The Reckoning

Far away across the sand-flats we could see a ruined barn outlined against the sunset sky, but no house remained standing to the westward far as the eye could reach. However, as we entered the highway, which I knew well, because now we were approaching a country familiar to me, I, leading, caught sight of a few Dutch roofs to the east, and presently came into plain view of the stockade and blockhouses of Schenectady, above which rose the lovely St. George's church and the heavy walls and four demi-bastions of the citadel which is called the Queen's Fort.

As we approached in full view of the ramparts there was a flash, a ball of white smoke; and no doubt a sentry had fired his musket, such was evidently their present state of alarm, for I saw the Stars and Stripes run up on the citadel, and, far away, I heard the conch-horn blowing, and the startled music of the light-infantry horns. Evidently the sight of our Oneidas, spread far forward in a semicircle, aroused distrust. I sent Murphy forward with a flag, then advanced very deliberately, recalling the Oneidas by whistle-signal.

And, as we rode under the red rays of the westering sun, I pointed out St. George's to Elsin and the Queen's Fort, and where were formerly the town gates by which the French and Indians had entered on that dreadful winter night when they burned Schenectady, leaving but four or five houses, and the snowy streets all wet and crimsoned with the blood of women and children.

"But that was many, many years ago, sweetheart," I added, already sorry that I had spoken of such things. "It was in 1690 that Monsieur De Mantet and his Frenchmen and Praying Indians did this."

"But people do such things now, Carus," she said, serious eyes raised to mine.

"Oh, no–"

"They did at Wyoming, at Cherry Valley, at Minnisink. You told me so in New York—before you ever dreamed that you and I would be here together."

"Ah, Elsin, but things have changed now that Colonel Willett is in the Valley. His Excellency has sent here the one man capable of holding the frontier; and he will do it, dear, and there will be no more Cherry Valleys, no more Minnisinks, no more Wyomings now."

"Why were they moving out of the houses in Albany, Carus?"

I did not reply.

Presently up the road I saw Murphy wave his white flag; and, a moment later, the Orange Gate, which was built like a drawbridge, fell with a muffled report, raising a cloud of dust. Over it, presently, our horses' feet drummed hollow as we spurred forward.

"Pass, you Tryon County men!" shouted the sentinels; and the dusty column entered. We were in Schenectady at last.

As we wheeled up the main street of the town, marching in close column between double lines of anxious townsfolk, a staff-officer, wearing the uniform of the New York line, came clattering down the street from the Queen's Fort, and drew bridle in front of me with a sharp, precise salute.

"Captain Renault?" he asked.

I nodded, returning his salute.

"Colonel Gansvoort's compliments, and you are directed to report to Colonel Willett at Butlersbury without losing an hour."

"That means an all-night march," I said bluntly.

"Yes, sir." He lowered his voice: "The enemy are on the Sacandaga."

I stiffened in my stirrups. "Tell Colonel Gansvoort it shall be done, sir." And I wheeled my horse, raising my rifle: "Attention!—to the left—dress! Right about face! By sections of four—to the right—wheel—March! … Halt! Front—dress! Trail—arms! March!"

The veterans of Morgan, like trained troop-horses, had executed the maneuvers before they realized what was happening. They were the first formal orders I had given. I myself did not know how the orders might be obeyed until all was over and we were marching out of the Orange Gate once more, and swinging northward, wagons, bat-horses, and men in splendid alignment, and the Oneidas trotting ahead like a pack of foxhounds under master and whip. But I had to do with irregulars; I understood that. Already astonished and inquiring glances shot upward at me as I rode with Elsin; already I heard a low whispering among the men. But I waited. Then, as we turned the hill, a cannon on the Queen's Fort boomed good-by and Godspeed!—and our conch-horn sounded a long, melancholy farewell.

It was then that I halted the column, facing them, rifle resting across my saddle-bow.

"Men of New York," I said, "the enemy are on the Sacandaga."

Intense silence fell over the ranks.

"If there be one rifleman here who is too weary to enter Johnstown before daylight, let him fall out."

Not a man stirred.

"Very well," I said, laughing; "if you Tryon County men are so keen for battle, there's a dish o' glory to be served up, hot as sugar and soupaan, among the Mayfield hills. Come on, Men of New York!"

And I think they must have wondered there in Schenectady at the fierce cheering of Morgan's men as our column wheeled northwest once more, into the coming night.

We entered Johnstown an hour before dawn, not a man limping, nor a horse either, for that matter. An officer from Colonel Willett met us, directing the men and the baggage to the fort which was formerly the stone jail, the Oneidas to huts erected on the old camping-ground west of Johnson Hall, and Elsin and me to quarters at Jimmy Burke's Tavern. She was already half-asleep in her saddle, yet ever ready to rouse herself for a new effort; and now she raised her drowsy head with a confused smile as I lifted her from the horse to the porch of Burke's celebrated frontier inn.

"Colonel Willett's compliments, and he will breakfast with you at ten," whispered the young officer. "Good night, sir."

"Good night," I nodded, and entered the tavern, bearing Elsin in my arms, now fast asleep as a worn-out child.

CHAPTER XI

THE TEST

I was awakened by somebody shaking me. Bewildered, not recognizing my landlord, but confusing him with the sinister visions that had haunted my sleep, I grappled with him until, senses returning, I found myself sitting bolt upright in a shaky trundle-bed, clutching Jimmy Burke by the collar.

"Lave go me shirrt, sorr," he pleaded—"f'r the saints' sake, Misther Renault! I've the wan shirrt to me back–"

"Confound you, Jimmy!" I yawned, dropping back on my pillow; "what do you mean by choking me?"

"Chocken', is it, sorr!" exclaimed the indignant Irishman; "'tis me shcalp ye're afther liftin' wid a whoop an' a yell, glory be! I'll throuble ye, Captain Renault, f'r to projooce me wig, sorr!"

Clutched in my left hand I discovered the unfortunate landlord's wig, and I lay there amused and astonished while he haughtily adjusted it before the tiny triangle of glass nailed on the wall.

"Shame on you, Jimmy Burke, to wear a wig to cheat some honest Mohawk out of his eight dollars!" I yawned, rubbing my eyes.

"Mohawks, is it? Now, God be good to the haythen whin James Burrke takes the Currietown thrail–"

"You're exempt, you fat rascal!" I said, laughing; and the dumpy little Irishman gave me a sly grin as he retied his stock and stood smoothing down his rumpled wig before the glass.

"Och! divil a hair has he left on the wig o' me!" he grumbled. "Will ye get up, sorr? 'Tis ten o'clock, lackin' some contrairy minutes, an' the officers from the foort do be ragin' f'r lack o' soupaan–"

"Are they here?" I cried, leaping out of bed. "Why didn't you say so? Where's my tub of water? Don't stand there grinning, I tell you. Say to Colonel Willett I'll join him in a second."

The fat little landlord retreated crab-wise. I soused my clipped head in the tub, took a spatter-bath like a wild duck in a hurry, clothed me in my gay forest-dress, making no noise lest I wake Elsin, and ran down the rough wooden stairs to the coffee-room, plump into a crowd of strange officers, all blue and buff and gilt.

"Well, Carus!" came a cool, drawling voice from the company; and I saw the tall, gaunt figure of Colonel Marinus Willett sauntering toward me, his hawk's nose wrinkled into a whimsical smile.

"Colonel," I stammered, saluting, then sprang forward and grasped the veteran's outstretched hand, asking his pardon for my tardiness.

"What a great big boy!" he commented, holding my hand in both of his, and inspecting me from crown to heel. "Is this the lad I've heard of—below—" His nose wrinkled again, and his grimly humorous mouth twitched. "Carus, you've grown since I last saw you at the patroon's, romping a reel with those rosy Dutch lassies from Vrooman's—eh? That's well, my son; the best dancers were ever the best fighters! Look at Tim Murphy! As for me, I never could learn to dance with you Valley aristocrats. Carus, you should know my officers." And he mentioned names with a kindly, informal precision characteristic of a gentleman too great to follow conventions, too highly bred to ignore them. The consequent compromise was, as I say, a delightfully formal informality which reigned among his entourage, but never included himself, although he apparently invited it. In this, I imagine, he resembled his Excellency, and have heard others say so; but I do not know, for I never saw his Excellency.

"Now, gentlemen," said Colonel Willett casually, as he seated himself at the head of the table. And we sat down at the signal, I next to the Colonel at his nod of invitation.

The fat little landlord, Burke, notorious for the speed with which he fled from Sir John Johnson when that warrior-baronet raided Johnstown, came bustling into the coffee-room like a fresh breeze from the Irish coast, asking our pleasure in a brogue thick enough to season the bubbling, steaming bowl of hasty-pudding he set before us a moment later.

"Jimmy," said an officer, glancing up at him where he stood, thick legs apart, hands clasped behind him, and jolly head laid on one side, "is there any news of Sir John Johnson in these parts?"

"Faith," said Burke, with a toss of his head, "'tis little I bother meself along wid the likes o' Sir John. Lave him poke his nose into the Sacandagy an' dhrown there, bad cess to him! We've a thrick to match his, an' wan f'r the pig!"