The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 20 November 1913, Page 5

The Storyteller

A MAID OF THE REVOLUTION During the Revolutionary War there was a long, narrow strip of .land known as the 'Neutral Ground,' in which the homes of the dwellers were supposed to be secure from the attack of both patriots and Tories. Within the bounds of this neutral ground, in a cosy little cottage, lived Mrs. Moreland and her pretty dark-eyed daughter, Priscilla, a lass of fifteen years. Captain Moreland, the husband and the father, a brave patriot soldier, had lost his- life in one of the first battles for freedom, after the opening of hostilities between the colonists and England, and because she had not the means to seek a less exposed place for herself and daughter, the widowed mother remained in the little, lonely -country home, to which years before her bereavement she had been brought a happy bride. Though loyal to the heart's core, Mrs. Moreland was a timid little woman, afraid of even the sound of a gun, and in every way possible tried to avoid controversies with, her neighbors. But Priscilla was her father's own daughter, brave, strong, self-reliant, and not afraid to speak her mind, or to take down her father's gun in defence of her home, if necessary. , 'Do be careful, daughter,' her mother often cautioned, when Priscilla was 'too free' with her tongue. ' We're alone in the world, my dear, and

since we can’t carry a gun or become soldiers in behalf of our sentiments, it is wiser to keep them to ourselves.’

But Priscilla would not be gagged by the best Tory alive and, despite her mother’s warning, she often got the. best in arguments with the Tory neighbors, thus earning their ill-will. It was on New Year’s night, 1778, when the wind blew cold across the snow-clad fields and woodlands and a starless sky stretched wide overhead, that, a loud knocking at the widow’s front door blanched her face and caused Priscilla to glance instinctively towards her father’s trusty gun, which always lay on its high-up pegs on the kitchen wall. ‘Who’s there ?’ the girl asked, venturing in the front room, at the door of which the knocking continued to grow louder and more determined.

Friends,’ was the reply. ‘Soldier-friends, half famished, not. having tasted food for four and twenty hours. Open, and for the love of heaven give us something to eat, something, anything. Even bread and water would be gratefully received.’ At this appeal Priscilla drew back the heavy bolt, admitting six stalwart men in the guise of patriot soldiers.

‘Do we find our good friend, Colonel Robinson, here, lassie asked the leader.

‘No, he is not here,’ replied Priscilla, demurely. ‘ Have you seen him lately, my little maid ?’ the interrogator continued, a hint of anxietv in his voice. Priscilla was about to say that he had been there that morning, but at this moment she chanced to catch a glimpse of the man’s scarlet uniform under the long coat he wore, and, her ready wit coming to her aid, she answered : ‘ Indeed, sir, I cannot tell you when I last saw him ; you know he is away in the army now.’ Her mother, hearing what she said, was about to correct the statement, when a warning look from. Prissy’s black eyes made her change the information trembling on her lips to,-‘What may we do for you, gentlemen ‘ Just, give us a bite to eat, ma’am, the best in the house, please, and we will pay . you well for your trouble,’ returned the spokesman glibly. ‘And be quick about it, too,’ he added gruffly. ‘We have a long journey before us, and the night is dark and wild.’ Then while Priscilla assisted her mother to prepare the meal demanded, the men drew close together around the brightly burning wood fire and talked of the New Year’s coming in by the storm that day, and told wild weird stories of uncanny happenings on holidays in the past, before the war with its horrors and hardships had made life too real to be frittered away with imaginary ghosts and delusions. Presently, while surrounding the table loaded with the delicacies they had ordered, the men’s voices dropped to low, almost inaudible words, but muffled as they were, Priscilla’s sharp ears caught enough of their disconnected conversation to learn that the object of theirraid was to capture Colonel Robinson, her father’s old commander, and the trusted friend of the family in the dark and trying times since the dear one's death. Colonel Robinson was an influential man in the community, and, because of his power in the colonies, the British Government had set a price on his head.

Priscilla knew this, and she also knew that the brave old soldier was at home on a brief visit, to spend the New Year’s holiday with his family, and while she waited upon his would-be captors so patiently, she was trying to invent some means of communicating the news to him before the arrival of his enemies.

While she was puzzling her brain for a solution of the knotty problem, there came another pounding at the door, and half a dozen more soldiers were admitted. While arranging places at the table for the newcomers, Priscilla learned that they had succeeded in obtaining fresh horses for the final dash, and that one of them, the fleetest of the lot, was hitched at the gate-post, all saddled and bridled, ready for the use of Colonel Fry, who was in charge of the troops. A bright thought flashed into Priscilla’s brain, but she said nothing, except a few whispered words in her mother’s ears, but

a little later she slipped out of the back door, and, tip-toeing around to, the gate-post, mounted the flyer and . had just walked him into the shadows when she heard footsteps approaching. Drawing rein, she waited in ■ breathless silence until two men' passed. They were talking very low and in broken sentences, about one man Captain Call —a suspected patriot, and three words, ‘ powder, quarry, cave,' that reached her ears, gave her a key to the situation, and when the name of ‘ Colonel Robinson ’ and 1 prison ’ were added to the list, she guessed at the truth. Captain Call had proved himself a traitor to the patriots’ cause by revealing the secret of the new hiding-place of the powder, guns, etc., and there was to be a raid on the cave that night, and, after the removal of the powder to a waggon in waiting, the dear old colonel was to be left a prisoner in the dark cavern, there to perish, unless even a worse fate awaited him at the hands of inhuman troops. . : VI must outwit them some way, and save the colonel,’ Prissy told herself, under her breath, as she walked her fleet-footed animal out into the open. But when the lane was reached, she gave him rein, and the next moment she was off like the wind on her errand of mercy.

Five minutes later, when the men rushed out to mount their fresh horses, the racer was gone , and, thinking he had broken loose, they lost several minutes more scouring the wood-pasture in search of him. Then, as the far-away sound of a horse’s hoofs echoed back from the hill beyond, they began to suspect treachery, and springing into their saddles, galloped away at breakneck speed. Though they rode furiously, Priscilla kept well in advance, and not until three —half the distance to the colonel’s home—had been passed, did she catch a glimpse of the riders, the gallop of the horses had been sounding in her ears ever since they left her mother’s gate. Then it was that from the opposite hill came shouts of ‘Halt! halt! or we’ll shoot,’ repeated over and over from out the utter darkness beyond. ; Priscilla glanced back just once, catching a glimpse of the horsemen in the bright light of the volley from their guns. She kept her nerve, however, though she did not risk another look behind, but she rode on and on, her long black hair streaming out in the wind, while the hills around and above her seemed to reverberate with cries of ‘ halt,’ and the whistling of bullets. When within a quarter of a mile of her destination, her horse tripped and fell, spraining Priscilla’s arm badly, but with her other arm around the horse’s neck, she kept her seat until, reaching the colonel’s gate, she dismounted and, rushing into the house, quickly related her story and urged the brave man to lose no time in making his escape. ‘But the powder!’ exclaimed the colonel. ‘The powder must be saved at all hazards. If it is carried away or destroyed, the militia will have no means of defending themselves when attacked by the Tories.’ ‘ But what can you do alone and single-handed, father V entreated his wife. ‘ Fly, oh, do fly, while there is a chance to save your life!’ ‘True, Rachel, I am helpless,’ returned the old soldier, sadly. If-1 had only known sooner—but now it is too late, too late. That traitor has posted them and no doubt will be in readiness to lead them to the door of the cave, and, alone, I can do nothing.’ \ Couldn’t we shut them in—you and I?’ whispered Priscilla. .

‘Enough said!’ the colonel exclaimed under his breath. Then he whistled softly, after which he called Abner, the farm-hand, and said quietly: ‘ Bring Bob and come to the old cabin near the cave at once.’ Then on his swift pacer he started after them, with Priscilla riding lightly by his side. Arriving at the cabin, by the light of his lantern the colonel scribbled a note to General Dix, in charge of the patriot troops at Newfield post, and, putting Bob on his own fleet-footed horse, hurried him off to deliver it.

The Tories, failing to find either Hire colonel or the missing horse at the Robinson home, V threatening vengeance both on him and Priscilla,

‘ We’ll- take up the trail of the fugitives after the powder is safe,’ said Colonel Fry, as they passed the cabin on the trot, ready to meet th'eir ‘ tool prompt to the minute. The next moment the traitor led the way into the cave, followed by a score of redcoats, and then the big iron door, once a safeguard against Indian foes, dropped with a bang into place, its strong springlock snapped and the raiders were prisoners, occupying the identical place they had intended for Colonel Robinson. Leaving Abner and big Jim on guard, the colonel took Priscilla back to the care of his good wife, where, after dressing the girl’s badly swollen arm, the bighearted woman put her to bed, with instructions to shut her eyes and go right off to sleep, like a baby.’ Several hours later, after General Dix, in charge of the captives, had started on the march to Newfield, the colonel came back home, chuckling over the success of the plot. ‘Priscilla’s plot,’ he insisted. ‘For, if the child hadn’t suggested the trick, this old head would never have figured out such a neat trap, nor how to spring it.’ In fact, you owe your life to the brave lassie,’ insisted the colonel’s wife. 1 Just think of a child of fifteen riding six long miles in the face of such a storm as was raging last night for no other reason than to save your life.’

‘I think that was reason enough for a hundred such rides, had they been necessary,’ argued Priscilla. Just think what a friend he has been to both mother and me since- father left us.’

‘ Well, you have certainly given me back “good ■pleasure, pressed down and running over,” my Priscilla,’ returned the colonel softly,” ‘ and everybody, even Colonel Fry, is singing your praise to-day.’ ‘For simply doing my duty!’ exclaimed Priscilla. ‘ That is all nonsense, but if I have been of any real service to the patriot cause I am thankful for it, and count this the best and happiest New Year of my life.— Youths’ Magazine.