The Boys of Old Monmouth Part 32

"Yes, we were there," resumed Barzilla, apparently ignoring the lad's alarm. "I didn't know but you knew it, and I've felt mean enough about it, too. We didn't have anything to do with what happened there," he hastily added; "but the truth is, we thought it was about time some kind of a stop was put to the doings of the pine robbers,--so Jacob, here, and I pretended to go in with them. Of course we didn't like the work, but we hoped we could learn enough about their plans to trap them. And we've almost succeeded. We've been as busy as you have, my lad, and pretty soon we hope the murderers of your mother will be run to cover."

Little Peter had never thought of the scheme which Barzilla mentioned, and at first he did not know whether to believe him or not. Certainly appearances were against him, but he was in no position to dispute the statement.

"Is that what Benzeor was doing, too?" he inquired.

"Benzeor? Benzeor Osburn? Don't you know what he had to do"--

"Hold on, Barzilla," interrupted Jacob. "Little Peter doesn't know about him, or he wouldn't let the children stay there."

"Why? What do you mean? Aren't the children safe there?" said Peter quickly.

"Safe? They couldn't be safer if they were in China, or some other heathing land," said Barzilla. "Even Benzeor's horses are safe. There isn't such a team as that left in Old Monmouth," he added, "and if his beasts aren't touched, I don't think you need to worry very much about the young ones."

"I don't understand," said Little Peter.

"You don't need to," said Jacob quickly, "You've got enough to worry about, my boy, without bothering your head over Barzilla's words. He talks too much, anyway. You just go on and get the meal for Sarah; that's all you need to think about now."

"Yes, but Little Peter ought to know a bit more," said Barzilla doggedly. "The truth is that we've run some of Fenton's gang into these very woods. There are several of us scouring the region, and it's only fair to tell you that you may run across some of 'em if you keep on. For my part I advise you to turn back and not go to the mill at all. It isn't safe."

"n.o.body'll touch him. Let him go on," said Jacob. "The children will have to be fed, and he might as well get the meal. He's safe enough."

"He can do as he pleases," muttered Barzilla.

Little Peter was perplexed, for the actions and words of the men were sadly confusing. Tom had reported to him some of their previous conversations, and his own suspicions, as we know, had been aroused. If Barzilla spoke truly now, he was in no slight danger himself, while the very decided difference of opinion between the two men tended to increase his confusion.

"I'm goin' to tell you some more," said Jacob. "Last night some of Fenton's gang went over to Mr. Farr's. You know the old man, don't you?"

"You mean Thomas Farr, the old man who lives with his wife and daughter over on the road to Imlaystown?"

"That's the very man. Well, Lew Fenton and some of his gang went over there about midnight, and attacked the house. There wasn't any one in it but the old man and his wife and their daughter, and you know she's old enough to have arrived at years of discretion, to put it mildly. The old people barricaded the doors with logs of wood just as soon as they discovered who the men were.

"The pine robbers tried to break the door down with some fence rails, but when that failed, they fired a volley of bullets right through the door. One ball broke the leg of the old man, but still they wouldn't let the pine robbers in. Then the villains went around to the back door and succeeded in smas.h.i.+ng that in. They stuck a bayonet into the old man, who was helpless on the floor, and then they murdered his wife right before his eyes. One of the men struck the daughter with the b.u.t.t of his gun, but, although she was pretty badly hurt, she managed to get out of the house.

"Fenton's gang didn't wait to plunder the place, but, as they were afraid she'd raise an alarm, they all cleared out. 'Twas mighty lucky for them that they did, for there was a lot of us near by. You see we'd seen Benzeor"--

"Hold on, Jacob. That's enough. Now, Peter, you see what's going on, and it's my opinion that some of Fenton's gang, and maybe Fenton himself, are in these very woods. That's why I advised ye not to go on. Now you can do jest as ye like, for you've got pretty much the whole story."

"I think you'll be all right," said Jacob. "It's only a little way up to the mill, and the children need that meal. I should go if I was in your place, and if I didn't have to keep watch here, I'd go with ye myself."

"I'll go," said Little Peter quietly.

"Good luck to ye, then," said Barzilla. "We'll see you here when you come back."

Little Peter picked up the reins and at once started, leaving the two men behind him, who remained standing in the road, and watched him until he disappeared from sight. The lad's feelings, however, had undergone a very decided change. He was convinced that the story concerning the aged Thomas Farr was true, and he was also persuaded that his suspicions of Jacob and Barzilla were unjust.

Every tree now might be the hiding-place of Fenton, or some of his band.

Each moment he expected to see some one step forth into the road before him and stop his horses. The very silence in the woods served to increase his alarm. He quickened the speed of the horses, and soon they were wet with foam, as they toiled on through the heavy sand. The cry of a bird, or the chattering of a squirrel, caused the excited lad to glance fearfully in the direction from which the sound came. To his excited imagination the woods were filled with his enemies, and more than once a fallen tree or a broken branch took on the outlines of a man.

It was with a feeling of intense relief that at last he saw the crumbling old mill before him. The sound of the water, as it dropped from the dam to the bed of the brook below, was like music in his ears; and when he discovered the miller himself standing in the doorway, he again increased the speed of his horses, and soon halted before the mill.

"I've come for Benzeor Osburn's grist," he said, as he leaped from his seat to the ground.

"They must be pretty hungry over there, from the looks of your horses."

"They are. Has any one been here this morning?"

"Not a soul. There's no work now, with all this fighting going on. Have you heard anything from the soldiers?"

"Not much, only that both the armies must be near here now."

There was nothing, however, in the presence of the old mill to indicate that war's rude alarms were to be heard anywhere in the region. The monotonous sound of the falling water, the dull hum of the big wheel, the little garden which the miller had planted near his log house close by, the dog lying asleep on the doorsill, the little urchins playing in the waters of the brook, the hens fluttering in the roadway and covering themselves with dust,--all seemed to declare that only peace and quiet were to be found in the region.

And yet, only a few miles away two great armies had a.s.sembled, and, on the morrow the summer air would resound with the booming of cannon, and many a buffcoat and redcoat would be left lying side by side upon the plains of Old Monmouth, never again to be mindful of the struggle, or hear or heed the calls of their officers as they led the men into battle.

At that very time, if the words of Barzilla Giberson were true, the woods, which extended between the mill and the main road, concealed some of the hated pine robbers, as well as outraged patriots who were searching for their enemies.

The wagon was soon loaded, the miller's share of the grist having first been set aside, and Little Peter climbed up on the seat and grasped the reins, as he prepared to start again.

"You'd better be careful," said Little Peter. "I'm told some of the pine robbers are hiding in these woods."

"I'm not afraid," laughed the miller. "I never harmed them and they won't harm me."

The lad related the story of the attack upon the house of Thomas Farr, but still the miller to all appearances was not deeply impressed.

"I haven't any money and they've nothing to gain by disturbing me. I grind my grists just the same, whether it's a king or Congress that rules over me, and I don't care much, for my part, which it is. I don't bother my head about such things. All I want is good water and plenty of corn, and I'm happy all the day long."

Little Peter had given his warning, so he said no more, but bidding the miller good-day, he spoke to his horses and at once departed.

His load was heavier now than when he had come, and consequently he was compelled to let his horses walk. Even then the sweltering beasts labored heavily under the intense heat, and he was compelled to stop frequently and permit them to rest in some cool and shady spot.

His own fears had not departed, however, but every turn of the heavy wheels brought him nearer to the main road, and once there he thought he would be safe. Already one of the three miles had been left behind him, and he was about to start on, after the brief rest he had given the horses, when he was startled by the sound of something breaking through the bushes that lined the road in front of him.

Tremblingly he waited a moment, gazing with frightened face at the place in the road where the man, or animal, or whatever it was, would first appear. His suspense was not relieved when a horse and rider broke through the bushes and stopped only a few yards in advance of him.

Little Peter's face was deadly pale when he instantly recognized the man as none other than Lewis Fenton himself. He noted the great size, the broad shoulders, the powerful arms, for the pine robber was riding without a coat, and his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves were rolled back, disclosing the great bunches of muscles; but more than all else the brutal face terrified him.

Before he could speak or move, Fenton leaped to the ground, and leaving his horse by the roadside approached the wagon.

"How now, young man? Give an account of yourself. Where you going? Who are you? As I live, if it isn't Little Peter Van Mater!" he added in evident astonishment.

As he spoke, he grasped the frightened lad by the shoulder and dragged him to the ground. Then the brutal, cowardly man struck him two savage blows. The sight of the woods and even of the pine robber faded from Little Peter's eyes, and the unconscious boy dropped heavily upon the sand. Even then Fenton was not satisfied, for again and again he kicked the body, apparently not yet convinced that life was extinct.

But Little Peter suffered no pain. With sightless eyes, his blood-stained face looked up at the blue sky above the treetops, but neither the pa.s.sing clouds nor the further actions of the brutal pine robber were heeded by the lad.

CHAPTER XXIX