“That is the proper course, your excellency,” said General Putnam.
So it was decided to remain in readiness, and to keep out double the usual number of sentinels, so as to avoid being taken by surprise.
This course was adopted, and the patriots kept in readiness for instant battle, and waited with what patience they could muster, pestered as they were by the hot weather and myriads of mosquitoes, for the British to make an attack.
Chapter XIV
The Haunted House
Life in the patriot camp often grew irksome to the volunteers of Washington's army. All were eager to meet their red-coat foes, and prove their mettle in a real battle. Thus far the troops gathered in New York, had been forced to content themselves with occasional skirmishes with the British outposts, which little affairs only served to increase their eagerness to “have it out” with the invaders.
To make the long days of waiting pass more pleasantly, frequent excursions were made into the surrounding country in search of adventures and to pick up whatever delicacies in the way of fruit and fowl that the outlying farms afforded. Tom appointed himself a committee of one to supply the company to which he and his friends belonged. He had exhausted most of the well-known haunts about camp, and was in the habit of going off on long tramps to find the coveted fruit.
One evening toward dusk Tom was sauntering along a quiet country road hunting for apples. In the course of his wanderings he came upon a well laden tree standing on the grounds of a neglected estate. Far back amongst the trees was the deserted mansion-house, looking desolate and forbidding in the rays of the sinking sun.
About this old place many stories clung of mystery and violent death. From the time of its erection by a runaway nobleman the families who had unfortunately occupied it had either left in extreme haste and terror for some far removed section of the country, or had met with foul play at the hands of a band of Gypsies, who appeared in the neighborhood only when a new occupant moved into the fated homestead. The last family that had lived there had suddenly left the house one night. Two grown up sons, however, returned and told the inquisitive farmers that although their folks had been frightened away, they proposed to remain until they had solved the mystery of the place. This perhaps they did the next night, but they both paid for their curiosity with their lives, for the neighbors found their bodies suspended from the upper floor over the Main Stairway. Since this last fatality, the house had been deserted, its bad name growing with each recounting of its dark history.
A little youngster scarce four years old, was playing under the tree. Tom helped himself to some apples as was his wont, and speaking cheerily to the boy, learned that his name was “Jackie.” A stick of candy from Tom's pocket was greedily accepted by Jackie. Tom was feeling blue that day thinking of his father from whom had come no word, of his mother and sister, and his old home. He wandered on unobservant of the fact that it was growing dark, and that a storm was fast approaching. He was suddenly called to a sense of his surroundings by hearing a cry behind him, and turning back saw that little Jackie was dogging his footsteps.