French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America. Everett-Green Evelyn
of their lives? Why not be a party of bold Rangers, scouring the forests, and doing whatever work comes to hand? Men have banded themselves together for this work before now; why may not we do the like?"
"Why not, indeed?" cried Fritz, leaping to his feet. "I pine in the restraint of this town; I long for the forest and the plain once more. My blood, too, is hot within me at the thought of what has been done and will be done again. Let us band ourselves together as brothers in arms. There must be work and to spare for those who desire it."
Ashley thoughtfully stroked his chin, looking round the circle before him. He was a shrewd and thoughtful man, and there was nothing of cowardice in his nature, although he was cautious and careful.
"It is not a bad thought, Nephew John," he said; "and yet I had been thinking of something different for some of you intrepid and adventurous youths to do. I had thought of sending news of the state of parties here to our friends and kinsmen in England. When all is said and done, it is to England that we must look for help. She must send us generals to command us, and she must help us with her money. There are many families across the water who would open their purses on our behalf right generously were our sad case made known to them. Letters are sent continually, but it is the spoken tale that moves the heart. I had thought to send across myself to such of our friends and families as still regard us as belonging to them. If they made a response such as I look for, we should soon have means at our disposal to augment what the tardy Assembly may do by an auxiliary force, equipped and furnished with all that can be needed. But you cannot be in two places at once.
"What think you, my young friends? Will you serve your distressed brethren better as Rangers of the forest, or as emissaries to England?"
"Why not divide our forces?" asked John Stark; "there are enough of us for that. I have often heard Humphrey speak of a wish to cross the sea, and to visit the land from which we have all come. Why not let him choose a comrade, and go thither with letters and messages, and tell his tale in the ears of friends? And whilst they are thus absent, why should not the rest of us make up a party of bold spirits, and go forth into the wilderness, and there carry on such work of defence and aggression as we find for us to do?"
"Ay. I have no love for the unknown ocean," said Charles; "I have other work to do than to visit new lands. I have a vow upon me, and I cannot rest till it be accomplished."
Humphrey and Julian looked at each other. Already they had spoken of a visit to England. Both desired to see the lands of the Eastern Hemisphere from whence their fathers had come. Hitherto they had not seen how this could be accomplished; but Ashley's words opened out an unexpected way. If the citizens of Philadelphia wanted to send messengers to their friends across the water, they would gladly volunteer for the service.
"If Julian will go with me, I will gladly go," said Humphrey.
"I will go, with all my heart," answered Julian at once; "and we will seek and strive to do the pleasure of those who send us."
Ashley's face beamed upon the pair. He knew by this time that no better messenger than Julian Dautray could be found. He had a gift of eloquence and a singularly attractive personality. His nature was gentle and refined-curiously so considering his upbringing-and he had a largeness of heart and a gift of sympathy which was seldom to be met with amongst the more rugged sons of the north.
He had made himself something of a power already in the circle into which he had been thrown; and when it was known amongst Ashley's friends and acquaintance that his wife's brother, together with Julian Dautray, would go to England with their representations to friends and to those in authority, a liberal response was made as to their outfit and introductions, and the young men were surprised to find themselves suddenly raised to a place of such importance and distinction.
It was an exciting time for Susanna and for all in the house. John Stark came to and fro, bringing news that he had found fresh volunteers to join the band of Rangers, who were already making preparations for departure upon their perilous life of adventure.
Some of the older citizens looked doubtful, and spoke of the rigours of the winter; but John laughed, and Charles smiled his strange, mirthless smile, and all declared themselves fearless and ready to face whatever might be in store. Come what might, they would go to the help of the settlers, be the Assembly ever so dilatory in sending help.
"But you will not get killed?" Susanna would plead, looking from one face to the other. She was fond of John, who had been like a brother to her all her life; she had a great admiration for handsome Fritz, who often spent whole evenings telling her wonderful stories of the far south whilst she plied her needle over the rough garments the Rangers were to take with them. It seemed to her a splendid thing these men were about to do, but she shrank from the thought that harm might come to them. She sometimes almost wished they had not thought of it, and that they had been content to remain in the city, drilling with the town militia, and thinking of the coming spring campaign.
"We must take our chance," answered Fritz, as he bent over her with a smile on one of those occasions. "You would not have us value our lives above the safety of our distressed brethren or the honour of our nation? The things which have happened here of late have tarnished England's fair name and fame. You would not have us hold back, if we can help to bring back the lustre of that name? I know you better than that."
"I would have you do heroic deeds," answered Susanna, with quickly-kindled enthusiasm, "only I would not have you lose your lives in doing it."
"We must take our chance of that," answered Fritz, with a smile, "as other soldiers take theirs. But we shall be a strong and wary company; and I have passed already unscathed through many perils. You will not forget us when we are gone, Susanna? I shall think of you sitting beside this comfortable hearth, when we are lying out beneath the frosty stars, with the world lying white beneath us, wrapped in its winding sheet!"
"Ah, you will suffer such hardships! they all say that."
There was a look of distress in the girl's eyes; but Fritz laughed aloud.
"Hardship! what is hardship? I know not the name. We can track game in the forest, and fish the rivers for it. We can make ourselves fires of sparkling, crackling pine logs; we can slip along over ice and snow upon our snowshoes and skates, as I have heard them described, albeit I myself shall have to learn the trick of them-for we had none such methods in my country, where the cold could never get a grip of us. Fear not for us, Susanna; we shall fare well, and we shall do the work of men, I trow. I am weary already of the life of the city; I would go forth once more to my forest home."
There was a sparkle almost like that of tears in the girl's eyes, and a little unconscious note as of reproach in her voice.
"That is always the way with men; they would ever be doing and daring. Would that I too were a man! there is naught in the world for a maid to do."
"Say not so," cried Fritz, taking the little hand and holding it tenderly between his own. "Life would be but a sorry thing for us men were it not for the gentle maidens left at home to think of us and pray for us and welcome us back again. Say, Susanna, what sort of a welcome will you have for me, when I come to claim it after my duty is done?"
She raised her eyes to his, and the colour flooded her face.
"I shall welcome you back with great gladness of heart, Fritz, and I shall pray for you every day whilst you are away."
"And not forget me, even if other fine fellows of officers, such as we begin to see in our streets now, come speaking fine words to you, and seeking to win smiles from your bright eyes? You will keep a place in your heart still for the rough Ranger Fritz?"
Susanna's eyes lighted with something of mischievous amusement, and then as she proceeded grew more grave and soft.
"My good mother will take care that I have small converse with the gay young officers, Fritz. But in truth, even were it not so, I should never care for them, or think of them as I do of you. You are facing perils they would not. You are brave with the bravery of a true hero. It is with the Rangers of the forest that my heart will go. Be sure you break it not, Fritz, by too rashly exposing yourself to peril."
"Sweetheart!" was his softly-spoken answer; and Susanna went to her bed that night with a heart that beat high with a strange