time. He could see the huge form of Josh seated directly in the doorway with his back against the side, and puffing away at his pipe as if it were the sole occupation of his life. That there would be other things he would certainly do if conditions were to change, Robert felt confident, and to escape, or even to make an attempt to free himself, for the time was not to be thought of. He turned over upon his side and resolutely strove to go to sleep.
Whether he had been sleeping or not he was unable to determine, when he was aroused by the sound of voices and the sight of some one standing in the doorway talking to Josh. The voice of the new-comer sounded strangely familiar, and in a moment Robert was listening intently, although he did not move from his position.
"I 'll leave my horse outside," the man was saying.
"Of course ye will," replied Josh. "I 'll keep an eye on him. He won't get away."
"I shan't be here more than two or three hours, but if I can get a little sleep I 'll be all the better for it."
"Go right in and lie down. There's only one in there now."
"Some one in there? Who is it?"
"I forget his name. He's asleep. Ye need n't be afraid o' him."
"I'm not afraid, but"—began the man in a lower voice.
"Go on in! I 'll let ye know when they come for ye. I can tell Claud in the darkest night that ever was," interrupted Josh.
"He sent me word that I was to meet him here. I don't know how he knew I was coming"—
"Oh, Claud knows all right," laughed Josh. "Nothin' escapes him."
"I should n't have stopped if he had n't sent word that he was to give me something of importance. I want to get back to New York in a hurry. As long as he is n't here and I 'm to wait, I might as well get a little sleep."
The man, whom Robert excitedly had recognized by his voice as Russell, then entered the room, and in a moment dropped upon the blankets within a yard of the place where Robert himself was lying.