Then Marched the Brave Part 3

"Ruth," said Andy in a whisper, "I think my chance has come!"

"Your chance, Andy?"

"Aye. I have been thinking that Sam's being taken has aroused me, and given me courage, just as your father said, and--and last night the chance began!" Then he told her of much that had occurred. Ruth knelt among the flowers, her young face glowing.

"Oh! I shall have some one to watch," she panted, "some one to help while he works. Oh! Andy, you do not know how I long to help, and be part of this great time. I go on long walks, and I hear and see so much.

Down on the Bowery I heard a group say the other day that General Was.h.i.+ngton was going to burn the town and order the people to flee. One man said, did he order such a thing, he, for one, would go over to the British; and, Andy, there was a great shout from the other men! I felt my heart burn, for did our General order _me_ to go, then would I go whither and where he ordered; nor would I question, so great is my trust in him. And did he burn all, even my home, yet would I gladly obey, for I would _know_ he was doing wisely. So greatly do I honor him that I think, next to G.o.d, I trust our General!"

The young face glowed and quivered, and Andy, with the spirit of hero-wors.h.i.+p growing upon his recent experiences, panted in excitement as she spoke.

"I, too, would follow, and never question," he said. "Never fear, Ruth; what the General expects of me, that will I do. Not even death do I fear--it comes but once!" The boyish voice rang clear.

Suddenly, Ruth started toward the house. "Wait," she said, "I have something for you." She was back in a moment, bearing Sam's cap. "The time has come," she faltered, and there were tears in her eyes. "I--I want to crown you, Andy McNeal." She removed Andy's rough cap and replaced it with Sam's.

"I'll keep the old one," she said, "and--and if you should fail to do bravely, you can have your own!" Then she dashed away the tears.

"Forgive me, Andy McNeal!" she sobbed; "you will never fail. There is hero blood in your body, I know, and it may be that your lameness will aid you in accomplis.h.i.+ng tasks that a l.u.s.ty lad could never attempt."

Andy raised his head proudly and the new crown set not badly on his boyish curls.

"I must go," he breathed. "I will come every day unless--you know, Ruth?"

The girl nodded, and so they parted silently, Ruth pressing the old hat to her aching heart, and taking up the woman's part in those troubling times; the part of the watching, waiting one.

The days following became filled with one longing for Andy. The longing for Was.h.i.+ngton's messenger. Unless he came soon, the boy feared that he would be too late. During his own recent explorations beyond the lines, he heard much that warned him that the British were planning something of grave importance.

Andy had told his mother and Ruth nothing of Was.h.i.+ngton's antic.i.p.ated messenger. They knew merely that Andy had ferried the great General across the river--was that not enough? Had they known for what the boy was eagerly watching, they could not have done their own daily tasks.

"He has an eager, watchful air," Janie confided to Ruth. "I am thinking the lad expects the General to pa.s.s this way again. Lightning and _such_ happenings do not strike twice in the same spot."

Ruth smiled gently. "I do not think Andy walks as lame as he did," she mused, watching the boy disappearing down a woody path.

"He is always on the go," Janie broke in. "He practices walking without his crutch more than I think wise; but one can do little with men-folk!"

Janie tossed her head proudly. Andy was a growing delight to her.

"It may do him good," Ruth added; "he looks stronger and--and gladder."

"He has gone beyond me," the mother sighed. "I--I begin to know, la.s.s, the happy feeling a mother has when her heart aches with loneliness and--and pride! What ails you, la.s.s?" For Ruth had started and given a short cry.

"Why--why--" laughed the girl, "I am thinking my eyes are playing me false. I was watching Andy up the path, and I saw him as clear as I see you this minute--and then he was gone!"

"Do not get flighty, Ruth." Janie came close, however, and peered up the path. "You and Andy will drive me daft. The path is a straight, clean one; had Andy been on it, he would still be in sight. I'm thinking he turned before he came to the brook bed. You did not notice, but your thoughts kept agoing on."

"Perhaps," nodded Ruth, but Janie knew she was unconvinced.

On her way home soon after, Ruth began to ponder. Once clear of Janie's observant eye, the girl turned back through the shrubbery, and ran to the spot where she had last seen Andy. All was as silent as a breathless summer day could make it. There was no side-path; no broken bushes.

"He _was_ here," breathed the girl, "and he disappeared like a flas.h.!.+"

Then she knelt down and tried to trace footprints in the mossy earth.

"Ah!" she smiled, for there was a crushed s.p.a.ce at the edge of a brambly cl.u.s.ter of bushes. She quietly drew aside the branches, and a look of wonder grew in the bright eyes. So cunningly concealed, that even her native-bred keenness might never have espied it, lay a path, and among the bushes, Andy's crutch! Should she follow? In the old days Ruth would not have paused. But these were not play-days; Andy might be upon grave business. Reverently she drew back, and replaced the disorder she had caused among the parted leaves. Suddenly a step startled her. She turned sharply. Up the path came a British soldier, whistling a gay tune and eyeing her boldly.

More than once had Ruth encountered these most ungallant gentlemen, and she was alert at resenting any familiarity, but a fear grew in her heart now. Andy's path must not be discovered! She must do her part.

"Good-day, my pretty la.s.s!" The man halted. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances Ruth would have taken to her fleet feet at this, but Andy might return too soon, and emerge while yet the enemy could discover him.

"Berrying?" grinned the fellow; "August is early for berries, is it not?

The man was suspicious, perhaps, and Ruth was on guard.

"For some kinds," she answered, lightly.

"What kind are you hunting?"

"One that you British do not know," she replied; "it's a kind that grows only in America and thrives upon freedom."

The soldier leered unpleasantly. "Come, I will help you hunt," he cried; "if we find a berry I cannot name, you may ask what reward you choose, and if I succeed then will I take a kiss from your red lips, eh, my girl?"

Ruth darted an angry look upward. If they hunted, the cane would be discovered, and yet if she refused--well, she must act quickly.

"Is it a bargain?"

"Yes;" the word came bravely from a trembling courage.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'GOOD DAY, MY PRETTY La.s.s.'"]

The two knelt and began the search. Ruth pressed the bushes so as to cover Andy's cane, but as her keen eyes fell upon the spot where it had been, to her surprise and joy, she saw that it was gone!

A cry broke from her, for, as she realized that that danger was past, she saw, near at hand, a plant so rare even to her woodland eyes, that it was precious. Thanks to her learned father, she knew its name, and the spray of waxen berries was her salvation.

"See!" she cried, "you have brought good luck. 'Tis a rare find. Now I pray you, sir, name the berry I hold in my hand."

The man was searching the underbrush, and turned half angrily. "What have you?" he snarled. Ruth knew that Andy was near, but no breath was heard.

"Name the berry, sir, or I claim my advantage!" Ruth stood upright with the spray in her hand.

"Wintergreen," ventured the fellow, wildly.

"Wrong!" sneered Ruth, "and there is no second trial."

"How can you prove me wrong?" jeered the man, coming insolently close; "who is to decide?"

"Your head officer, sir," flashed Ruth; "lead on, I will gladly leave it to him. After he has heard the tale from me--from _me_, mark--I will leave it to him. Perhaps there is one gentleman in the king's troops.

Lead on! Why stand staring when your stake is so high!" A dignity and fearlessness came to the angry girl.

"Do you lead, or shall I?" she asked.

"I--I beg your pardon!" cringed the fellow, "I will abide by your decision."

"Go, then!" cried Ruth, her temper breaking bounds, "and if you are a sample of my Lord Howe's men, I am thinking our General will have but a short tussle. Go!"