“Be it so!” said Edgar Sherwood, scornfully, and was gone.
One month has passed away since the events last related, and during this time Edgar Sherwood had become a captain in the American army, and was stationed with his regiment at Fort Ann.
It was a bright, clear morning in the month of September, and a gentle breeze caused the flag of freedom to rise and fall in graceful folds over the garrison, inspiring the heart of every loyal man with patriotic fervor as he looked up to it.
Within the fort, every thing seemed in commotion, but without, all was quiet, and an observer would never have surmised that any thing particular was going on. The soldiers were hurrying back and forth; and some were collected in groups busily talking.
During the past night, the commander had received information from one of his spies that the notorious band, called the Tory League, led by their villainous chief, Iron Hand, was preparing to attack the house of a prominent Whig, and that it would be necessary to send a company or two of men to secure the patriot’s safety.
The colonel had chosen Captain Sherwood to go on this little expedition with his company, and the men were now preparing for that purpose.
The Tory League was composed of Tories and Indians, whom King George, foreseeing at the beginning of the war would be valuable allies to him if but secured, sent over agents to enlist in his cause. Among these agents came the man who had made himself so notorious throughout the country under the title of Iron Hand, which name the Indians gave him. The villainous deeds of this band and their white chief were countless, and they had become a terror to all stanch Whigs.
A large reward had been offered for the capture of Iron Hand, dead or alive, but to no profit; he was too artful for his enemy. In fact, no one, as yet, in the Continental army had been able even to obtain a sight of him. Search had been made for the rendezvous of the band but without success.
The attacks of the Tory League were always made with so much privacy as to exclude the sufferers, not only from succor, but frequently, through a dread of future depredations, from the commiseration of their neighbors also.
The soldiers received the orders to prepare for action with delight; excitement of any kind had been scarce for the last few months around the fort, and time dragged heavily on with them. Captain Sherwood felt some pleasure also on being chosen for this occasion, as he had had but little opportunity to show his valor since his enlistment. Yet, all day long his face wore a troubled look, and his whole manner seemed changed from usual gayety to sadness. The few who had observed this attributed it to fear, and yet could not believe that such a man should even know the meaning of the word.