Then Marched the Brave Part 4

The man retraced his steps, sulkily. He had been foraging on his own account, and had unearthed bigger game than he could manage.

Ruth watched the man until he pa.s.sed from sight. As she turned about she faced Andy sitting among the bushes. She jumped, then laughed nervously.

"How did you get your cane?" she asked.

"I was not six feet away." Andy's voice was strangely calm. "I hope you know, Ruth," he faltered, 'that had things turned out differently, I would have been with you. You know that?"

"Yes, Andy." A flush came to the pale face. "I think I feared you would come more than anything else. But I do not trust that fellow. He will come back. I know he was suspicious. Choose another way--next time!"

"Aye, and I'll stop up this trail. Good-by, Ruth. Hurry, I will wait until you are safe, and this pa.s.sage made harmless."

For a few days longer Andy remained near home, not caring to run the risk of seeking the longer path of which he knew, while the Britisher's suspicions might still be alert. Once or twice he had met the fellow on the public highway, and he feared to arouse any further cause for watchfulness. He had discovered, also, that the man had gone back to the spot where he had encountered Ruth, but Andy laughed, when he recalled how cunningly he had hidden the trail. But now the boy could wait no longer, he must try to get near the lines and listen.

Taking the longer way, he left his crutch hidden inside a cave-like opening. He would never again trust the outside. Then in true Indian fas.h.i.+on he crept along through the rocky pa.s.sage. He reached the other end and for an hour or more waited patiently, but only the pa.s.sing of a lonely sentinel rewarded him, and he guessed that no news would come that way.

He dared not emerge from his shelter, for the day was too bright and clear, the sentinel would surely spy him, and better no news than to give away the secret of the pa.s.sage. Disappointedly he crept back, and at the other end put his hand cautiously forth to grasp his crutch. Then he became instantly aware that he was discovered, for his hand was grasped in a firm, unyielding clutch.

Andy's heart stood still. He had no doubt but that Ruth's annoyer had dogged his steps and had captured him. But there was little of the coward about Andy; he would face the worst. He pushed through the tangle of leaves, trying to free his hand, but the clasp was like iron. The captor was not the Britisher, but a man of quite another sort. He was young, handsome, splendidly formed. As he lay at full length upon the moss Andy thought he had never seen so tall a man. He wore velvet knee-breeches, long blue coat, and a wide-brimmed hat, which s.h.i.+elded a pair of friendly, laughing eyes. One glance and Andy lost all fear.

"Now that you have come from your hole, you young mole, good-morning to you, and where have you fared?" The voice was ringing and full of cheer.

"Good-morning, sir," Andy made answer.

"And where have you fared?"

"That I cannot tell you, sir."

"You cannot tell me!" the man sighed, impatiently. "Now, do you know, for a moment I fancied that you were just the lad who could guide me over your interesting island. What with all this excitement, a peaceful traveler has no show above-ground. I hoped you might lead me mole-fas.h.i.+on."

"I will gladly show you through the pa.s.s, sir, as far as the gate a mile or so below."

"As far as the gate! Always as far as something! I want to go beyond--'as far!' What care I for countersigns and pa.s.sports. I want the freedom of the island, and a chance to study its rocks and flowers and very interesting weeds. Boys often know paths unknown to any one else--except Indians!"

"But I am a lame boy much dependent upon a crutch."

"You can dispense with it at times," laughed the stranger. "For a good two hours you did without it to-day. It and I have been keeping company.

I followed you at a distance, thinking easily to overtake you, when piff! you were gone, and I and the crutch--for you see I searched the hole--were alone!"

For some moments Andy's hand had been free, and now as he looked at the speaker he saw that he was holding in his open palm the charm which last he had beheld that glorious morning by the riverside.

With a glad cry he sprang up. "I am Andy McNeal!" he said, and he doffed Sam's hat, which was his only martial possession.

"And I--am the schoolmaster!"

The two clasped hands. That was the beginning. Through the following days the master abode in Janie's house. The good woman asked no questions. Her curiosity burned and burned, but wisdom held it in check.

Enough that Andy was the companion of this mighty person. Enough that her humble roof sheltered him, and her able hands served him faithfully.

It was wonderful, and--enough. Ruth, too, throbbed with excitement, but went her ways calmly as if it were a common enough thing for a splendid schoolmaster to suddenly undertake Andy's neglected education, and pay for his lodging and board by instructing the hostess's son.

This was what was going on. Book in hand the two walked abroad quite openly. Sometimes it would be rocks or flowers they were bent upon understanding, at other times the intricacies of the English language were the paths they followed. Occasionally Ruth would be asked to join in the walks and talks, but oftener they were alone. There were real lessons. Andy pondered upon them deeply, and his hungry mind fed upon the feast. Of course, so fine a master walking abroad with the lame boy, aroused the notice of the sentinels, but to their questions he answered so glibly, that there remained nothing to do but ask more. The game became tiresome.

The tutor and his pupil kept within bounds, so there was no excuse for interference. But one day, quite lost in abstraction, the two pa.s.sed beyond the gate at the end of the pa.s.s, and strolled down the road patroled by the British. Suddenly a loud "Halt!" made Andy jump. A look of surprise pa.s.sed over the master's face as a bayonet was thrust in front of him.

The soldier was the one who had accosted Ruth; Andy knew him at once.

"Dear me! dear me!" cried the master, querulously, "after seeing us pa.s.s to and fro so often, one would not think it necessary to resort to such rudeness. Pray, good fellow, is not this his Majesty's highway, and free to all?"

"No," grumbled the sentinel, lowering his weapon; "what's your business?"

"Schoolmaster."

"I do not mean that. I see you prodding around rocks and weeds with your noses in books, but I want to know what you mean on this road?"

"I desire to take a walk on it. I have no weapon, I am a peaceful person. May I pa.s.s?"

"You better turn back. This road is sentineled all the way to camp.

You're too simple to go alone. You are an American?"

"Certainly. Born and bred in the colonies."

"A rebel?"

"Sir!"

"A rebel, I say?"

"I am loyal to the heart's core!" the master replied. "Come, Andy, the way back is doubtless more pleasant for peaceful folk than the way before. Conjugate to live, Andy."

Once beyond sight and hearing of the foe, the master bared his head.

"Loyal we are, and we know to whom! But how long it takes to disarm their doubts!"

CHAPTER IV

THROUGH THE CAVE

That same night, as Andy lay sleeping, a strange sound startled him. In an instant he was out of bed, and limping toward the window. Again came the plaintive sound. It was some one mimicking a night-owl, and doing it very badly, as the boy's true ear detected at once.

Andy replied, in a much better imitation; then, from out the shrubbery beneath the window, the master stepped forth in the moonlight. He beckoned to the boy, and then moved back into the shadow of the trees.

Always, with Andy, there was the struggle between the quick, alert mind and will, and the weaker body. However, with trembling fingers, he dressed as rapidly as possible, gladly remembering that he could reach the ground by the vine, thus saving time, and making sure that his mother would not be disturbed.

In a few moments he was ready. He dropped his crutch cautiously from the window, and began to descend himself. The man among the shadows did not move, though his expectant eyes were on the watch. Andy, keeping well in the shelter of the shade, reached his friend.

"That fellow we met to-day was prowling about the house an hour ago,"

whispered the master; "he looked boldly into my window. I was awake and saw his features distinctly, though I fancy he thought me unconscious. I saw him leave by the stream path. He thinks me safe for to-night, but they are suspicious, those Britishers, and you and I must get through the pa.s.sage to their lines to-night. I believe something is afoot, and they do not wish to run any chances. Lead on, Andy McNeal; before break of day I must know all, all that is possible, and be away."