CHAPTER XIV
THE WAY TO CRANBERRY
It was late in the evening when Tom started from Colonel Simcoe's camp in company with the lieutenant, whose name he had learned was Ward, and the band of six men. A hearty supper had greatly refreshed the weary lad, and although he was aware that his companions were not without suspicions of him, he still had hopes that he would be able to convince them of his knowledge of the country roads, and then could leave them. His efforts to convince the colonel that he was merely a country lad, who had taken no part in the hostilities, had not been without a measure of success, and if they met with no mishap on the road, doubtless they would be willing for him to depart.
As to leading the little band into Cranberry, Tom had not the slightest objection to that, for it would be going directly toward the place where Washington's army lay, and every step was one nearer the men whom he was most eager to join.
The entire party were mounted, and a horse was also provided for Tom. To be sure, the steed was not a remarkable one, yet, as the lad looked him over before he mounted, he was satisfied that riding would be much easier than walking, and of walking Tom had had sufficient, he thought, on that hot June morning.
"Now, my lad," said Lieutenant Ward, as the party prepared to move, "if you do well by us this night, I have two half joes for you in my pocket. On the other hand, if you fail us, or try to lead us into any trap, you shall have a good taste of the lead my men carry, or know how it feels to dance at one end of a rope with your feet a good yard from the ground. You hear what I'm saying, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," Tom replied. "I can lead you straight to Cranberry, but of course I can't tell what men we shall meet on the way. All I know is that General Dickinson has men out, just as you have."
"Never mind your 'General' Dickinson. I only wish we might have the good fortune to meet the rebel himself. You show us the way and we'll look after any of his men we may fall in with. All we want of you is to show us the way. They won't be likely to be out on the road in the night."
Tom by no means felt so positive concerning that as the lieutenant did, but the word to start was then given, and mounting his horse he departed from the camp with the men.
The moon was now full and hung low in the heavens like a great ball of fire. The frogs in the swamps were croaking loudly as the men rode past. The air of the summer night was almost motionless, and the heat of the day had only slightly decreased with the coming of the darkness. In all his life in Jersey, Tom had never known a hotter "spell"—as the natives termed it—than they had experienced during the past few days. A Hessian was riding beside him, and Tom could not understand how it was that he still insisted upon wearing the heavy fur hat in such weather.
So intensely warm was the night that the band were compelled to halt at frequent intervals to rest their dripping steeds. The occasional breeze was like the hot breath from an oven, and, in spite of the fact that he was riding, Tom's face was wet with perspiration. The progress was necessarily slow, but the lad soon came to Doctor's Creek, and as they found the bridge across that stream intact, the lieutenant was pleased and warmly praised the young guide.
The Assanpink Creek was crossed not long afterwards, and as the bridge across that also was still standing, the elation of the leader was visibly increased and he ordered the men to halt for another rest. Some without removing their clothing waded into the stream, which was narrow and shallow where they were, and led their horses in after them. The heaving sides of the poor beasts were wet with sweat and foam, and the men themselves seemed to be but little better. Tom thought he had never suffered more from the heat.
After a rest of a half hour the men resumed their journey. Thus far no one had been met on the road, and the confidence of the band was steadily increasing, in spite of the fact that they were approaching the region in which the American army was supposed to be.
Five miles farther on they came to Rocky Branch and the bridge over this stream was as strong and safe as those they had left behind them.
"The half joes are likely to be yours, my boy," said the lieutenant.
Tom made no reply, for he was thinking that something beside safe bridges might be discovered before they arrived at their destination. Only one more stream remained to be crossed, and then they would be in Cranberry. Just where they were then to go, or what was to be done, Tom did not know. Not a word had been spoken to him concerning the object of the expedition, and all that he was expected to do was to lead the band to Cranberry.
"How much farther have we to go, my boy?" inquired the leader.
"That depends upon the place you've started for," replied Tom. "We shall be in Cranberry after we've gone about ten miles farther, but it covers a good many miles. The township is a big one."
"We'll decide that after we get there. Have we any more streams to cross?"
"Yes. The Millstone river isn't very far away now."
The rests had become so frequent that morning could not be far away, Tom thought. With the appearance of the sun their dangers were likely to be increased, but he made no mention of the fears in his heart, and the band soon started on again.
When they arrived at the Millstone, the first break in the success of the expedition was found, for the bridge was down. This plainly showed that the Americans were not far distant now, and as the lieutenant drew rein on his horse, he said,—
"This means that Sir Henry will find difficulty in getting his baggage train across here. Do you know whether the stream can be forded?"
"Yes," replied Tom, pointing as he spoke to a place a little farther down the stream. "We can wade our horses across there."
"But can the baggage wagons be driven through?"
"That I cannot say. I think not."
"We'll soon find out," said the lieutenant, leading the way to the ford.
The men all followed him, but as the water came well up to their horses' flanks, it was at once evident that Clinton would find great difficulty in getting his baggage train across. The party halted near the bank after they had crossed the stream, and the lieutenant had an earnest conversation with one of his men.
Tom could not hear their words, but he had no doubt that they were discussing the possibilities of Clinton's march by the way they had come that night.
"We'll go on a bit farther," said the lieutenant at last, and the men obediently mounted and followed their leader.
The gray of the dawn had just appeared in the east, and the air was filled with the songs of the birds. They were now in the township of Cranberry, and the end of their journey could not be far away, Tom thought, although he did not know what that end was to be. Thus far they had come without trouble, but with the coming of the morning, and their proximity to the American army, their difficulties were likely soon to be increased.
The men were silent as they rode slowly forward, and were keeping a constant watch on every side. The sun by this time had made its appearance, and the day gave promise of being even warmer than the preceding one. Before them they could see two rude little houses on opposite sides of the road and at the end of lanes which led back from the roadside. The one on the left Tom instantly recognized as the abode of a Quaker named Nathan Brown, or "Friend Nathan," as his neighbors called him. Many a time had Tom been there, and even then he recalled many of the quaint expressions of the gentle man who had steadily opposed all the hostilities, in accordance with his creed which forbade even the resistance to tyrants.
As the lieutenant saw the two houses he drew the rein on his horse, and the party halted.
"It's time we had some breakfast," he said. "I am wondering whether we can't find something here in these houses. Do you know anything about them, my lad?"
"I know the man that lives in the house on the left. He is a Quaker," replied Tom.
"All the better for us. I think I'll let you go up to his house, and I'll send a man up to the other. The rest of us had better stay here and keep watch, for there may be some prowling rebels around here, for all that we may know."
"I'll go," said Tom quickly. "But I can leave you then, can't I? We're in Cranberry now and all you wanted of me was to lead you there."
"Yes, if you wish," replied the lieutenant. "You've done well, but you'd do better still to go back with us. The rebels are not far away, and you may get into trouble. You must do as you like, though," he added. "You've earned your pay," and he drew the two half joes from his pocket and handed them to Tom.
The lad received the money, no small amount to him, and, after thanking the lieutenant, started quickly up the lane which led to Nathan's house. As he glanced behind him, he perceived that one of the men had started towards the other house, while all the others had dismounted and were still in the road, although they evidently were keeping a careful watch.
When Tom drew near the house he saw the Quaker standing in the doorway. His broad-brimmed hat and the peaceful expression upon his face were in marked contrast to the warlike men he had just left behind him in the road.
"How now?" said Nathan, as he perceived who the approaching man was. "Thee travels early, Friend Thomas; I trust all is well at thy house."
Tom quickly dismounted, and in a few words explained how it was that he happened to be there, and what the purpose of his visit was.
"Thee doesn't say so!" said Nathan in surprise. "And the redcoats even now are at my door and seek refreshment?"
"They are out in the road. They want some breakfast, and I think they'll pay you for it."
"Friend Thomas, I think I can trust thee. I have known thee since thou wert a little lad. Ah, these are sad times for men of peace! The sons of Belial are on all sides. Verily, these days are days of wrath."
Tom was puzzled by Nathan's manner and made no reply. The man turned quickly into the house and soon returned with a well-filled stocking in his hands. Tom instantly surmised what the stocking contained, for he was well aware of the banking purposes to which that article of clothing was turned in many of the homes.
"Come with me, Friend Thomas," said Nathan, grasping a hoe as he spoke and leading the way into his garden. There he dug a hole, and, placing his "bank" within it, covered it again with the earth.
"But Nathan," protested Tom, "if these men search your place for money they'll find this spot, and it'll show at once you've hidden something there. The earth is all fresh and moist here, and it's dry all around it."
"Yea, thou speakest truly, Friend Thomas, but I have a thought by which I may yet outwit these men of war. Tarry here till I return."
The Quaker instantly turned and again entered the house. In a moment he appeared, bearing a large bowl in each hand. One contained water, which he poured over the place where his money was concealed, and the other was filled with corn. He quickly scattered the corn over the wet ground, and then, turning towards the barn, called, "Chick! Chick! Chick! Come, chick! Come, chick!"
Instantly there was a fluttering within the barns, the doors to which were wide open, and the hens came running from every direction.
Nathan's face took on a meaning smile as he watched his flock hastening toward him for their breakfast, and then, turning to Tom, he said, "Is it plain to thee, Friend Thomas, that it is still possible for a man of peace to outwit these sons of Belial? Now go and tell thy companions that such food as I have shall be set before them."
Tom laughed at the trick of the Quaker, and then ran back to his horse, and, mounting, started towards his recent companions, whom he could see still waiting in the road. Doubtless they were becoming impatient by this time, and, without waiting to go all the way back to the road, he stopped at a distance and called to them, beckoning with his hand for them to come, as he shouted.
As soon as he perceived that the lieutenant heard him, he turned about and once more rode back to Nathan's house. He then dismounted and tied his horse to a post which stood near to the kitchen door.
As he glanced up he saw that the leader was riding alone up the lane and now was near the house. Just then he heard the sound of a horse behind him, and, turning quickly about, saw young Lieutenant Gordon dash past him on horseback.
Amazed by the sudden and unexpected appearance of his friend, he stood still and watched him as he rode swiftly up the lane directly toward the approaching men. Gordon was leaning low on his horse's neck, and Tom could see that he was grasping a pistol in his right hand.
Before the startled lad could fairly realize what was occurring, he saw the young lieutenant raise his weapon and aim it at the approaching horseman. He waited for the report, but none came. Again Gordon raised his pistol, and once more it flashed without a report.
His heart almost stopped when he perceived that the other members of the band had now entered the lane and were riding towards their leader, although as yet they were far behind him. The young lieutenant had also discovered them, and, instantly turning his horse about, dashed back up the lane, with the British lieutenant in swift pursuit.
Unmindful of Tom, they swept past him, and Gordon turned the corner of the barn. Twice around the barn the men raced their horses, and then Gordon turned his horse into the open doorway and dashed through to the other side.
After him followed the leader of the British band in desperate pursuit, and then, as Tom glanced up, he saw his recent companions come shouting and hallooing into the yard which was between the barn and Friend Nathan's little house.