CHAPTER XX.

THE ALARM AND THE PURSUIT.

"Corporal of the guard! corporal of the guard!" shouted the sentinel in the passage to the chambers, "corporal of the guard! corporal of the guard!"

The subaltern flew up the narrow stairway that led to the room of the prisoner, and demanded the meaning of the outcry.

The soldier was standing at the open door of the apartment, looking in with a suspicious eye on the supposed British officer. On observing his lieutenant, he fell back with habitual respect; and replied, with an air of puzzled thought:

"I don't know, sir, but just now the prisoner looked queer. Ever since the preacher has left him, he don't look as he used to do--but," gazing intently over the shoulder of his officer, "it must be him, too! There is the same powdered head, and the darn in the coat, where he was hit the day we had the last brush with the enemy."

"And then all this noise is occasioned by your doubting whether that poor gentleman is your prisoner or not, is it, sirrah? Who do you think it can be else?"

"I don't know who else it can be," returned the fellow, sullenly; "but he has grown thicker and shorter, if it is he; and see for yourself, sir, he shakes all over, like a man in an ague."

This was but too true. Cæsar was an alarmed auditor of this short conversation, and, from congratulating himself upon the dexterous escape of his young master, his thoughts were very naturally beginning to dwell upon the probable consequences to his own person. The pause that succeeded the last remark of the sentinel in no degree contributed to the restoration of the faculties. Lieutenant Mason was busied in examining with his own eyes the suspected person of the black, and Cæsar was aware of the fact by stealing a look through a passage under one of his arms, that he had left expressly for the purpose of reconnoitering.[117]

[Footnote 117: surveying the situation with his eye.]

Captain Lawton would have discovered the fraud immediately, but Mason was by no means so quick-sighted as his commander. He therefore turned rather contemptuously to the soldier, and, speaking in an undertone, observed:

"That anabaptist, methodistical, Quaker, psalm-singing rascal has frightened the boy with his farrago[118] about flames and brimstone. I'll step in and cheer him with a little rational conversation."

[Footnote 118: medley.]

"I have heard of fear making a man white," said the soldier, drawing back, and staring as if his eyes would start from their sockets, "but it has changed the royal captain to a black!"

The truth was that Cæsar, unable to hear what Mason uttered in a low voice, and having every fear aroused in him by what had already passed, incautiously removed the wig a little from one of his ears, in order to hear the better, without in the least remembering that the color might prove fatal to his disguise. The sentinel had kept his eyes fastened on his prisoner, and noticed the action. The attention of Mason was instantly drawn to the same object; and, forgetting all delicacy for a brother officer in distress, or, in short, forgetting everything but the censure that might alight on his corps, the lieutenant sprang forward and seized the terrified African by the throat; for no sooner had Cæsar heard his color named than he knew that his discovery was certain, and, at the first sound of Mason's heavy boot on the floor, he arose from his seat and retreated precipitately[119] to a corner of the room.

[Footnote 119: with haste.]

"Who are you?" cried Mason, dashing the head of the man against the angle of the wall at each interrogatory. "Who are you, and where is the Englishman? Speak, thou thunder-cloud! Answer me, you jackdaw, or I'll hang you on the gallows of the spy!"

Cæsar continued firm. Neither the threats nor the blows could extract any reply, until the lieutenant, by a very natural transition in the attack, sent his heavy boot forward in a direction that brought it in direct contact with the most sensitive part of the negro--his shin. The most obdurate heart could not have exacted further patience, and Cæsar instantly gave in. The first words he spoke were:

"Golly! Massa, you t'ink I got no feelin'?"

"By heavens!" shouted the lieutenant, "it is the negro himself! Scoundrel! where is your master, and who was the priest?"

While he was speaking as if about to renew the attack, Cæsar cried aloud for mercy, promising to tell all he knew.

"Who was the priest?" repeated the dragoon, drawing back his formidable[120] leg and holding it in threatening suspense.

[Footnote 120: exciting fear.]

"Harvey, Harvey!" cried Cæsar, dancing from one leg to the other, as he thought each member in turn might be assailed.

"Harvey who, you black villain?" cried the impatient lieutenant, as he executed a full measure of vengeance by letting his leg fly.

"Birch!" shrieked Cæsar, falling on his knees, the tears rolling in large drops over his face.

"Harvey Birch!" echoed the trooper, hurling the black from him and rushing from the room. "To arms! To arms! Fifty guineas for the life of the peddler spy--give no quarter to either. Mount! Mount! To arms! To horse!"

The first impulse of Henry was, certainly, to urge the beast he rode to his greatest speed at once. But the forward movement that the youth made for this purpose was instantly checked by the peddler. Henry reluctantly restrained his impatience and followed the direction of the peddler. His imagination, however, continually alarmed him with the fancied sounds of pursuit.

"What see you, Harvey?" he cried, observing the peddler to gaze towards the building they had left with ominous interest; "what see you at the house?"

"That which bodes us no good," returned the peddler. "Throw aside the mask and wig; you will need all your senses without much delay. Throw them in the road. There are none before us that I dread, but there are those behind who will give us a fearful race! Now ride, Captain Wharton, for your life, and keep at my heels."

The instant that Harvey put his horse to his speed, Captain Wharton was at his heels urging the miserable animal he rode to the utmost. A very few jumps convinced the captain that his companion was fast leaving him, and a fearful glance thrown behind informed him that his enemies were as speedily approaching.

"Had we not better leave our horses?" said Henry, "and make for the hills across the fields on our left? The fence will stop our pursuers."

"That way lies the gallows," returned the peddler; "these fellows go three feet to our two, and would mind the fences no more than we do these ruts; but it is a short quarter to the turn, and there are two roads behind the wood. They may stand to choose until they can take the track, and we shall gain a little upon them there."

"But this miserable horse is blown already," cried Henry, urging his beast with the aid of the bridle, at the same time that Harvey aided his efforts by applying the lash of a heavy riding-whip he carried; "he will never stand it for half a mile farther."

"A quarter will do; a quarter will do," said the peddler; "a single quarter will save us, if you follow my directions."

Somewhat cheered by the cool and confident manner of his companion, Henry continued silently urging his horse forward. Soon the captain again proposed to leave their horses and dash into the thicket.

"Not yet, not yet," said Birch in a low voice; "the road falls from the top of this hill as steep as it rises; first let us gain the top." While speaking, they reached the desired summit, and both threw themselves from their horses, Henry plunging into the thick underwood, which covered the side of the mountain for some distance above them. Harvey stopped to give each of their beasts a few severe blows of his whip, that drove them headlong down the path on the other side of the eminence, and then followed his example.

The peddler entered the thicket with a little caution, and avoided, as much as possible, rustling or breaking the branches in his way. There was but time only to shelter his person from view, when a dragoon led up the ascent, and on reaching the height, he cried aloud:

"I saw one of their horses turning the hill this minute!"

"Drive on; spur forward, my lads," shouted Mason; "give the Englishman quarter, but cut the peddler down, and make an end of him."

"Now," said the peddler, rising from the cover to reconnoitre, and standing for a moment in suspense, "all that we gain is clear gain; for, as we go up, they go down. Let us be stirring."

"But will they not follow us, and surround the mountain?" said Henry rising, and imitating the labored but rapid progress of his companion; "remember they have foot as well as horse, and, at any rate, we shall starve in the hills."

"Fear nothing, Captain Wharton," returned the peddler with confidence; "this is not the mountain that I would be on, but necessity has made me a dexterous pilot among these hills. I will lead you where no man will dare to follow."