CHAPTER VII
Before the house, on a long-limbed, lean horse, whose panting flanks and hanging head showed that he had just completed a long and rapid trip, a young man had stopped. On Catherine's appearance he forgot to shut the large mouth which he had opened in calling. His long, flaxen hair hung down in strands from under his large, three-cornered hat upon his narrow shoulders. The sweat poured from his freckled, saturated, long face, and his dull, water-blue eyes had a frightened look as Catherine, aghast, called out:
"For God's sake, what has happened?"
"Where is he?" stammered he on the horse, and turned his eyes in every direction.
"You are looking for Lambert Sternberg?" asked Catherine.
The rider bowed.
"I will call him. Dismount and rest yourself a moment. I will soon be back," said Catherine.
The rider did as the young girl had told him, climbed in a tired way out of the high saddle, and tied his horse to the iron ring. As Catherine turned to go, Lambert came around the house. He was leading Hans by the halter, and called out:
"God bless you, Adam Bellinger! What brings you here?"
"The French are here!" replied Adam.
Lambert started, and looked quickly toward Catherine, who on her part kept her large, questioning eyes fixed on him.
"What does that mean?" asked Lambert. "Where are they? What do you know, Adam? By the thousand, man, speak!"
"I know nothing," said Adam. "My father sent me."
"What for? What is to be done?"
"I was in the field." said Adam, "when my father came running up, saying that I must unharness and saddle the mare; that Herkimer had been there; that the French were on the march; and that I should report it everywhere, and that this afternoon all should come to his house to consult as to what was to be done."
"Then it cannot be so very bad," said Lambert, breathing more freely. "Herkimer is a man of sense, and would not ask us to come to his house if there was very pressing danger to our own homes. But how did you learn that I had returned?"
"I was at Aunt Ursul's, who sent me here to tell you that she was going to the meeting, and that if you should not wish to leave the young lady, who may indeed be your bride, alone, you should take her along and leave her at Eisenlord's on the way, or at Voltz', where the women intend to remain at home, or at our house."
"It is well," said Lambert, as he took the hand of Catherine, standing by him still and pale. "Now come in, Adam Bellinger, and take a bite and a drink. You appear to need it, and the poor beast too. We will be ready in ten minutes."
Lambert shoved up the movable crib, while Catherine went into the house and brought out a loaf of bread which Adam cut in pieces for his horse. Then they all went in and sat down to the hastily prepared meal, to which Adam addressed himself so earnestly that he had little time to answer Lambert's many questions.
Catherine learned enough, as she silently listened, to form a conception of the real situation. She had often heard Lambert speak of Nicolas Herkimer, one of the richest and noblest German settlers, who owned a large farm and a castle-like house on the Mohawk, at the mouth of Canada Creek. The year before, during Belletre's raid, he had been of great service to the settlements. The governor had given him a captain's commission, and had intrusted him, for the future, with the defense of the neighboring German districts.
"He will already have formed his plans," said Lambert. "We on the creek will doubtless have to look out for ourselves, we are pushed ahead so far. There shall be nothing lacking with us, though I did not expect to have the murdering incendiaries here so soon again."
Out of Lambert's entire being spoke the settled courage of a man who well knew the threatened danger, but was resolved to defy it, come what would. His eyes sought Catherine's, who went quietly back and forth serving the men, and whose large, glistening eyes said: "You see, beloved, I am, like you, quiet and self-contained."
Adam seemed to have forgotten all his fear, while engaged in eating and drinking. He looked up at Catherine, when she filled his plate for the second time, bowing with a friendly grin. At last he slowly laid down his knife and fork and looked about him contentedly, as though he would say: "One sits here a good deal more comfortably than in the cursed high saddle of the mare, who threw me at every step from one side to the other."
"Are you ready, Adam?" asked Lambert, who had risen and had hung about him his rifle.
"Indeed," replied Adam, "but hardly the mare. The poor beast is not accustomed to anything like this."
"I will water her, and saddle Hans," said Lambert.
Catherine followed him to the door. Lambert caught her hand and said: "Catherine, I thank you, I thank you with my whole heart. I now know that I need cast no more reproaches on myself."
"You should not have cast any," said Catherine. "Your affairs are mine Your fate is mine. I live and die with you."
"And so will I give every drop of my blood for you," said Lambert, "but I hope to God that there are yet many good days appointed us. It cannot for the present have much significance. Conrad, who was up there for a week, and in the region from which they must come, surely knows more about our enemies than anyone else; and he told me that there is at least no immediate danger."
"So I think, too," said Catherine, "and for that reason I will ask a favor of you, Lambert. You have on my account slightly neglected your duty. Had you returned alone you would yesterday already have seen and spoken with your friends, for you would have taken the road through the valley instead of through the woods. To-day it is fortunate that your friend Adam has found us, for you might easily have failed to be where you belong. This is not right, and lies heavy on my mind. Now you have a long ride. I know well that Hans can carry us both, but he will go better if you alone ride him. And then what would be the result should everyone, on such an occasion, drag his wife with him? The others also stay at home. You will leave me here, Lambert. Is it not so?"
"Now it is getting to be time," said Adam Bellinger, coming out of the door.
Lambert stood irresolute. He saw no danger in leaving Catherine alone, but it was very trying for him to separate himself from her just at this time.
"Conrad may come back to his dinner and find the house deserted. Surely it is better, Lambert, that I stay here."
"Well, as you will," said Lambert.
He again unbuckled the pillion that he had put upon Hans.
"Does not the maiden go along?" asked Adam, who was already mounted.
Lambert did not answer.
"Well then, good-bye, young lady; and best thanks. Hot! Mare!"
He turned his horse, which left the crib unwillingly.
Catherine flew into Lambert's arms.
"May you live happy, beloved. I hope you are not displeased with me?"
"With you?"
His lips trembled. Silently he pressed Catherine to his breast; then with a mighty effort he tore himself away, swung himself upon Hans, galloped after his companion, who was trotting ahead on his long-limbed horse, and at every step of the animal flew up in the air, while his sharp elbows moved up and down like wings.