Harper's Round Table, March 10, 1896

by Various

But we must return and follow the doings of the royalist Lieutenant, young William Frothingham, after he had closed the door of his old home behind him, and had bade that mysterious adieu to his white-robed sister in the hallway. Her exclamation and her calling him by his brother's name had proved again that the resemblance must be as marvelous as ever. As soon as he had left the house he started on a run toward the old bridge, and taking a lumber path, he waded through the snow, intending to make for the hut of Adam Bent Knee that was in the hollow in the ridge. He knew that the old Indian would give him shelter, and would help him on his way, no matter to what party he belonged.

He reached the hut at last. It was built against a bank, and was roofed with bark and slabs of pine. Something had happened here, however, for the interior was torn to pieces. The furs that hung upon the wall were cut and slashed, and a half-barrel of apples had been thrown across the floor. All this had been done quite recently, for there were signs before the door of footprints and horses' hoofs. They led along the lumber path from the summit, and a short distance further on the same tracks were seen going in the opposite direction as if the party had doubled. The latter trail was much the fresher. William followed it.

They had broken a way through the snow, and he could travel for three or four miles much more easily. The trail led him through the woods until he descried the other side of the mountain. Far below him William made out a fire's light shimmering through the trees. Broad streaks had appeared in the east, and the edge of the red sun was showing through the horizon clouds. It was a grand sight. So still was the air that a twig that he stepped on in the snow seemed to him to crack like the report of a pistol. A belated owl in its sturdy driving flight swept across the clearing before him. Such a feeling of loneliness came over him that his heart sank again. What had his career as an officer of the crown brought to him? There was nothing of the coward in his disposition, and his sense of duty, as we know, was developed to the limit, but he hoped with all his soul that should he arrive safely back in the city, that he and all the gleaming bayonets there might be bundled back into the ships and sent to England. He prayed that he might never be compelled to draw his sword against this people, his own people, who were "rebels" no longer in his mind or estimation!

The sight of the fire in the woods reminded him that he was hungry, and must push ahead that he might reconnoitre. He half slid down the sharp declivity, and forced his way through the bushes.

There was a group of rough-looking men seated about a bivouac at the right of a great oak; some leaning forward wrapped in heavy blankets, appeared asleep. Three horses were nibbling at the twigs of the stunted undergrowth. One had strayed to quite a distance, and was standing mournfully leg-deep in the snow. As William came down the hill he found himself at the top of a great rock even with the branches of the oak and overlooking the small fire. He was in full sight when one of the party looked up and saw him. The man's jaw dropped, and he caught his breath, with an exclamation that aroused the drowsy ones about him. One of the men rolled backwards with a howl, and with his blanket trailing behind him plunged down the hill.

"Greeting, good friends," said William.

The effect of this short speech astonished him. Two of the men sprang up and jumped astride of the nearest horses, and the others took to their heels like the first, and soon the whole party was crashing down the hill like a herd of startled deer.

William did not move. He was too astonished to call after them, and from his post on the rock saw them come out into the meadow some distance below, where they stopped and talked. They appeared to come to one decision, for after looking back, they pushed on hastily, and entered the woods at the other side of the valley.

Swinging himself down by the branches of the oak, William found himself in possession of the very things that he most needed. In their unaccountable flight the strange party had left behind them a rough blanket and a blue woollen cape, and a huge flint-lock pistol, whose dark butt protruded from the snow, where it had been dropped, like some new growth of the forest.

A short distance away was a placid-looking horse who had commenced again to gnaw the trunk of a white birch.