The Little Red Foot. Chambers Robert William
tell you she is no concern of mine. And if she's not a hopeless fool she'll know how to trust the gentry of County Tryon."
"You are of them, too, Jack," she said maliciously.
"I am a plain farmer and I trouble no woman."
"You trouble me," she insisted sweetly.
I laughed, not agreeably.
"You do so," she repeated. "I would you had courage to court me again."
"Do you mean courage or inclination, Claudia?"
She gave me a melting look, very sweet, and a trifle sad.
"With patience," she murmured, "you might awaken both our hearts."
"I know well what I'd awaken in you," said I; "I'd awaken the devil. No; I've had my chance."
She sighed, still looking at me, and I awaited her further assault, grimly armed with memories.
But ere she could speak, Hiakatoo lurched to his feet and stood towering there unsteadily, his burning gaze fixed on space.
Whereat Sir John, now very tight and very drowsy, opened owlish eyes; and Hare took the Seneca by the arm.
"If you desire to go," said he, "here are three of us ready to ride beside you."
Moucher, too, stood up, and so did Captain Watts; but they were not in their cups. Watts took Hiakatoo's blanket from a servant and cast it over the tall warrior's shoulders.
"The Western Gate of the Confederacy lies unguarded," explained Hare to us all, in his frank, amiable manner. "The great Gate Keeper, Hiakatoo, bids you all farewell. Duty calls him toward the setting sun."
All had now risen from the table. Hiakatoo lurched past us and out into the hallway; Hare and Moucher and Watts took smiling leave of Sir John; the ladies gave them all a courteous farewell. Hare, passing, said to me:
"To any who enquire you can answer pat enough to make an end to foolish rumours concerning any meditated flight of this family."
"My answer," said I quietly, "is always the same: Sir William's son has given his parole."
They went out after their Indian, which disturbed me greatly, as I could not account for Hiakatoo's presence at Johnstown, and I was ill at ease seeing him so apparently in charge of three known Tories, and one of them a deputy of Guy Johnson.
However, I took my leave of Sir John, who gave me a wavering hand and stared at me blankly. Then I kissed the ladies' hands and went out to the porch where Billy waited with my mare, Kaya.
Lady Johnson came to the door as I mounted.
"Don't forget us when again you are in Johnstown," she said.
Claudia, too, appeared and stepped daintily out on the dewy grass, lifting her petticoat.
"What a witching night," she exclaimed mischievously, " – what a night for love! Do you mark the young moon, Jack, and how all the dark is saturated with a sweet smell of new buds?"
"I mark it all," said I, laughing, "and, as for love, why, I love it all, Claudia, – moon, darkness, scent of young leaves, the far forest still as death, and the noise of the brook yonder."
"I meant a sweeter love," quoth she, coming to my stirrup and laying both hands upon my saddle.
"There is no sweeter love," said I, still laughing, " – none happier than the love of this silvery world of night which God made to heal us of the blows of day."
"Whither do you ride, Jack?"
"Homeward."
"To Fonda's Bush?"
"Yes."
"Directly home?"
"I have a comrade – " said I. "He awaits me on the Mayfield Road."
"Why do you ride by Mayfield?"
"Because he waits for me there."
"Why, Jack?"
"He has friends to visit – "
"At Mayfield?"
"At Pigeon-Wood," I muttered.
"More gallantry!" she said, tossing her head. "But young men must have their fling, and I am not jealous of Betsy Browse or of her pretty sister, so that you ride not toward Caughnawaga – "
"What?"
"To see this rustic beauty, Penelope Grant – "
"Have I not refused to seek her for you?" I demanded.
"Yes, but not for yourself, Jack! Curiosity killed a cat and started a young man on his travels!"
Exasperated by her malice I struck my mare's flanks with moccasined heels; and as I rode out into the darkness Claudia's gaily mocking laugh floated after me on the still, sweet air.
CHAPTER VI
RUSTIC GALLANTRY
There were few lanterns and fewer candle lights in Johnstown; sober folk seemed to be already abed; only a constable, Hugh McMonts, stood in the main street, leaning upon his pike as I followed the new moon out of town and down into a dark and lovely land where all was still and fragrant and dim as the dreams of those who lie down contented with the world.
Now, as I jogged along on my mare, Kaya, over a well-levelled road, my mind was very full of what I had seen and heard at Johnson Hall.
One thing seemed clear to me; there could be no foundation for any untoward rumours regarding Sir John, – no fear that he meant to shame his honoured name and flee to Canada to join Guy Johnson and his Indians and the Tryon County Tories who already had fled.
No; Sir John was quietly planning his summer farming. All seemed tranquil at the Hall. And I could not find it in my nature to doubt his pledged word, nor believe that he was plotting mischief.
Still, it had staggered me somewhat to see Hiakatoo there in his ceremonial paint, as though the fire were still burning at Onondaga. But I concluded that the Seneca War Chief had come on some private affair and not for his nation, because a chief does not travel alone upon a ceremonial mission. No; this Indian had arrived to talk privately with Hare, who, no doubt, now represented Guy Johnson's late authority among the Johnstown Tories.
Thinking over these matters, I jogged into the Mayfield road; and as I passed in between the tall wayside bushes, without any warning at all two shadowy horsemen rode out in front of me and threw their horses across my path, blocking it.
Instantly my hand flew to my hatchet, but at that same moment one of the tall riders laughed, and I let go my war-axe, ashamed.
"It's John Drogue!" said a voice I recognized, as I pushed my mare close to them and peered into their faces; and I discovered that these riders were two neighbors of mine, Godfrey Shew of Fish House, and Joe de Golyer of Varick's.
"What frolic is this?" I demanded, annoyed to see their big pistols resting on their thighs and their belted hatchets loosened from the fringed sheaths.
"No frolic," answered Shew soberly, "though Joe may find it a matter for his French mirth."
"Why do you stop folk at night on the King's highway?" I inquired curiously of de Golyer.
"Voyons, l'ami Jean," he replied gaily, "Sir Johnson and his Scottish bare-shanks, they have long time stop us on their sacré King's highway. Now, in our turn, we stop them, by gar! Oui, nom de dieu! And we shall see what we shall see, and we shall catch in our little trap what shall step into it, pardieu!"
Shew said in his heavy voice: "Our authorities in Albany have concluded to watch, for smuggled arms, the roads leading to Johnstown, Mr. Drogue."
"Do they fear treachery at the Hall?"
"They do not know what is going on at the Hall. But there are rumours abroad concerning the running in of arms for the Highlanders, and the constant passing of messengers between Canada and Johnstown."
"I have but left the Hall," said I. "I saw nothing to warrant suspicion." And I told them who were there and how they conducted at supper.
Shew