Rodney, the Ranger, with Daniel Morgan on Trail and Battlefield

by John V. Lane

How Washington loomed before the lad’s eyes on entering the room! Not that he was unduly long of limb, for, though a giant in stature, he was perfectly proportioned; but he seemed to fill the room with his presence. Rodney had wondered how he would compare with the man he so ardently admired, but he could find no point of resemblance between the man who greeted him and the host of Monticello, save in the courteous, kindly manner of both. The boy’s first thought was of the masterful manner of the man before him, yet those calm, blue-gray eyes, looking out from under the heavy brows, did not embarrass him.

This is the man who Ahneota believed was guarded by the Great Spirit, was the thought which flashed through his mind as Washington extended his hand in greeting, the man who had dared take Governor Dinwiddie’s message into the enemy’s country, who had saved the remnants of Braddock’s panic-stricken troops amid a hail of bullets. How could such a massive figure have escaped, with men falling all around him?

Rodney delivered his message and received a reply, was introduced to Mrs. Washington and given refreshments and departed rejoicing that his new work was affording him such pleasant experiences. What satisfaction it must be, he thought, to be so rich, have 160 such a fine home and be respected by all one’s neighbours. If he had such a plantation as this he would hunt and fish to his heart’s content, and Lisbeth Danesford would be proud to introduce him to her cousins from London, and he would not condescend to notice them either, unless they were different from Mogridge, the insolent fellow! What had become of him? Anyhow, though the “Chevalier” finally had gotten the money, there was the satisfaction of winning it from Mogridge. Ah! Rodney, you were not experienced in the tricks of gambling or you would have known that, but for the “Chevalier” watching them, Mogridge and his “pal” would have stripped you of every farthing.

Rodney had read the letter Lisbeth had written from London. He was glad she was finding the nobility, the lords and dukes, not to mention duchesses, such uninteresting people, and that she longed for Virginia. Had she come home? It would be but little out of his way to ride around past “The Hall.” No, he would not call, for he would not wish to meet the squire after the shabby manner in which he had treated them. Possibly he might meet Lisbeth on the road. She was a mighty fine girl, and, if she did get him into that scrape with Roscome’s bull, she had gotten him out. From the girl his thoughts reverted to the man he had just left.

The boy recalled that firm mouth, the grave dignity, and the something about his personality which had said to the lad as to others: “You can trust me.” 161 Rodney Allison was never afterward to doubt George Washington. The next year, when it was said Washington had declared that if necessary he would raise a thousand men at his own expense and march them to Boston, Rodney exclaimed, “He’ll do it, too!” When Boston was evacuated he said, “I knew it.” When Washington, in the face of all sorts of difficulties, led his scattering forces in masterly retreat before the victorious British, Rodney was to say, “He’s doing all that man can do.” But this is getting ahead of the story, for young Allison is now on his way to the home of Richard Henry Lee, who later was to propose independence in the Continental Congress, when to do so might mean loss of not only his property but his life as well, for King George would have liked to make an example of at least a few prominent “traitors,” could he have got them in his clutches.

The meeting with Mr. Lee was for Rodney another pleasant experience; a fine man, and what an agreeable voice he had! Then the lad turned Nat’s head toward home, well pleased with the success that so far had attended his journey.

Two days of travelling brought him to the neighbourhood of his old home. He was aware of a dull ache in his throat as he rode by the school house. It seemed as if he saw his father bowed over the rude bench within. In the distance he caught a glimpse of “The Hall.” There was a feeling of homesickness with it all, and he would have given all that his scant purse contained to see Lisbeth and have her know that 162 he had become a person of some importance. Wouldn’t the squire rave if he knew the errands he had in charge. Ah, but those stiff-necked Tories would have to yield!

As he rode past “The Hall” he looked long at the house. The squire galloped up behind and passed him with a stare and a salute, not recognizing him.

“I wonder he didn’t remember Nat,” thought Rodney, and it was surprising because the squire was a great admirer of a good horse and knew the “points” of all the best in the county.

A little farther along lived the Roscomes. There he was sure of finding a place to spend the night. It was then about four in the afternoon. He would have time to get his supper and then ride up on the hill for one more look at the familiar view.