Part 2

"We'll call our craft the Rattletrap, then. Good-night."

"Good-night," said Jack; and we parted, each to dream of our approaching cruise.

In a week we were busy getting ready to start. I found, when I looked over the wagon as it stood back of the cheese-factory, that it was much as Jack had described it, only I noticed that the seat as well as the springs creaked, and that a corner was broken off the dash-board. But we set to work upon it with a will. We tightened up the nuts and screws all over it, and wound the broken pole with wire. We nailed together the box so that the rope could be taken off, and oiled the creaking springs. We had no trouble in finding a top, as half the people in the country had come in wagons provided with covers only a year or so before. We got four bows and attached them to the box, one at each end, and the other two at equal distances between. These bows were made of hard-wood, and were a quarter of an inch thick and an inch and a half wide. They ran up straight on either side for two or three feet, and then rounded over, like a croquet-wicket, being high enough so that as we stood upright in the wagon-box our heads would just nicely clear them. Over this skeleton we stretched our white canvas cover, and tied it down tightly along the sides. This made what we called the cabin. There was an ample flap in front, which could be let down at night and fastened back inside during the day. At the rear end the cloth folded around, and was drawn together with a "puckering-string," precisely like a button-bag. By drawing the string tightly this back end could be entirely closed up; or the string could be let out, and the opening made any size wanted. After the cover was adjusted we stood off and admired our work.

"Looks like an elephant on wheels," said Jack.

"Or an old-fashioned sun-bonnet for a giantess," I added.

"Anyhow, I'll wager a cheese it'll keep out the rain, unless it comes down too hard," said Jack. "Now for the smaller parts of our rigging, and the stores."

On the back end we fastened a feed-box for the horses, as long as the wagon-box was wide, and ten or twelve inches square, with a partition in the middle. We put stout iron rings in the corners of this, making a place to tie the horses. On the dash-board outside we built another box, for tools. This was wedge-shaped, about five inches wide at the top, but running down to an inch or two at the bottom, and had a hinged cover. We put aboard a satchel containing the little additional clothing which we thought we should need. Things in this line which did not seem to be absolutely necessary were ruled out--indeed, for the sake of lightness we decided to take just as little of everything that we could. We made another box, some two feet long, a foot deep, and fourteen inches wide, with a hinged cover, which we called the "pantry," for our supply of food. This we stood in the wagon with the satchel. Usually in the daytime after we started each of these rode comfortably on the bed back of the seat. This bed was a rather simple affair, made up of some bed-clothing and pillows arranged on a thick layer of hay in the bottom of the wagon-box. Our small two-wick oil-stove we put in front next to the dash-board, a lantern we hung up on one of the bows, and a big tin pail for the horses we suspended under the wagon.

"Since you're going to be cook," I said to Jack, "you tend to getting the dishes together."

"They'll be few enough," he answered. "I don't like to wash 'em. Tin mostly, I guess; because tin won't break."

So he put a few knives and forks and spoons, tin plates and cups, a frying-pan, a small copper kettle, and a few other utensils in another box, which also found a home on the bed. Other things which we did not forget were a small can of kerosene; two half-gallon jugs, one for milk and one for water; a basket of eggs; a nickel clock (we called it the chronometer); and in the tool-box a hatchet, a monkey-wrench, screw-driver, small saw, a piece of rope, one or two straps, and a few nails, screws, rivets, and similar things which might come handy in case of a wreck.

"Now for the armament and the life-boat," said Jack.

For armament Jack contributed a double-barrelled shot-gun and a heavy forty-five-calibre repeating rifle, and I a light forty-four-calibre repeating rifle, and a big revolver of the same calibre (though using a slightly shorter cartridge), with a belt and holster. This revolver we stored in the tool-box, chiefly for use in case we were boarded by pirates, while the guns we hung in leather loops in the top of the cover. In the tool-box we put a good supply of ammunition and plenty of matches. We also each carried a match-box, a pocket compass, and a stout jack-knife.

"Now, how's your life-boat?" asked Jack.

I led her out. She was a medium-sized brown Colorado pony, well decorated with brands, and with a white face and two white feet. She wore a big Mexican saddle and a horse-hair bridle with a silver bit.

"She'll do," said Jack. "In case of wreck, we'll escape on her, if possible. She'll also be very handy in making landings where the harbor is poor, and in exploring unknown coasts."

All of this work took several days, but when it was done the Rattletrap was ready for the voyage, and we decided to start the next morning.

"She's as prairie-worthy a craft as ever scoured the plain," was Jack's opinion; "and if we can keep the four wheels from starting in opposite directions we'll be all right."

But where was Ollie all this while? The fact is I had forgotten about Ollie. And who was Ollie, anyhow? Ollie was Jack's little nephew, and he lived back East somewhere--I don't remember where. The nearer we got ready to start, the more firmly Jack became convinced that Ollie would like to go along, so at last he sent for him to come, and he arrived the night before our start. Ollie liked the idea of the trip so much that he simply stood and looked at the wagon, the guns, the pony, and the horses, and was speechless. At last he managed to say,

"Uncle Jack, it'll be just like a picnic, won't it?"

The next morning we started as early as we could. But it was not before people were up.

"Where be they going?" asked Grandpa Oldberry.

"Oh, Nebraska, and Wyoming, and the Black Hills, and any crazy place they hear of," answered Squire Poinsett.

"They'll all be scalped by Injuns," said Grandpa Oldberry. "Ain't the Injuns bad this fall?"

"So I was a-reading," said the Squire. "And in the hills I should be afeared of b'ar."

"Right," returned Grandpa. "B'ar and sim'lar varmints. And more 'specially boss-thieves and sich-like cut-throats. I disremember seeing three scalawags starting off on such a fool trip since afore the war."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A VIRGINIA CAVALIER.[1]

[1] Begun in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 868.

BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.

CHAPTER IX.

The remaining time of George's stay at Greenway Court sped on rapidly--too fast for Lord Fairfax, who realized every day how close the boy had got to his heart.

As for Lance, a real friendship had grown up between him and George, and the old soldier thought with keen regret of the impending departure.

Black Bear had remained at Greenway until his wound was well on the way to recovery, but, as Lance said, "an Injun can walk on a broken leg and climb a tree with a broken arm," so that when Black Bear considered himself recovered a white man would have thought his cure scarcely begun.

Lord Fairfax found out that the Indian was the son of Tanacharison, one of the few chiefs who were friendly to the English and unfriendly to the French. On finding this out the Earl sent for Black Bear and had a long talk with him. With most Indians the idea of sparing an enemy seemed the extreme of folly; but Black Bear was of superior intelligence, and it had dawned upon him long before that the white men knew more than the red men about most things. And when he himself became the object of kindness, when he recalled George's remembering to give him water in his agony, and Lance's endeavors to cure his wound, the Indian's hard but not ignoble heart was touched. His father was reported among the wisest of the chiefs, and he had warned his tribe against taking either the French or the English side, as it was not their quarrel. Lord Fairfax found that in Black Bear, an uneducated savage who could neither read nor write, he had a man of strong natural intelligence, and one worth conciliating. He came to Greenway Court with blood and fire in his heart, and he left it peaceably inclined, and anxious for the friendship of the whits men. On the eve of his departure he said to George:

"White brother, if ever you are in the Indian land and want help, call on Black Bear, or Tanacharison, the great chief who dwells on the other side of the mountains where the two rivers come together, and you will be heard as quickly as the doe hears the bleat of her young."

Next morning Black Bear had disappeared, and was no more seen.

The time came, about the middle of December, when George left Greenway Court for Mount Vernon. It was in a mild spell of weather, and advantage had to be taken of it to make the journey, as the roads were likely to be impassable later in the season. He was to travel on horse-back, Billy following him on a mule and carrying the portmanteau.

The night before he left he had a long conversation with Lord Fairfax in the library. The Earl gently hinted at a wish that George might remain with him always, and that ample provision would be made for him in that event; but George, with tact and gratitude, evaded the point. He felt a powerful attachment towards Lord Fairfax, but he had no mind to be anybody's son except his father's and his mother's son. The Earl's last words on parting with him that night were:

"I desire you to promise me that, in any emergency of any kind--and there will be many in your life--you will call on me as your friend if not your father."

George answered, with gratitude in his heart, "I will gladly promise that, my lord; and it is great encouragement to me to feel that I have such a friend."

Next morning, after an early breakfast, George's horse and Billy's mule were brought to the door. All the negroes were assembled to bid him good-by. Cæsar hoped he would come back soon, but not for any more fights with Indians, and each had some good wish for him. After shaking hands with each one, George grasped Lance's hand.

"Good-by, Lance," said he. "I never can thank you enough for what you have taught me; not only fencing, but"--here George blushed a little at the recollection of his first fencing lesson--"teaching me to control my temper."

"You were the aptest scholar I ever had, Mr. Washington," answered the old soldier; "and as for your temper, I have never seen you anything but mild and gentle since that first day."

George then went to the library to find the Earl. He had meant to say something expressive of gratitude, but all through his life words failed him when his heart was overflowing. Lord Fairfax, too, was silent for a moment; but taking down the smaller of the two swords over the mantel-piece, he handed it to George.

"This sword," he said, "I wore in the service of the Great Duke. I give it to you as being worthy to wear it, and I charge you never to draw it in an unworthy cause."

"I promise you, my lord," was all that George could say in reply; but Lord Fairfax, who was a good judge of men, knew all that was passing in the boy's heart. The two wrung each other's hand; and George, going out, mounted his horse and rode off, with Billy trotting behind on the mule, and Rattler running at his heels.

For the first few miles George felt the keen regret which every sensitive young soul must feel at leaving a place and persons dearly loved. At the point on the mountain-side where, on his way to Greenway, the Earl had stopped and showed him his first view of the house, George stopped again, and looked long and sadly. But once turned from it, and out of sight of it, his mind recovered its spring. He remembered that he was on the way to Mount Vernon, and would soon be with his brother Laurence and his sister-in-law, whom he dearly loved. Then there was little Mildred, a baby girl when he had been at Mount Vernon a year before. He wondered how big she was then. And Betty would be there, and he would hear from his mother, and see her soon after Christmas. On the whole, what with these pleasant prospects, and fine clear December weather, and a good horse to ride, George began to whistle cheerfully, and presently called back to Billy:

"How do you like the notion of Christmas at Mount Vernon, Billy?"

"I likes it mightily, suh," replied Billy, very promptly. "Dee ain' no Injuns at Mount Vernon, an' dee black folks git jes as good wittles in de kitchen as de white folks gits--tuckey, an' graby, an' all de pudden dat's lef over, an' plenty o' 'lasses, an' heap o' urr things."

George travelled much faster than the lumbering coach in which he had made the best part of his first journey, and he had continuous good weather. On the fourth day, in the afternoon, he shouted delightedly to Billy, "There is the blue water, Billy!" and pointed to a silver line that glittered in the wintry sun. It was the Potomac, and a few miles' riding brought them to Mount Vernon.

As George rode up to the broad front porch a girlish figure flew out of the door, and Betty clasped him in her arms. He knew he had always loved Betty, but until then he did not fully realize how dear his only sister was to him. Then there was his brother Laurence--a handsome, military-looking man, but pale and slight in comparison with George, who was a young Hercules in development--and his sister-in-law, a pretty young woman of whom he was fond and proud. And toddling about was little Mildred, whom Betty had taught to say "Uncle George," in anticipation of his arrival. All were delighted to see him; and his brother Laurence, telling him that Admiral Vernon, his old friend, for whom he had changed the name of the plantation to Mount Vernon from Hunting Creek, was visiting him, was for presenting him then and there to the Admiral. But Betty interposed.

"Wait until George has changed his clothes, brother, for I am sure he looks much better in his blue cloth jacket and his brocaded waistcoat, made of our mother's wedding-gown; and I want the Admiral to think well of him at first, and--oh, George has a sword! He thinks he is a man now!"

George blushed a little, but he was very willing, boy like, to tell of how Lord Fairfax gave him the rapier, and Laurence and Mrs. Washington and Betty were all delighted, except that Betty wished it had been the one with the diamond hilt, which caused George to sniff at her ignorance.

"That was a sword that anybody could buy who had money enough; but this is a sword that has seen service, as Lord Fairfax told me. He wore it at Bouchain."

As Betty had never heard of Bouchain before, she very wisely held her peace. But she soon dragged George off up stairs to the little room which was his whenever he staid at Mount Vernon, and where Billy had preceded him with the portmanteau. George was full of questions about his mother and everybody at Ferry Farm, and Betty was full of questions about Greenway Court and Lord Fairfax, so they made but little headway in their mutual inquiries. Suddenly, as George glanced out of the window towards the river, he saw a beautiful black frigate lying at anchor. It was near sunset of a clear December evening, and a pale green light was over the river, the land, and the sky. Every mast was clearly outlined, and her spars were exactly and beautifully squared in true man-of-war style. The union-jack flying from her peak was distinctly visible in the evening light, and the faint echo of the bugle came softly over the water, and died among the wooded hills along the shore.

George stood motionless and entranced. It was the first ship of war he had ever seen, and the beauty and majesty of the sight thrilled him to the core of his heart. Betty chattered on glibly.

"That is the frigate _Bellona_. The Captain and officers are here all the time, and some of them are brother Laurence's old friends that he served with at the siege of Cartagena. I expect some of them will be here to supper to-night. Besides Admiral Vernon, who is staying here, are Mr. William Fairfax and his son William," and Betty rattled off a dozen names, showing that the house was full for Christmas.

After Betty went out, when George, with Billy's assistance, was putting on his best clothes, he could not keep his eyes from wandering to the window, through which the _Bellona_ was still seen in the waning light, looming up larger as the twilight fell. Presently he saw a boat put off with several officers, which quickly made the Mount Vernon landing.

When he was all dressed, with his fine white brocade waistcoat and his paste knee-buckles, he dearly wished to wear his sword, as gentlemen wore swords upon occasions when they were dressed for ceremony. But he felt both shy and modest about it, and at last concluded to leave it in his room. When he went downstairs he found the lower hall brightly illuminated with wax candles and a glorious fire, and decked with holly and mistletoe. It was full of company, several officers being present in uniform, and one tall, handsome, gray-haired officer stood before the hearth talking with Mrs. Laurence Washington. George guessed that to be Admiral Vernon, and his guess was correct.

As he descended the last steps, and advanced to where Mrs. Laurence Washington stood, every eye that fell upon him admired him. His journey, his intercourse with a man like Lord Fairfax, and his fencing lessons had improved his air and manner, graceful as both had been before. Mrs. Washington, laying her hand on his shoulder, which was already on a level with the Admiral's, said:

"Let me present to you my brother, Mr. George Washington, who has come to spend his Christmas with us."

Admiral Vernon glanced at him keenly as he shook hands with him.

"My brother has just returned from a visit to the Earl of Fairfax, at Greenway Court, my father's relative"--for Mrs. Washington had been Anne Fairfax of Belvoir. "The Earl has been most kind to him, and honored him by giving him the sword which he wore at the siege of Bouchain."

"I believe he entered the town," said Admiral Vernon. "I have often heard of the adventure, and it was most daring."

"Why have you not the sword on, George?" asked his sister.

"Because--because--" George stammered, and then became hopelessly embarrassed.

"Because he is a modest young gentleman," said the Admiral, smiling.

George was introduced to many other persons, all older than himself; but presently he recognized William Fairfax, a cousin of his sister's, who had been at Mount Vernon with him the Christmas before. William was a merry youngster, a year or two older than George, but a foot or two shorter. The two boys gravitated together, and, as young gentlemen in those days were expected to be very retiring, they took their places in a corner, and when supper was announced they made up the very tail of the procession towards the dining-room. At supper the three young people--George and Betty and William Fairfax--sat together. The conversation was gay and sprightly until the ladies left, when it grew more serious.

"Close up, gentlemen, close up!" cried Laurence Washington, cordially, motioning them to take the seats left vacant by the ladies. George and William Fairfax rose to leave the room then, as boys were not expected to remain on those occasions, but Laurence stopped them.

"Stay, George and William; you are both old enough now to be company for men; and especially I desire an account from you, George, of how affairs are progressing at Greenway Court. I hear my Lord Fairfax had to repel an attack from the Indians within the last month. That, Admiral," he continued, turning to Admiral Vernon, "is one of the pleasures which Lord Fairfax exchanged for a residence in England."

"How does he stand it, Mr. Washington?" asked Admiral Vernon. "Does he remain in his eyrie among the mountains because he is too proud to acknowledge his loneliness?"

"I think not, sir," answered George. "He has a very large, comfortable house, much like a fortress. It is well furnished with everything, including books; my Lord Fairfax is the greatest reader I ever saw. He does not lead an idle life; on the contrary, he takes great interest in public affairs, and is lieutenant of the county. Especially is he concerned about our northwest boundary, and is preparing to have his lands west of the Alleghany Mountains surveyed, I believe, as much in the interest of the country as of his own, for the French are encroaching on that side."

Although George spoke with the greatest modesty, it was evident that he understood his subject. It was a deeply interesting one to all present, as it was perfectly well known that the first serious collision between the French and English in America would mean war between France and England.

Admiral Vernon and the other officers asked many questions about the temper of the Indians towards the English, the disposition of the French forts, and other matters, to all of which George gave brief but intelligent answers. After an hour spent in conversation at the table the scraping of fiddles was heard in the hall.

"Come, gentlemen," cried Laurence, "the ladies are waiting for us; we cannot be so ungallant as to remain here longer."

The large room to the right of the entrance had been cleared for dancing, and there, too, were wax candles shining amid Christmas greens, and a Christmas fire blazing on the hearth. On two planks placed across two wooden "crickets" sat Yellow Jake and Lef'-hand Torm, the negro fiddlers, tuning up their instruments and grinning from ear to ear. In every window merry black faces peered with beady eyes and shining ivories; for under the mild and patriarchal rule in Virginia in those days the negroes were considered as humble members of the family, who had a share in all its pleasures, as in all its sorrows. There were many ladies present in hoops and powder, and with stiff brocades that rustled as they walked, and great fans, which they used in dancing the minuet as the gentlemen used their cocked hats. George, in his heart, thought his sister Anne the handsomest of them all, and that in a year or two Betty would be a charmingly pretty girl. As it was, Mistress Betty, in her white sarcenet silk, looked a picture of modest and girlish beauty. She loved to dance; and when George came up, as the gentlemen were selecting their partners, and said, with a smile, "Come, Betty, nobody here wants to dance with a girl and boy like you and me, so we will have to dance together," Betty jumped for joy.

"If I had waited, William Fairfax would have asked me to dance," she whispered to George; "but I would much rather dance with you, because you are so much taller and older-looking, and William is _such_ a boy!"