CHAPTER VII.

CLIPPING THE LEFT WING.

When the lads arrived at the cross-road leading to Master Earle’s, Ira gave his horse to Dan, and sent him to the farm to exchange the animal for the one he had left there.

Dan appeared so dull, and knew so little about affairs in Fort Edward, whence they supposed he had come, that the inmates of the house at length decided he was some half-witted fellow who knew enough to bring their horse home, and but little more.

“You better follow him down to the main road, and make sure he turns the right way,” Mistress Earle said to her eldest son, a boy of a dozen years. Therefore he, unnoticed by Dan, came down the road, and was near enough, when the latter joined his comrade, to recognize Ira.

Surprised at seeing the young scout there, the boy stood staring after the horsemen until they had disappeared from view down the Fort Edward road.

Then he turned toward his home to make known the wonderful discovery; but getting a glimpse of a horseman coming from the direction of Bennington, he waited that he might see who he was. The surprise he had felt on seeing Ira Le Geyt, was deepened upon beholding in the third rider none other than his friend Fred Lyman. When he was within hearing, he cried:

“Hello, Fred! Your cousin, Ira Le Geyt, is just ahead of you.”

“What’s that?” young Lyman asked, reining in his horse.

“I say your cousin, Ira Le Geyt, has just gone down the road. Don’t you remember that ma told your folks about him when she let you know my pa and your pa had been captured by the rebels?”

“Yes; but she said he had gone back to the fort to get help.”

“That is what she thought—what I thought until just now,” the boy explained, and he quickly told of his discovery.

“I don’t understand it,” the young Tory said in a puzzled tone. “It looks as if he had been in Bennington ever since night before last, and if that’s so, I don’t see why he didn’t come out to our house.”

Discuss the matter as the boys would, neither could explain the mystery, and finally Fred said:

“I’ll overtake him and find out,” and, whipping up his horse, he trotted rapidly down the road in the trail of the two scouts.

They must also have ridden fast, for it was not until the two were breaking their fast beside a wayside spring, that young Lyman came up with them.

He was clattering down a small hill when he first caught sight of them, and would have been glad to stop and reconnoiter a little, for he recognized them as the two lads he had seen at Bennington, in company with the rebels. But his horse had seen the other animals, and with a loud whinny dashed on toward them.

The young scouts heard the noise of the horse’s hoofs before he came into view, and were on their feet, rifles in hand, ready for any emergency the moment he appeared. Recognizing the rider, Ira exclaimed:

“It is Fred Lyman! What can he be doing here? We must stop him and find out.”

“We won’t have to do that,” Dan replied. “He’s trying to hold up his beast. Perhaps he has been trying to overhaul us.”

In another moment the young Tory drew up within a few feet of the lads, eyeing them somewhat suspiciously. They, on their part, looked sharply in return, but waited for him to speak.

“Hello! are you Ira Le Geyt?” he asked at last.

“That is what they call me,” the young scout replied pleasantly, “and you are my cousin, Fred Lyman?”

The newcomer leaped to the ground and gazed at the speaker earnestly before he spoke, and then it was to use almost precisely the same words his father had a few days previous in the British camp:

“You don’t look like him.”

“Well, you look like cousin Fred,” Ira replied, “though you may have grown a little since I last saw you,” (and he added under his breath, “but it is mighty little, for I saw you only yesterday”).

“I have grown lots since you visited us,” young Lyman declared with evident pride, “but see here, Ira, where have you been all the time since the rebels captured father?” and there was an angry tone in his voice.

But the young scout was not to be caught in that way.

“In Bennington,” he replied truthfully.

“I thought I saw you there hob-nobbing with the rebels.”

“One must sometimes appear friendly with the enemy, if he wants to learn all he can about them,” the lad answered meaningly. “See here!” and he drew from his coat the list of the Bennington stores and his rude map of the village, handing them without hesitation to the young Tory, as he added, “Does that look as if I had been idle?”

“No,” Fred admitted with some reluctance; “but why didn’t you go back to the fort after the soldiers? You might have had them here by this time, and rescued pa and Master Earle.”

“Because my orders were to obtain all the information about the goods and the town, that I could, and I am in the habit of obeying General Burgoyne’s commands,” was the reply, with a slight emphasis on the last three words.

“Well, you might have come to the house and seen us, so’s to explain what you were doing.”

“When with the enemy it is sometimes wisest to ignore your best friends,” Ira retorted, stating another general truth, and leaving it for his hearer to make the application.

Lyman was for the time silenced, and the young scout in his turn became questioner.

“How is it that you are here, Fred?” he began. “On your way to the fort?”

“Yes, I, too, have important news for General Burgoyne,” he replied with a show of pride.

“What has happened since I came away?” was the next query, and in a tone which implied, “not a great deal.”

Stung by the tone rather than the words, the young Tory replied sharply:

“You needn’t think you know everything, Ira Le Geyt. I learned this morning that Colonel John Stark has arrived and is to take charge of the Yankee forces.”

“He came last night, and I had a long talk with him this morning.”

“There’ll be two thousand militia in the village before night, and the general ought to know that,” young Lyman added, but not quite so confidently.

“Two thousand, two hundred and fifty,” Ira added quietly. “Anything else, Fred?”

“No,” he at length drawled.

“Hardly necessary for you to take a long ride down to the fort for that news, seeing that I have gathered it already,” the young scout said curtly. “Have dinner with us, and then you may go back home. I promise that by day after to-morrow, if not before, General Burgoyne will have an army in Bennington.”

“But I wanted to see the general,” Fred confessed. “I’m going to ask him if he will give me a place on his staff. Do you know anything about that, cousin Ira?” and there was an eagerness in his voice which showed how much he coveted the position.

“Uncle Horace spoke of it,” Ira replied, “and I’ll tell you what I advise.”

“What?” the listener asked eagerly.

“Go home now, and when the king’s soldiers march out of Bennington loaded with plunder, follow them. Put in a claim that you were the one who first discovered that the rebels were gathering stores. Your father will swear to it, I’ll back him up, and the general will be so good-natured, because of the victory, that he’ll give you anything.”

“A captain’s commission?”

“Perhaps a major’s.”

“I reckon I’ll ask for a colonel’s,” the young Tory declared. “What I have done is worth it,” and he fastened his horse to a tree, after which he went toward the food.

Ira introduced Dan, adding:

“He is my right hand in the special work I am doing,” and then all chatted merrily together as they ate.

An hour later Fred shook hands with his companions, and started back to town. As he rode over the brink of the hill, he cried:

“I’ll see you later, boys.”

The scouts glanced at each other, and Ira remarked:

“We got rid of him more readily than I expected. He might have made us much trouble had he gone on to the camp.”

“He’ll be dreamin’ of that colonel’s commission,” Dan added laughingly.

They resumed their journey, and after a time, Ira said:

“Fred’s coming has given me an idea, Dan.”

“I take it that it’s a good one,” was the confident reply.

“That you go with me into the fort as Fred Lyman, and stay there while I go back to Bennington with the British forces. Somehow I can’t get over the idea that we shall need a friend to the Cause there while I’m gone. Something might happen, you know, that should be reported to General Schuyler immediately.”

“If you say that’s the thing to do, I’m ready. You’ll find I’ll make a good cousin,” and he laughed to himself as though the idea was a pleasing one.

They fell to discussing the details of this new plan while riding slowly along, for now they did not care to reach the vicinity of the fort until after nightfall. A mile or two further on Ira rode into the woods, where he waited until Dan had made a long detour and crossed the river to General Schuyler’s headquarters to acquaint him with what was transpiring in Bennington, as well as to tell him of the arrangements made for the former, under the name of Fred Lyman, to enter the British lines.

He was so long delayed that Ira had grown impatient, and on his appearing cried:

“I thought you would never come!”

“Lay it all to the general,” the lad replied. “He hated to let me go into the fort wuss than pizen.”

“What did he say?” Ira asked, as he remounted his horse.

“That ’twas bad ’nough to have you thar without riskin’ another life.”

“What did you say?”

“That I entered the service to risk my life, an’ I might as well do it thar, as anywhere.”

“Then he let you go?”

“Nope. Not till I had said, ‘Let us s’pose a case, general. S’posin’ the first Britishers sent to Bennington get whipped, as they will, an’ the commander sends back for reinforcements. How be you goin’ to know it in time to send a force to wallop them? Howsomever, if I’m thar in the fort, you’ll get the news mighty soon, an’ can ’range to beat the red-coats out the second time. I reckon that is what Ira is providin’ for, though he hasn’t said so.’ Then he shook his head, sayin’ kinder proudly, I thought, ‘You don’t fool that boy a great deal. Go ahead, Dan,’ an’ ahead I came.”

Ira laughed softly to himself as they galloped on to the fort. Arriving, they were allowed to enter, and, late though it was, sought General Burgoyne at once.

“My cousin, Fred Lyman, general,” the young scout said, presenting his companion.

The officer looked at the boy searchingly, and said:

“I like your looks, Master Lyman. I believe you want a place on my staff?”

“I did,” the lad began slowly, “but now that I’ve been workin’ with Ira, I’m thinkin’ I’d like a job suthin’ like his.”

The general laughed. “You shall have it,” he promised. “Train him, Master Le Geyt, so he can take your place when you are away. He will have the same pay.”

Then he gave his undivided attention to the papers the young scout had spread out. The list of goods greatly interested him.

“Such a haul will mean everything to us,” he muttered, and then turned to the plan of the village. After a moment he called an orderly, saying:

“Tell Colonel Baum to come here.”

When the Hessian arrived Ira explained the drawing to him, and for some time the two officers discussed the paper in German. At length General Burgoyne remarked in English:

“You understand the situation, colonel?”

“Perfectly,” he replied in the same language. “With this young man to guide me, I see no reason why I may not make a successful raid.”

“When can you start?”

“At dawn.”

“How many men had he better take?” the commander asked of the scout.

“The rebels will make some pretense of a defense,” Ira replied carelessly. “I would take enough to give them a good drubbing. Say one thousand.”

“A larger force than I had supposed necessary,” General Burgoyne added musingly. “Still, as you say, Master Le Geyt, we better have enough to teach the Yankees a lesson.” Then to his subordinate he said:

“There are the two companies of Loyalists, Colonel Baum, who have asked permission to go on this raid. You could take them, and five hundred of your own men, making up the thousand with a squad of Indians. They would be useful in scouring the surrounding country.”

“It shall be as you say, general,” the colonel replied.

“Here are your orders,” continued Burgoyne. “Seize those supplies; scour the country; test the disposition of the people; levy contributions on the towns, and last, though not least, bring back with you twelve or thirteen hundred horses.”

His subordinate repeated the orders, and then hurried away to get his troops ready for their long march by sunrise.

To the waiting scouts the general said:

“Go to your own quarters for a few hours’ rest. But you, Master Le Geyt, will hold yourself ready to guide Colonel Baum and his forces to Bennington to-morrow. Master Lyman, you will remain here to guide a second force to the same town should such a movement be necessary.”

At dawn the two lads stood side by side, watching the soldiers as they marched out of the gates. First went the trained Hessians, moving as perfectly as a piece of machinery; then came the Tories, trying to imitate the regulars in their military precision, but making poor work of it; finally came the Indians, straggling and sullen because they had been placed in the rear.

“The colonel should reverse the order of march,” Ira said in a low tone to Dan, as he noted the scowling faces of the savages.

“It isn’t the only mistake he’ll fall into ’fore he gets back,” was his comrade’s reply. Then he asked, “What day is it?”

“The thirteenth of August,” was the reply. “But why do you ask?”

“The thirteenth,” Dan repeated. “I thought so; it means bad luck for the expedition,” and he looked straight into the face of his companion.

Both smiled, and as Colonel Baum and his staff now came riding by, Ira mounted his own horse and joined them.

For a distance of ten or twelve miles the army advanced quietly; then they came upon a party of skirmishers, who, after some sharp firing on both sides, retreated toward the town. A mile farther on the advance guard, while passing through a wooded country, ran into a small ambuscade, from which was poured a deadly fire. These Yankees were soon driven back; but not until a score or more officers and men had been killed or wounded.

“I had no idea the rebels would be so bold,” Colonel Baum said to Ira. “If this keeps on we shall be disabled before gaining the town.”

“Why not send the Indians on ahead,” the scout suggested. “They ought to be able to smoke out the Yankees, and drive them from their holes.”

“I’ll try it,” the officer replied, and ordered the savages to the front, a position they were now reluctant to take, for it began to appear as if the enemy would make a stout fight.

The only result was to change as targets the Hessians to the Indians, and so many of the redskins were shot down that the entire company became demoralized, falling back upon the rear troops.

Disheartened by these unexpected circumstances Colonel Baum sought out a safe halting-ground for the night, and sent back for reinforcements. Ira offered himself as the messenger, but received the reply:

“No, I need you here. You know the ground before us, and to-morrow I must have you select some place where I can entrench, and wait for troops from the fort to come up.”

Next day the skirmishers were no less vigilant, and it was under a harassing fire that the Hessian commander pushed forward past Mount Anthony, to the bend in the Walloomsac river, where, at the suggestion of his guide, he went into camp.

Before nightfall he had thrown up light entrenchments, and for the first time within twenty-four hours rested in fancied security, believing he could hold out any length of time against an enemy which he was now convinced outnumbered him two to one.

During the night a score or more Tories from the neighborhood joined his force, among them, to Ira’s surprise, Master Earle, Horace Lyman, and his son Fred. All were hearty in their greetings, and the young scout, taking the young Tory into his own tent, asked:

“How did Uncle Horace and Master Earle escape from the Yankees?”

“They were set free,” Fred replied. “Father thinks it was because they had no spare men for guards. The rebels are so afraid of being whipped by the king’s troops that they are turning out to the last man.”

“It looks that way,” Ira replied curtly.

When the sun rose on the morning of the fifteenth, it disclosed the Continental forces gathered on the opposite bank of the river and along the road to Bennington. Believing an attack near at hand, Colonel Baum arranged his forces in three lines, the Indians first, behind them the Tories, and his own troops in the rear. With the first skirmishing the redskins, unaccustomed to fighting pitched battles, began to slip away. Alarmed by this fact, the commander, knowing his young scout was familiar with the savage tongue, sent him off to stay, if possible, the flight of the fugitives, and, if unsuccessful in that, to go down the road toward the fort and hasten the coming of reinforcements.

This enabled Ira to refrain from fighting against his friends. He was an interested spectator, however, of what took place on that day and the next.

Content with an occasional skirmish, Colonel Stark allowed the first day to pass without decisive action, in the hope that another regiment of militia, which was hourly expected, might arrive. But early on the morning of the sixteenth he decided to wait no longer. Calling his men together he addressed them in words which have since become memorable:

“There are the red-coats. We must beat them to-day, or to-night my wife sleeps a widow.”

He then sent detachments on both flanks to gain, if possible, the British rear. He led the front attack himself, and after two hours broke the line of the few remaining Indians, who fled, crying:

“The woods are full of Yankees!”

The center of the attack now fell upon the Tories, who were driven back upon the Hessians, and the entire British force, yielding slowly, was at length pushed across the stream on their left.

Colonel Baum now attempted to retrieve himself by heading a new attack in person, but with no better success. He was mortally wounded, his troops routed, and his artillery captured.

Meanwhile a reinforcement of five hundred Hessians, under Lieutenant-Colonel Breyman, was coming to his aid. The messenger, asking for help, had reached the fort promptly, but for some reason the second force of regulars was not started for Bennington until the following morning, and Dan Cushing had ample time to get word to General Schuyler of the new movement. Therefore when Colonel Breyman left Fort Edward, Colonel Seth Warner, with a force of fresh militia, was close at his heels.

After the defeat of Baum the Continentals broke ranks in order to plunder. The watchful Ira succeeded in getting word to Colonel Stark that British reinforcements were to be expected at any minute. In vain that officer tried to rally his men, and Colonel Breyman, finding the Continentals unprepared for a second fight, would have made short work of them but for the arrival of Colonel Warner and his men.

The battle that now followed lasted until sunset, when the enemy fell back, and were pursued by the victorious Continentals until dark.

It was a straggling force of less than one hundred that finally reached Fort Edward, for the British loss numbered nine hundred and thirty-four, including one hundred and fifty-seven Tories. The guns, ammunition wagons, tents, baggage, and one thousand stand of small arms belonging to the red-coats, were left in the hands of the victors.

The next morning Ira and Dan walked over the scene of the conflict. In a thicket across the little brook they found the body of Fred Lyman. Apparently he had been in hiding when struck in the back by a stray bullet. Farther down the Heights were the bodies of Horace Lyman and James Earle. Both had been slain during the battle.

“There will be no need for you to go back to the fort with me,” Ira said a little later to his comrade. “The young Tory is dead.”

“But Dan Cushing is very much alive,” that lad retorted, “and is ready to take your report to General Schuyler.”

“I can give it in a sentence,” his companion said. “Tell him Burgoyne’s left wing has been clipped at Bennington.”