The Sherwood Ring (10 page)

"But, Dick!" I was still a little dazed with the suddenness of it all. "Surely they wouldn't dare! They can't just come out of the woods and kidnap the General as if — "

"Why can't they? Of course you think Peaceable wouldn't dare! That's what he's counting on. And the Beemer Mill is the very place to do it, too. The road bends around there under the mountain just before you get to the ford at the millstream. They'll hide in the ruins of the mill until the General starts crossing the ford, and then make a rush and trap them there in that hollow under the mountain. Nothing simpler. Peaceable will come with every man he has, and the General's got nobody with him but a couple of aides and about ten guards — Sputters told me so himself. What time did that fool say they were due to arrive here?"

"He didn't say exactly — just 'tonight.' "

"Well, if they're coming 'tonight,' then I don't see how they can be passing the Beemer Mill much before six at the earliest. Peaceable's men are supposed to be there at five. It's just after four now — if we hurry the horses a little, we ought to get there in time. Who's on duty in the hall there? You! Tarrington!"

"Yes, sir."

"Order all the men to mount: we're leaving at once."

"Yes, sir."

"Pass the word to the stable for my horse."

"Yes, sir."

"And tell Lieutenant Featherstone he can't go fishing till tomorrow."

"This is the sort of thing that always happens to me," said Lieutenant Featherstone, appearing around the corner of the house before Tarrington could even answer, riding his own horse and leading Dick's by the bridle. "I'm so hardened to it by this time that I got into my uniform and saddled up while I was waiting, just on the chance. Dear, dear, what a fine leave I
am
having, to be sure! What a holiday!"

"You can go fishing tomorrow," said Dick, swinging himself up into his saddle.

"But that's what you always say," complained Lieutenant Featherstone dolefully. "What will you bet I never even bait a hook before I go back to West Point? Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you at all. I haven't had any dinner yet, either."

Dick merely rose in his stirrups and shaded his eyes to look down the drive towards the South Meadow. "Tarrington! Can't you get those men along any faster?" he shouted.

"It was all my fault for forgetting the dinner," I said remorsefully. "Do let me cut you some bread and cheese to go with you. Dick, you haven't had a bite since morning. Please? It won't take a minute."

"A fine sight we'd look flashing after Peaceable Sherwood with a drawn sword in one hand and a slice of bread and cheese in the other! Just put some broth on the hob for us before you go to bed. I don't know when we'll be back; if the luck holds, we'll probably have to spend half the night herding a flock of prisoners up to the Goshen jail."

"You mean
you'll
be herding a flock of prisoners up to the Goshen jail," said Lieutenant Featherstone, firmly. "And I don't want any broth on the hob either, nasty stuff, probably made out of a cow. Is there any more of that ham left, Miss Shipley? Or the cake with the currants in it?"

Meanwhile, the news of the excitement had apparently spread through the farm like wildfire. I could see distant figures scurrying about the South Meadow like ants when their hill has been stepped on; the two hired men were lumbering up from the barn, the groom was running down the ladder from the hayloft, and Martha had appeared as if by magic from the kitchen, Susan from the dairy, and Deborah from the linen closet, all talking at once and wiping their hands on their aprons. Even the stable dog, losing his head, came dashing out of the yard and flew around in circles, barking at the top of his voice.

I went down the steps of the porch and put my hand on the neck of Dick's horse for a moment.

"Is it likely to be very dangerous, Dick?" I asked as quietly as I could.

"Well, I don't suppose Peaceable is just going to walk up and say, 'Here I am, boys, and which is the best room in the Goshen jail?' " Dick retorted, cheerfully. "Dear me, how unheroic I sound. I ought to be saying, 'We will conquer or die on the field!' as I give you a stern but tender look and bend down from my saddle to kiss you farewell."

"You're not going to die, and anyway I'm so little that if you try to stoop down from your saddle to me you'll probably overbalance and fall right on your face," I pointed out, doing my best to laugh back at him. "Never mind. You can turn for a moment and flourish your drawn sword as you ride out the gate, and I'll stand here on the porch steps and flutter my handkerchief after you in the most approved manner. Goodbye! Good luck! Don't slip on any more rocks! Lieutenant Featherstone, take good care of him!"

The horses wheeled and were off down the lane in a spurt of pebbles and a sudden clatter of hoofs. I put one hand on the nearest pillar to steady myself and stood there looking after them. But the lane and the two riders and the mounted men waiting for them by the gate all seemed to be swaying dizzily together, and I never did see whether Dick actually flourished the drawn sword or not. Then Martha, who was engaged to Sergeant Tarrington, flung her apron over her head and burst dramatically into tears.

"Oh, Miss Eleanor! Miss Eleanor! Miss Eleanor!" she wailed. "Whatever shall I do? He's gone and left me, and I just know in my heart that he's never going to come back again!"

I felt as if an enormous hand had suddenly closed about my own heart and was squeezing it dry.

"You stop that nonsense at once!" I said to her fiercely. "Do you want to have us all standing around screeching and caterwauling like idiots? Take that ridiculous apron off your head this minute, and do something! Go make a pie for him if you can't think of anything else. Pumpkin's what he likes, isn't it? At least, you're always slipping little pieces of it to him out at the back door."

"Why, Miss Eleanor, I never!" said Martha, lowering her apron and staring indignantly at me.

"That's more like the spirit. Now! Susan, make all the beds up fresh and see that there's a good fire in the parlor and the hall. The nights are getting cold and the men will be chilled to the bone if they're late. Debbie, leave your darning till tomorrow and go scrape some more lint for bandages — we don't know how many we may need. Jonathan, tell my father when he gets in from town that General Washington's coming, and ask him please to see if there's any of the good sherry still left. Amos, I want three chickens for the pot, and another side of bacon out of the smokehouse. Martha, fetch in some more grapes as soon as you've finished making your pie, and don't sob over the filling like that — do you want it to be all salty with your tears when Sergeant Tarrington eats it? He thinks very highly of your cooking, you know. Did I ever tell you what he once said to me about it? Well, he said .. ."

I talked about Sergeant Tarrington until Martha stopped crying and started giggling and blushing and telling me a long story about the first time he had ever kissed her. I made myself listen carefully to every word of it: anything was better than looking down the road and wondering what might be happening at the Beemer Mill. I baked a fresh currant cake for Lieutenant Featherstone. I set the chickens simmering in their broth on the hob. I started a batch of new bread for breakfast. I helped Debbie scrape the lint. I made sure that nothing was missing or out of place in the medicine chest. And all the while, in spite of everything I could do, I found myself listening for the sound of somebody coming down the road — listening so hard that the faintest rustle outside seemed louder than a voice in the same room with me. But at seven o'clock it was only my father riding in from New Jerusalem. At half past eight it was only the minister stopping by on his way home from a sick call near Stonybrook Ford.

It must have been almost nine when I finally heard again the slow clop of hoofs coming up the lane. I sprang to my feet and ran out to the porch, with all the household crowding behind me. In the distance, little points of light were flickering and moving through the South Meadow, and outlined against them I could just make out three shadowy figures approaching from the gate, one riding and the other two walking on either side of the horse. The one on the horse was drooping awkwardly in the saddle, and seemed to have his left arm tied up in some sort of scarf; but his voice as he called up the lane to us through the darkness had a ring in it which I had not heard for months.

"We won, and don't worry, nobody's really hurt," he said. "Charles and Tarrington here weren't even scratched; and the doctor says I've only cracked my collarbone — he'll be up to set it as soon as he's tended to Lyons and Dykinck. There ought to be a law passed to keep me from chasing Peaceable Sherwood across slippery rocks in my riding b — "

He broke off with a sharp gasp of pain as he came down from the horse, and I went dashing into the house again and up the stairs for hartshorn and bandages. By the time I got back, Dick was lying on the bed in his own room, Martha was weeping noisily again in Sergeant Tarrington's arms, my father was pouring out sherry for everybody, and Lieutenant Featherstone was perched on the window seat devouring an enormous slice of currant cake and answering questions between mouthfuls.

"It was a nice little stream, too, just the place for trout when Dick and his confounded rangers aren't roiling up the water with their great thundering feet," he was complaining as I came through the door. "There was nobody at the ruins yet when we rode up, and I could easily have had a cast or two into the old mill pond before they came; but Dick made us all climb the hill and lie close behind the trees and rocks to take them by surprise while they were busy with the General. They went to cover in the mill, of course, just as he thought they would — came stealing up through the bushes by twos and threes, all in their masks and cloaks, like brigands in a romance, while we sat watching and having bets which one was Peaceable Sherwood. There must have been seventy of them at least."

"Was he there? Did you see him?" my father interrupted.

"I didn't myself, not at the time, but Dick said he could tell without even thinking twice about it — something about the way he stood and leaned against the old mill-wheel while he was waiting for the rest to come up. They all hid in the ruins when they heard the General's party on the road, and then went boiling out like hornets the minute it came around the bend into the ford. The next thing I knew we were tearing down the hill after them, and everybody was fighting like mad in the middle of the water. You never heard such a commotion: the poor trout will never be the same again. It was mostly all fists and rocks and every man for himself, if you see what I mean — not very much firing on either side because it was so hard to aim without hitting your own men in the tangle. The outlaws were almost two to one, of course, but our first big charge down the hill had taken them off their feet, and they were beginning to lose their heads. Peaceable Sherwood might have rallied them if he'd had the chance, but old heroic Dick there had gone straight after him over the bank, and was hanging on like death itself when his boot slipped and they both came down with the most awful crash over the rocks. Then about fifteen of his own men went rushing up — they must think very highly of him — and contrived somehow to throw his body over a loose horse and make clean away with it in all the confusion. But they were just the mountain people — his own particular private guard, so to speak. We got every one of the others, I'm thankful to say. They started to surrender in droves as soon as they lost him."

"You mean Peaceable's
dead?"
I asked, hardly able to believe my ears.

"Oh, no — there wasn't enough of a fall. My guess is it only knocked him out," murmured Dick from the bed. "You can't kill that man, except maybe with a silver bullet, as old Sergeant Lee would say. But I think the situation's in hand now. Even if he gets away, he won't be able to do very much damage without his secret Tories to help and supply him. Now they're gone, the whole organization ought to be pretty well finished."

"What did you do with them?"

"They're on their way to Goshen now, in charge of about twenty rangers and General Washington, himself, no less," replied Lieutenant Featherstone airily. "He said he owed it to Dick, and I was to see him home to his bed the instant he was fit to move. We limped in with the rest of the wounded. Nobody else will be back till the Lord knows when."

"How many others were hurt?"

"None seriously. It all happened too fast and there wasn't enough firing. Lyons has a nasty flesh wound through one arm — some of those mountain men must have been carrying knives — and a big outlaw smashed Dykinck over the head with a sharp rock. The others came out of it with nothing more serious than cuts and bruises, which was something of a miracle, considering how heavily we were outnumbered. General Washington wanted to know where Colonel Van Spurter and his fifty men were." Lieutenant Featherstone smiled happily, as if savoring some pleasant memory. "He seemed very much annoyed with Colonel Van Spurter, and said that he was going to deal with him in the morning. I only hope I'm somewhere about when he hears the news. I wonder where he is now? And what's become of that confounded doctor? I thought I heard his sweet, gentle voice outside the door five minutes ago."

The door opened halfway with a jerk, and the doctor said over his shoulder: "Well, stop scratching then!" as he flounced into the room. He was a wizened, peppery little man who seemed to live in a state of continual irritation. He slammed the door with another exasperated jerk and darted at Dick like a dragonfly.

"Didn't I tell you not to go falling on that shoulder again the last time I patched you up?" he demanded peevishly. "What do you think your bones are made of, anyway — granite? And who's that other tom fool you've got out there in the hall? Worst case of poison ivy I ever saw. Must have spent hours crouching in a nest of it. Said he was watching for outlaws or something and didn't notice. Notice! As if anyone but a born idiot couldn't see it grows all over Bald Rock!"