"Go, my boys! It is no small honor to carry such a flag and such news, and both of you shall have it," said Mr. Howard. "Owen, hurry on and saddle Hickory. Martin, leave your saddle pockets here, but take out the pistol which you and Owen were speaking of. It is yours; buckle it around your waist. It will look more like war. And now, stranger," he continued, turning to the man, "you are welcome! Walk into the house. I'll have breakfast ready for you in a short time, and we'll see that one of the negroes takes care of your horse."
"Before the boys start," said the stranger, "I must say a word to them about giving the flag, and especially the message, to a reliable person. They were intrusted to an officer of one of our Kentucky regiments. He changed horses eight times before he reached Tennessee. The last horse dropped in a marshy country, and the poor fellow was forced to push his way on foot for five miles before he came to a settlement. He fell exhausted at the door of a farmer's house. The message has been given to four persons since that time. If the boys can carry it to Louisville, the soldiers there will see it safe to Pittsburg; beyond that the forts are so close that it can be carried one hundred and fifty miles in twenty-four hours."
"I can easily arrange the matter," replied Mr. Howard; "there is a friend of mine by the name of Sims, who lives twelve miles beyond Bardstown on the Louisville road; he is a true patriot in whose hands the letter will be safe. The boys can carry the message twenty miles, and friend Sims can take it twenty-eight more."
Martin and Owen were soon ready for their long ride, strapping their pistols around their waists and hanging their powder flasks at their sides.
"This flag for you," said the stranger, handing it to Martin; "and this for you," he continued, giving Jackson's letter to Owen. "Give it to no one except your father's friend. The President, Congress, and the whole country are waiting anxiously for the news from New Orleans; but I have my reasons for suspecting that there are some unprincipled wretches who would gladly intercept such joyful tidings. Even if you die for it, my boy, do not give this letter to any one but the man who is to carry it to Louisville."
Owen's heart beat with patriotic pride as he placed the missive deep down in his coat pocket, and promised to guard it faithfully.
The whole family came out to bid the boys "God speed." When Martin waved the flag, and both he and Owen fired a farewell salute from their pistols, they were answered by shouts while hats and bonnets were tossed in the air. Little Robin, who, as the reader has seen, was always frightened at the report of a fire-arm, sought shelter behind Mrs. Howard's apron; while Wash, who thought that Owen never fired a pistol without killing something, sallied forth in quest of the victim.
My readers have all heard of "Paul Revere's Ride," and how the patriot, spreading the news from farm to farm, aroused the American yeomen to battle with the British regulars.
"How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again,
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load."
The tidings which our young friends carried resembled in some respects the message of Paul Revere—his was the cry of battle, theirs the shout of victory; he called his countrymen to defend their rights, they proclaimed that their country's wrongs had been redressed. On they sped, their young hearts burning with patriotic pride. Firing their pistols to attract the attention of the farmers near the road, pausing for a moment to show the flag and tell the good news, then dashing on again, in less than two hours the boys were galloping up the hill in sight of Bardstown.