CHAPTER XXIII
AN INTERRUPTED JOURNEY
The surprise of Little Peter at the unexpected action of Benzeor was increased when the escaping man seated himself in the whaleboat and quickly began to row the long craft back toward the Washington.
"Hurrah for the redcoats! Hurrah for King George! Hurrah for the British!" shouted Benzeor defiantly.
This boldness was as surprising to Peter as the sudden departure had been; but, as he glanced toward the Washington and saw that the attacking party had already boarded her, and then realized that he himself had been left alone by his recent companions, he was quickly recalled to the necessity of action on his own part. Without waiting to observe the further movements of Benzeor or the British, he instantly turned and entered the woods; but a quarter of an hour had elapsed before he overtook the men, whom he found resting by the side of the road which led past the home of Ted Wilson.
To this house the entire party now made their way, and as Ted listened to the story of Benzeor's perfidy, his anger broke forth afresh.
"I never ought to have let the rascal go!" exclaimed Ted excitedly. "I had him right there in the river, and if you hadn't interfered with me I'd have fixed him so that he never would have betrayed any one again. Now the rascal's where he can keep up his evil doings."
"He's shown where he stands, any way. That's some comfort," said one of the men.
"It may comfort you, but it doesn't me," replied Ted. "I'm a peaceable man, I am, and I never cared much about whether it was to be the King of England or the Continental Congress that ruled over me. I don't see as it would make very much difference to me, for my part. But when that rascal hangs my Sallie up on the limb of a tree,—Sallie's my wife, ye know,—why, then Benzeor Osburn has jest got to look out for himself."
Ted's anger was so evident that Little Peter almost had a feeling of sympathy for Benzeor, angry as he himself was at the treachery his neighbor had displayed.
"Are you going to follow him up, Ted?" inquired the leader.
"Am I goin' to follow him? That's just what I'm going to do! I'm goin' to send Sallie and the babies over to your house, and I'm just goin' to leave my place here,—they can't steal that, any way,—and follow up Benzeor Osburn till I find him. I don't care if he runs clear to the other side of the Alleghany Mountains,—I've heard as how there was some mountains by that name away out west somewhere,—why, Benzeor'll wake up some fine mornin' and find himself a-shakin' hands with me. Yes, sir, this land o' ours may put up with the Hessians, but it isn't big enough to hold such a fellow as Benzeor! Hangin' Sallies! I'll put a stop to his fine work! Sallie's my wife, ye know!"
"Remember us to him when you meet him, Ted," said the leader. "You can charge him for the loss of the Washington, too!"
"His door will be free of all chalk scores when I'm done with him," said Ted savagely. "That's goin' to be my work, clearin' the land of pine robbers, just as I once cleared it of pine stumps!"
"We must start on now," said the leader. "Take your wife and children up to my house, Ted. The women can fight together against the pine robbers, if they come there."
"They won't come there," replied Ted. "There'll be fewer of 'em when I've done my duty. There'll be no more hangin' Sallies. Sallie's my wife, ye know."
"I suspected as much from your words," said the leader. "Are you going with us?" he added, turning, as he spoke, to Little Peter.
"No," replied the lad.
"What are you going to do now? You can't get your father out of the New York prisons. You'd better come with us."
"I can't. I've other work to do."
"Have it your own way, my lad, though I think you're making a mistake not to come with us."
The band soon departed, leaving Little Peter and the huge Ted behind them. There was slight likelihood that the men who had captured the Washington would venture on shore to pursue the fugitives, and the knowledge of this fact had made all the parties feel comparatively safe.
"What are you goin' to do now?" said Ted, when he and Little Peter were left alone.
"I'm going straight to Benzeor's house. After what I have just seen, I'm afraid to leave the children there another minute. I never would have thought Benzeor was a traitor, never! But he is, there's no doubt about it now! I don't know what will become of them. I don't know where to turn, or what to do."
Little Peter then went on to relate the story of the sad loss which had occurred in his home, Ted listening meanwhile with intense interest.
"It's Benzeor's work!" he said excitedly when the lad at last stopped. "Yes, sir! You mark my words, Benzeor Osburn was at the bottom of it all. You'll have to go in with me and help rid the land of him! The rascal! Goin' round hangin' Sallies and shootin' mothers!"
"I've all I want to do to look after my little brothers and sisters," said Little Peter quietly. "I don't know what I can do with them, but I can't leave them at Benzeor's!"
"No more you can't," said Ted. "I'll tell you what to do with 'em. Jest bring 'em all down here and leave 'em with Sallie over at the captain's. I think they'll be safe enough there."
"Thank you; but it's most too far to bring them, I'm afraid. It's a good twenty miles from here, and we haven't a horse left."
"I wish I could let ye have one, but all of mine are gone too, except one little mule; and you'd have to turn him round and make him go backward if you wanted to go anywhere, he's such an obstinate little beast. I'll tell you what I'll do, Peter! Just as soon as I've taken Sallie—she's my wife, ye know—and the babies over to the captain's, I'll go with ye and help ye out. That's what I'll do for ye."
"Thank you again," replied Peter, "but I don't think you had better do it. You may be needed around here, and I don't know yet what I shall do."
"Maybe you're right, Peter, maybe you're right. Well, have it your own way. When are you goin' to start?"
"Right away."
Little Peter at once bade his friend good-by and started forth on his long walk. He had appreciated the offer of the mighty Ted, but there were many reasons why he wished to be alone, for a time at least. Benzeor's treachery was still so fresh in his mind that he knew not what to do, and the excitement attending the escape from the Washington had not yet disappeared. Then, too, he did not know what the angry giant might be moved to do. Ordinarily good-natured and easy-going as the powerful man was, when once his wrath was aroused there would be no limits to what it might lead him into. And Little Peter's heart was too heavy, under the burden of his recent sorrows and present perplexities, to permit the lad to be drawn aside from the task which had presented itself to him.
He had gone about half the way down the long lane which led from Ted's house to the road, when he heard some one calling to him. Looking quickly behind him, he discovered Ted himself running rapidly down the path toward him.
Startled by the sight and fearful that some new danger had appeared, he stopped, and then turned back to meet the man.
"What is it? What is it?" he called.
Ted stopped as the lad called, and, shaking one of his great fists in the air, replied, "Hangin' Sallies! Hangin' Sallies!"
"What? Have they tried it again?"
"No! Once was enough, I should think, when Sallie's my wife, ye know! I just wanted to remind ye what the password was. It's 'Hangin' Sallies,' that's what it is! Ye won't forget it, will ye?"
"No," replied Peter soberly. "I'll try to keep it in mind."
"That's right! See that ye do! Hangin' Sallies, that's the word. I jest wanted to remind ye of it, that was all. Hangin' Sallies! Hangin' Sallies!"
Little Peter resumed his journey, but, until he passed around the bend in the road, whenever he looked behind him he could see the mighty Ted standing in the lane, and shaking his fist in the air if he perceived that the lad beheld him.
What a strange man Ted was, thought Little Peter as he walked on. He had known him for years, as had most of the people in Old Monmouth. His feats in the country wrestling matches had made him famous, and marvelous were the tales told concerning his almost superhuman strength. It had been related that Ted one time had lifted a great ox bodily from the ground, and Little Peter had believed the report. And yet, with it all, Ted had always seemed to him like a boy. Kind-hearted, ever willing to grant a favor or do anything within his power for another, he had never before seen him when his wrath was kindled. "Hanging Sallies!" Perhaps Ted's feelings were only natural when he had discovered the pine robbers in their cruel act. Benzeor would not be likely to escape from his hands so easily, if the angry man once held him in his grasp again.
But Sallie Wilson was still alive, and the lad thought Ted's position was far better than his own. His mother shot by the pine robbers, his father sent away a prisoner, perhaps to die of starvation in those dreadful prison ships of which so many stories already had been told, and his younger brothers and sisters homeless and helpless, and all looking to him as their sole support. What could he do? Surely no one in Old Monmouth had suffered more than he, although Old Monmouth itself had known more of the evils of war than almost any other portion of our land in all that fearful struggle of the American Revolution.
"How?"
Little Peter's meditations were suddenly interrupted by Indian John, who stepped forth into the road and greeted him with his customary salutation.
"Where did you come from, John? I thought you were up in Moluss's wigwam."
"Moluss gone, Bath gone, John gone, too. Come to help friend. Find fader?" he suddenly added, peering keenly, as he spoke, into Little Peter's face.
"No; my father has been sent to New York."
"Bad. What boy do now?"
"I'm going back to Benzeor's to look after the children."
The Indian's eyes betrayed the question he might have asked, but did not. Indian John soon induced his companion to abandon the road and follow him through the forests. Many a mile was saved in this manner, and, under the burning heat of the sun, the shade of the great trees was most grateful to the sadly troubled lad. There was something in the presence of the majestic trees which seemed to appeal to Little Peter. He was alone and yet not alone with such companions. Indian John also seemed to share in his feelings, and seldom spoke. For mile after mile they continued on their journey, and the shadows were lengthening when at last they stepped forth into the road, which Peter recognized, and then knew that Benzeor's house was not far away. The long journey would soon be ended now, and fresh hope came to the weary lad, as he thought that he would see the children again.
What he should do with them, however, was a problem still unsolved, and the solution apparently was no nearer than when he had set forth on his journey from the home of Ted Wilson. With all of the anger which had come with the discovery of Benzeor's treachery, Little Peter could not bring himself to believe that either Sarah or her mother had any knowledge of his evil deeds. His confidence in them was still unbroken, and his sole hope was that they might be able to suggest some plan by which the children could be cared for. As for leaving them at Benzeor's, that was impossible; and as the lad thought again of the discovery of his neighbor's crimes, he quickened his pace, and he and his companion began to walk more rapidly along the hot and dusty road. Not more than two miles remained between them and the end of their journey, and, in his eagerness, Little Peter almost forgot his weariness and constantly urged the Indian by his side to increase their speed.
They had been in the road but a few minutes when they heard the sound of horsemen approaching from behind them. All unsuspicious of danger, Little Peter and Indian John halted, waiting for the men to pass. There were five of them in the band, and all were riding swiftly. Their horses were dripping, and with almost every step flung the foam from their mouths. Surely something must be wrong, to induce men to ride like that upon such a warm day, thought Little Peter; but his surmises were quickly driven from his mind when he recognized Fenton and Benzeor in advance of the band.
Startled by the unexpected sight, he hardly knew what to do. The men were too near for him to hope to escape their notice now; and, even while he hesitated, he saw Benzeor quickly draw the rein on the horse he was riding and leap to the ground.
"Get him! Shoot him! Stop that boy!" shouted Benzeor.
Indian John had been keenly watching the approaching band, and as he heard the shout of the angry man, he touched Peter upon the arm, and said, "Come."
Little Peter instantly responded, and followed his companion as he started swiftly across the open lot toward the woods which lay beyond it.