Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory Ascendency

by John Pendleton Kennedy

The army of mountaineers halted at Gilbert-town only until a vidette from Williams brought tidings of Ferguson's late movements. These reached Campbell early in the day succeeding his arrival at the village, and apprised him that Williams followed on the footsteps of the British partisan, and would expect to unite his force with that of the allied volunteers at the Cowpens—(a field not yet distinguished in story)—whither he expected to arrive on the following day. Campbell determined, in consequence, to hasten to this quarter.

The present position of Mildred, notwithstanding the kind sympathy with which every one regarded her, was one that wrought severely upon her feelings. She had heretofore encountered the hardships of her journey, and borne herself through the trials, so unaccustomed to her sex, with a spirit that had quailed before no obstacle. But now, finding herself in the train of an army just moving forth to meet its enemy, with all the vicissitudes and peril of battle in prospect, it was with a sinking of the heart she had not hitherto known, that she felt herself called upon to choose between the alternative of accompanying them in their march, or being left behind. To adopt the first resolve, she was painfully conscious would bring her to witness scenes, and perhaps endure privations, the very thought of which made her shudder; whilst, to remain at a distance from the theatre of events in which she was so deeply concerned, was a thought that suggested many anxious fears, not less intolerable than the untried sufferings of the campaign. She had, thus far, braved all dangers for the sake of being near to Butler; and now to hesitate or stay her step, when she had almost reached the very spot of his captivity, and when the fortunes of war might soon throw her into his actual presence, seemed to her like abandoning her duty at the most critical moment of trial. She was aware that he was in the camp of the enemy; that this enemy was likely to be overtaken and brought to combat; and it was with a magnified terror that she summoned up to her imagination the possible mischances which might befal Arthur Butler in the infliction of some summary act of vengeance provoked by the exasperation of conflict. "I have tempted the dangers of flood and storm for him—of forest and field—noon-day battle and midnight assault," she said, with an earnestness that showed she had shaken all doubts from her mind; "I have taken my vow of devotion to his safety—to be performed with such fidelity as befits the sacred bond between us. I will not blench now, in the last struggle, though perils thicken around me. I'm prepared for the worst."

Allen Musgrove, Robinson, and Henry combated this resolve with joint expostulation, urging upon Mildred the propriety of her tarrying in the village, at least until the active operations of the army were terminated—an event that might be expected in a few days. But it was not until Campbell himself remonstrated with her against the indiscretion of her purpose, and promised to afford her the means of repairing to the scene of action at any moment she might think her presence there useful, that she relinquished her determination to accompany the army on its present expedition. It was, in consequence, ultimately arranged that she should remain in the quarters provided for her in Gilbert-town, attended by the miller and his daughter, whilst a few soldiers were to be detailed as a guard for her person. With this train of attendants, she was to be left at liberty to draw as near to the centre of events as her considerate and faithful counsellor, Allen Musgrove, might deem safe.

Another source of uneasiness to her arose out of the separation which she was about to endure from the sergeant and her brother Henry. Horse Shoe, swayed by an irresistible and affectionate longing to be present at the expected passage of arms, which might so materially affect the fortunes of his captive fellow-soldier, Butler, had represented to Mildred the value of the services he might be able to render; and as the friendly solicitude of the miller and his daughter left nothing within their power to be supplied, towards the comfort and protection of the lady, she did not refuse her consent to this temporary desertion—although it naturally awakened some painful sense of bereavement, at a moment when her excited feelings most required the consolation of friends.

Henry, captivated with the prospect of military adventure, and magnified in his own esteem by the importance which Stephen Foster and the Rangers playfully assigned to his position in the ranks, had so far lost sight of the special duty he had assumed, as his sister's companion, that he now resolutely rebelled against all attempts to persuade him to remain in the village; and Mildred, at last, upon the pledge of the sergeant to keep the cadet under his own eye, reluctantly yielded to a demand which she found it almost impossible to resist.

These matters being settled, it was not long before Mildred and Mary Musgrove, seated at the window of the house which had been selected as their present abode, saw the long array of the army glide by at a brisk pace, and watched the careless and laughing faces of the soldiers, as they filed off through the only street in the village, and took the high road leading south.

The troops had been gone for several hours, and Allen Musgrove and the few soldiers who had been left behind, had scattered themselves over the village, to get rid of the tedium of idleness in the gossip of the scant population which the place afforded. Mildred had retired to a chamber, and Mary loitered from place to place like one disturbed with care. All the party felt that deep sense of loneliness which is so acutely perceptible to those who suddenly change a life of toil and incident for one of rest, while events of busy interest are in expectation.

"They are gone, ma'am," said Mary, as she now crept into Mildred's presence, after having travelled over nearly the whole village, in the state of disquietude I have described; "they are gone at least twenty miles, I should think, by this time; and I never would have believed that I could have cared so much about people I never saw before. But we are so lonesome, ma'am. And young Mister Henry Lindsay, I should say, must be getting tired by this time of day. As for the matter of that, people may get tireder by standing still than by going on."

"How far do they march to-day?" inquired Mildred; "have you heard your father say, Mary?"

"I heard him and the troopers who are here allow," replied the maiden, "that Colonel Campbell wouldn't reach Colonel Williams before to-morrow afternoon. They said it was good fifty miles' travel. They look like brave men—them that marched this morning, ma'am; for they went out with good heart. The Lord send that through Him they may be the means of deliverance to Major Butler!"