“Keep after ’em, nevvy,” he cried. “A few more such captures and old Monmouth may rest secure.”
“Report hath it that nothing short of hanging will be given Edwards,” Fairfax told him. “Few of the band will escape a sentence of some sort. Do you not think, Uncle Tom, that a few days could be taken now to get these maidens home? It preys upon my mind that they are still here.”
“And upon mine also, son,” said his mother gravely. “If these Tories are as vindictive as I hear they are there will be no safety for any of us since you have taken one of their leaders.”
“She speaks truth, nevvy. These girls have no part in this war. Pennsylvania hath woes of her own to endure. It is not just, or fitting that any of her citizens should be called upon to bear ours also. They shall go home.”
So once again Peggy and Sally gathered their belongings together for an early start to Trenton. All the day before the maidens were in a pleasurable state of excitement. Each realized that New Jersey was no longer a place for them, so they were glad to go; still, there were regrets at parting from these people who had been so kind, and whom the vicissitudes of fortune might preclude them from ever seeing again. Full of this feeling, Peggy found herself the victim of a pleasing melancholy the night before they were to leave, and it was long past midnight ere she was able to sleep. How long she slept she did not know, but it seemed to her that she had just fallen into slumber when something caused her to open her eyes. For a few moments she lay in that strange debatable region between sleeping and waking when the mind cannot distinguish between the real and the imaginary. All at once she sat up, fully awake, every sense strained and alert. Something was wrong. What was it? She listened intently, but such an intense stillness reigned throughout the house that Sally’s soft breathing smote her with a sense of disturbance. Parting the curtains of the bed she glanced apprehensively about the little chamber. The wooden shutters were closed, but through their bow-shaped openings came such a brilliant light that every object in the little room was plainly visible.
“How brightly the moon shines,” was her thought, and completely reassured she was about to draw the curtains when again there came the mysterious sound that had awakened her.
It was a crackling, snapping sound such as seasoned wood makes when the flame catches it in the open air. Very much alarmed Peggy slipped from the bed and ran to one of the windows. Softly she raised the sash, then cautiously swung back one of the shutters. She gave a low cry at the sight that met her gaze, and leaned far out of the window. The barn was a mass of flames, and there were dark forms flitting about among the budding trees. The raiders! For a moment she stood stricken with terror. Then the necessity for action roused her. Fairfax! Thomas Ashley! They must not be caught asleep. What would be their portion should these men find them? Full of excitement, her heart beating hard and fast, she sped into the adjoining room where Nurse Johnson slept.
“Awake!” she cried shaking her violently, her whisper rendered sharp and penetrating by fear. “The raiders are here. Thy son, Friend Nurse! There is danger. Oh, wake! wake!”
“What is it, Peggy?” Nurse Johnson was roused at last. “Are you ill?”