Boyd and I have volunteered as a scout of three," I said, "but Colonel Sheldon has declined our services with scant politeness."
Fancher stood far a moment, his rain-smeared lantern hanging motionless at his side.
"Tarleton may not ride tonight," he said, and moved off a step or two; then, turning: "But, damn him, I think he will," said he. And walked away, swinging his light as furiously as a panther thrashes his tail.
By the pointers of my watch it now approached three o'clock in the morning, and the storm was nothing abating. I had entirely despaired of the Sagamore's coming, and was beginning to consider the sorry pickle which this alarm must leave us in if Tarleton's Legion came upon us now; and that with our widely scattered handfuls we could only pull foot and await another day to find our Sagamore; when, of a sudden there came a-creeping through the darkness, out o' the very maw of the storm, a slender shape, wrapped to the eyes in a ragged scarlet cape. I knew her; but I do not know how I knew her.
"It is you!" I exclaimed, hastening forward to draw her under shelter.
She came obediently with me, slipping in between the lanterns and among the horses, moving silently at my elbow to the farther shed, which was empty.
"You use me very kindly," I said, "to venture abroad tonight on my behalf."
"I am abroad," she said, "on behalf of my country."
Only her eyes I could see over the edge of the scarlet cloak, and they regarded me very coldly.
"I meant it so," I said hastily, "What of the Sagamore? Will he come?"
"He will come as I promised you."
"Here?" I said, delighted. "This very night?"
"Yes, here, this night."
"How good—how generous you have been!" I exclaimed with a warmth and sincerity that invaded every fibre of me. "And have you come through this wild storm all the long way afoot?"
"Yes," she said, calmly, "afoot. Since when, sir, have beggars ridden to a tryst except in pretty fables?"
"Had I known it, I would have taken horse and gone for you and brought you here riding pillion behind me."
"Had I desired you to come for me, Mr. Loskiel, I should not have troubled you here."
She loosened the shabby scarlet cloak so that it dropped from below her eyes and left the features exposed. Enough of lantern light from the other shed fell on her face for me to see her smooth, cool cheeks all dewy with the rain, as I had seen them once before in the gloom of the coming storm.
She turned her head, glancing back at the other shed where men and horses stood in grotesque shadow shapes under the windy lantern light; then she looked cautiously around the shed where we stood.
"Come nearer," she motioned.
And once again, as before, my nearness to her seemed for a moment to meddle with my heart and check it; then, as though to gain the beats they lost, every little pulse began to hurry faster.
She said in a low voice:
"The Sagamore is now closeted with Major Lockwood. I left him at the porch and came out here to warn you. Best go to him now, sir. And I will bid you a—good night."
"Has he business also with Major Lockwood?"
"He has indeed. You will learn presently that the Sagamore came by North Castle, and that the roads south of the church are full of riders—hundreds of them—in jack-boots and helmets."
"Were their jackets red?"
"He could not tell. They were too closely cloaked,"
"Colonel Moylan's dragoons?" I said anxiously. "Do you think so?"
"The Sagamore did not think so, and dared not ask, but started instantly cross-country with the information. I had been waiting to intercept him and bring him here to you, as I promised you, but missed him on the Bedford road, where he should have passed. Therefore, I hastened hither to confess to you my failure, and chanced to overtake him but a moment since, as he crossed the dooryard yonder."
Even in my growing anxiety, I was conscious of the faithfulness that this poor girl had displayed—this ragged child who had stood in the storm all night long on the Bedford road to intercept the Indian. Faithful, indeed! For, having missed him, she had made her way here on foot merely to tell me that she could not keep her word to me.
"Has the Sagamore spoken with Colonel Sheldon?" I asked gently.
"I do not know."
"Will you tarry here till I return?"
"Have you further use of me, Mr. Loskiel?"
Her direct simplicity checked me. After all, now that she had done her errand, what further use had I for her? I did not even know why I had asked her to tarry here until my return; and searched my mind seeking the reason. For it must have been that I had some good reason in my mind.
"Why, yes," I said, scarce knowing why, "I have further use for you. Tarry for a moment and I shall return. And," I added mentally, "by that time I shall have discovered the reason."
She said nothing; I hastened back to the house, where even from the outside I could hear the loud voice of Sheldon vowing that if what this Indian said were true, the cavalry he had discovered at North Castle must be Moylan's and no other.
I entered and listened a moment to Major Lockwood, urging this obstinate man to send out his patrols; then I walked over to the window where Boyd stood in whispered consultation with an Indian.
The savage towered at least six feet in his soaking moccasins; he wore neither lock nor plume, nor paint of any kind that I could see, carried neither gun nor blanket, nor even a hatchet. There was only a heavy knife at the beaded girdle, which belted his hunting shirt and breeches of muddy tow-cloth.
As I approached them, the Mohican turned his head and shot a searching glance at me. Boyd said:
"This is the great Sagamore, Mayaro, Mr. Loskiel; and I have attempted to persuade him to come north with us tomorrow. Perhaps your eloquence will succeed where my plain speech has failed." And to the tall Sagamore he said: "My brother, this is Ensign Loskiel, of Colonel Morgan's command—my comrade and good friend. What this man's lips tell you has first been taught them by his heart. Squirrels chatter, brooks babble, and the tongues of the Iroquois are split. But this is a man, Sagamore, such as are few among men. For he lies not even to women." And though his countenance was very grave, I saw his eyes laughing at me.
The Indian made no movement until I held out my hand. Then his sinewy fingers touched mine, warily at first, like the exploring antennae of a nervous butterfly. And presently his steady gaze began to disturb me.
"Does my brother the Sagamore believe he has seen me somewhere heretofore?" I asked, smilingly. "Perhaps it may have been so—at Johnson Hall—or at Guy Park, perhaps, where came many chiefs and sachems and Sagamores in the great days of the great Sir William—the days that are no more, O Sagamore!"
And: "My brother's given name?" inquired the savage bluntly.
"Euan—Euan
