Revolutionary War stories were extremely popular in St. Nicholas, and very often women and girls were the heroes of the day. Here a gallant horse is added to the mix.For the third time little Ruth Holley stepped out on the broad flat stone that served as a doorstep, and shading her eyes with her hand looked eagerly down the road.
"Oh, dear!" she sighed, glancing at the long slanting shadows; "it's almost supper-time and they have n't come, and Sister Molly is never late!"
Then she turned and passed through the narrow entry into the kitchen, where her mother was bending over a big iron pot which hung from the crane in the wide fire-place.
"Well, Daughter, any signs of 'em yet?"
"No, Mother," answered Ruth, almost ready to cry. "Perhaps Gray Duke has run away, or some of the dreadful Tories have stopped them; and if anything should happen to Gcordie or the twins, I don't know what I should do!"
Mrs. Holley raked the embers forward and threw a fresh log on the fire. "I would n't borrow any trouble, Daughter," she said quietly; "real trouble comes thick and fast enough in these dark days without any need of borrowing more."
The kitchen door opened, and a tall gray-haired man entered.
"I 've put the milk in the pantry, Mother. Where are Molly and the children? Have n't they come?"
Mrs. Holley shook her head.
"Ruth is worrying, Father, for fear that they 've been caught by Tories or that Gray Duke has run away with them."
The farmer threw back his head and laughed.
"No fear of that, little girl! Molly Pidgin is a born horsewoman, and Duke may be fiery and unmanageable enough with strangers, but he 's like a lamb with Molly. And as for being caught by the Tories,—why, I 'd just like to see 'em do it, that 's all! There is n't a horse in these parts that can keep within sight of Duke's heels. I knew his value well when I gave him to Molly for a wedding gift. And they are well matched for spirit!"
"I wish Molly had less spirit, Father, for then when Edward went away, she would have come up here to stay with us," returned Mrs. Holley. "Middlesex is no place for her; it's a perfect nest of Tories! But we had hard work to get her to spend even this week with us!"
"Well, I suppose she thought some of the Tories would run off the cattle or ransack the house while she was away. We are passing through dark days—-dark days, Mother! It's bad enough to have to fight an open foe, but when it comes to having neighbors who are on the watch for every chance to plunder you and to give you over to the Red-coats, it's almost more than flesh and blood can stand!"
It was the summer of 1781, the darkest and most trying period of the Revolution. The campaign of 1779 had proved a failure. The British were everywhere successful, and the American army had done almost nothing toward bringing the war to a close. And 1780 was a still more discouraging year. The winter was one of the coldest ever known, and the sufferings of the Continental troops in their winter quarters at Morristown were terrible. Early in 1781, several hundred of the soldiers revoltc and were only kept by the point of the bayonet irom going home, so that this year, too, opened most disastrously. The dwellers on the Connecticut coast lived in constant fear of the British, who occupied New York City and Long Island, and frequently crossed the Sound at night in boats, to plunder the inhabitants and carry them away captives. Norwalk, Middlesex (now Darien), and Stamford were particularly hated by the English on account of the patriotism of their three ministers, and the Red-coats had been planning for a long time some way of punishing the Rev. Mr. Mather, whose earnest teachings served to keep up the almost fainting courage of the people of Middlesex.
Mrs. Holley swung the crane further over the fire, and then helped Ruth to set the table with the dark-blue china and the large pewter platters, which had been scoured until they shone like silver.
"Hark! What is that?" said the farmer, going to the door. But Mrs. Holley and Ruth were there before him, just in time to see a powerful gray horse dash up to the door and stop obediently at the decided "Whoa!" of his mistress, a rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed young woman. Behind her, on the pillion, and securely tied to her waist, was four-year-old Geordie, while in front, encircled by her arms, sat the baby twins, Ben and Desire, as like as two peas. In a moment, Geordie was unfastened and Ruth was smothering him with kisses, while Mrs. Holley looked very proud with a twin on either arm.
"Well, Molly," said her father, looking at her admiringly as she sprang lightly to the ground, "you are as spry as ever. We had begun to worry about you. What made you so late?"
"I was waiting for dispatches from Edward, and they came just before I left. They 've had a terrible winter, Father," and the tears gathered in Molly's eyes. "Our brave men have been without shoes and had only miserable rags for clothing, and hundreds of them have died from hunger and cold. At times they have had neither bread nor meat in the camp, and the Continental money lost value so that it took four months' pay of a private to buy a bushel of wheat! Edward says if it had not been for the great heart and courage of Washington they would have given up in utter despair. But things are looking brighter now. Congress has sent them money, and General Greene has had some splendid victories in the South; and Edward says there are still more to follow."
"You don't say!" cried the farmer in a ringing voice, and his bent form straightened, and his blue eyes flashed. "Now, may the Lord be praised ! How many times have I told you, Mother, that we 'd certainly win in the end."
"But these victories cost so, Father!" said Molly, throwing her arm over the horse's neck and hiding her face against his glossy mane. "O Duke, Duke! When will your master come back to us?"
Duke had been champing his bit uneasily, but at the sound of his mistress's voice, he became instantly quiet. He turned his full, bright eye on her and lowered his head until his nose rubbed against her hand.
"Just look at the critter, Mother!" cried Farmer Holley. "I think he actually knows what the girl is saying."
"Edward wrote that there was a great scarcity of horses in the army, and asked me, in case Duke was needed for our Washington, if I would be willing to give him up."
"It would be rather hard to give up Duke. Eh, Molly, girl?"
"I would even part with him, if necessary. I will do anything and everything that I can, for the sake of our country," said Molly. "And dear old Duke is fit to carry even so good and great a man as Washington."
In a few moments the family was seated at the table, and opening the big, leather-bound Bible, Farmer Holley read a short chapter, followed by the simple evening prayer.
The next morning, after breakfast was cleared away, Molly said to her father:
"I believe I 'll ride down to Middlesex church. I don't like to miss one of Parson Mather's sermons. They are a great comfort to me. And I can see, too, whether the house is all right. I can get there in time for the afternoon service, and I 'll take Ruth with me for company."
Shortly before noon, Duke was brought to the door, and so impatient was he, that he could hardly wait for Molly and Ruth to mount. Off they went at a rapid pace, through the gate and down the old post-road, and Canaan Parish was soon left far behind.
After a few pats and a little coaxing, Duke settled down to a sober trot. A ride of six miles brought them to Molly's house, and a glance told them that all was safe. Then they came in sight of the wooden meeting-house, with its stiff little belfry. On one side was a dense swamp bordering the road. As they passed it, Ruth glanced carelessly back, and her heart gave a great thump, as she thought she saw a bit of red color and a glitter as of sunshine on burnished steel. She looked again, but there was nothing but an unbroken wall of green leaves, so thick was the growth of bushes and tangled vines. Her first impulse was to tell Molly. Then she laughed at her foolish fears. "I'm but a silly girl," she thought; "it was all imagination!"
The bell was still ringing, and Molly went behind the church, where the horses were fastened, and tied Duke to a tree. Then she took Ruth hy the hand, crossed the porch, passed through the little entry and walked up the aisle to a square, high-backed pew.
"Surrender or die!" called a loud voice. "Escape is impossible, for both doors are guarded."
Three or four young men climbed out of the windows, but the shots fired after them warned others of the dangers of flight. With clanking arms a number of British soldiers, led by some of the Middlesex Tories, rudely entered the church and proceeded to plunder the congregation. Silver watches were taken, silver buckles were torn from knee-breeches and shoes, and ear-rings were roughly snatched from women's ears.
Molly started up indignant, as a trooper pointed to the gold beads on her neck. "I 'll thank ye for those gewgaws, ma'am," said he.
"Softly, softly, Mistress Pidgin," exclaimed a neighbor; "resistance is of no use." And Molly gave up the necklace.
The young girl heard but little of the service. She could not get that bit of red color and the glitter in the swamp out of her mind. The windows were open, and she found herself listening intently for every little sound, but she heard nothing except the singing of birds and the rustling of the leaves, as the warm south wind gently stirred the branches of the trees. But when Mr. Mather, from his high pulpit perched beneath the great sounding-board, began to read the hymn, suddenly the words died away on his lips. He closed his book and remained motionless, with his eyes riveted on the open door.
Then she whispered to Ruth: "Keep close by me, Little Sister! Do just as I do—keep getting nearer the door—a step at a time—without attracting attention. If I can only save Duke!" The British tied the men, two by two, and, amid the soldiers' jeers and hooting, the gray-haired minister was dragged from the pulpit.
"Let the rebel parson lead the march," cried one; "and hark ye, sirrah, step lively, or you 'll feel the prick of my bayonet—we must make haste, or the whole town will be after us." he added in a lower tone, addressing one of his comrades.
In the meantime, Molly and Ruth had reached the door without being seen, and Mistress Pidgin peeped out cautiously. The guard had left his post to help lead the horses to the front of the church. Most of them had been taken, but Duke was still standing under the tree.
The two sisters darted down the steps, climbed up on a stone fence, untied Duke, and mounted, but had gone only a few yards when they encountered two men.
"Stop!" cried one of them, seizing the bridle. Molly bent over Duke, and patted him gently on the neck. Then she raised her whip and brought it down with all her might on his flank. He reared wildly, and, with a furious plunge that would have unseated a less skillful rider than Molly, he freed himself from his captor, dashed across the green, and, with ears laid flat against his neck and his tail streaming out like a white banner, he darted like an arrow up the road.
Ruth was partly thrown from the pillion, but Molly's strong arm was around her, and her calm voice sounded re-assuringly:
"Pull yourself up to the pillion! Never fear! I can hold you;" and even in that mad flight the little girl was able to draw herself up to a secure position. As they reached the top of a long hill,
Molly drew rein and looked back. A few mounted men had started in pursuit, but Duke was too fleet for them, and they had turned back.
"O my brave Duke," said Molly; "may you always carry your rider as swiftly from danger as you have carried us to-day!"
Duke bore them swiftly up the old road to Canaan Parish, and as soon as they reached home safely, the alarm was given by the ringing of bells and the firing of guns, and several of the men started at once for Middlesex. But they were too late! The prisoners had been carried across the Sound, and from thence they were sent to the prison-ships in New York Bay, where some of them languished and died, and others, among them Parson Mather, after a long delay, were returned to their homes.
Meantime, Duke was sent to the headquarters of the Continental Army, and it was the proudest day of Molly's life when, soon after the declaration of peace, she stood on a balcony with Edward and the children beside her, and heard the thunder of artillery, the ringing of bells, and the wild cheers of the people. For, as she looked up the street she saw, amid the waving of flags and the fluttering of handkerchiefs, passing under the triumphal arch, with proudly arched neck and quivering nostrils, a magnificent gray horse, bearing on his back that martial figure so well known and loved—the noble Washington.
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