[Illustration: _Frontispiece--"'I CAN SEE NO ONE BUT THE GENERAL, 'JANIE SAID. "

_See page 133. _]

Then Marched the Brave

By

Harriet T. Comstock

Author of "When the British Came, " "Molly, the Drummer Boy, " etc. 

_Illustrations by Anna S. Hicks_

PHILADELPHIAHENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

MOLLY, THE DRUMMER BOY

WHEN THE BRITISH CAME

Fifty cents each

Copyright, 1904, by Henry Altemus

CONTENTS

CHAPTER IANDY McNEAL

CHAPTER IIA STRANGER IN THE NIGHT

CHAPTER IIITHE CROWNING OF ANDY McNEAL

CHAPTER IVTHROUGH THE CAVE

CHAPTER VA SUSPICION

CHAPTER VITHEN MARCHED THE BRAVE

CHAPTER VIIANDY HEARS A STRANGE TALK

CHAPTER VIIIAT HEADQUARTERS

CHAPTER IXPEACE

ILLUSTRATIONS

"'I can see no one but the General, ' Janie said""Andy was at the oars now""'Good day, my pretty lass!'""Burr ventured a question""It took all of Andy's courage to don the female attire"

THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE

CHAPTER I

ANDY McNEAL

It was in the time when the king's men had things pretty much their ownway, and mystery and plot held full sway, that there lived, in a littlehouse near McGown Pass on the upper end of Manhattan Island, a widow andher lame son. She was a tall, gaunt woman of Scotch ancestry, but loyalto the land that had given her a second home. She was not a woman ofmany opinions, but the few that she held were rigid, and not to betrifled with. With all her might she hated the king, and with equalintensity loved the cause of freedom. In the depths of her nature therewas a great feeling of shame and disappointment that her only son was ahopeless cripple, and so could not be offered as a living sacrifice tothe new cause. 

Janie McNeal held it against the good God that she, His faithfulservant, must be denied the glorious opportunity of giving her best andall, as other mothers were doing, that the land of the free might bewrested from cruel tyranny. 

To be sure, Andy was but sixteen. That mattered little to Janie; youngas he was, she could have held him in readiness, as did Hannah of old, until the time claimed him--but his lameness made it impossible. Amongall the deeds of courage, he must stand forever apart!

Poor Janie could not conceive of a bravery beyond physical strength. Inher disappointment she looked upon pale Andy, and she saw--she hated toacknowledge it--but she saw only cowardice written upon every line ofthe shrinking features! The patient blue eyes avoided her pityingglance. The sensitive mouth twitched as the boy listened to heroft-repeated laments. Janie had never seen those eyes grow steely andkeen; she had never seen the lips draw into firm lines, or the slim formstiffen as the boy listened to the doings of the king's soldiers. Whenthe neighbors came with thrilling tales of daring done by some lovedone, Janie made some excuse for sending the boy upon an errand or tobed; the contrast was too bitter. 

And Andy, sensitive and keen from suffering, saw through it all andshrank, not from fear or cowardice, but unselfish love, away from thestir and excitement and his mother's sigh of humiliation. He lived hislife much alone; misunderstood, but silently brave. His chance wouldcome. Andy never once doubted that, and the chance would find him ready. 

And so he waited while the summer of 1776 waxed hotter and hotter, andthe king's men, drunken with success after the battle of Long Island, pressed their advantage and impudence further, as they waited to seewhat the "old fox, " meaning Washington, meant to do next. What hisintentions were, no one, not even his own men, seemed to know; he keptthem and himself well out of sight, and the anxious people watched andwondered and grew restless under the strain. 

Now upon a certain July night Janie McNeal and Andy were sitting attheir humble meal. The door of the cottage stood open, and the song ofevening birds made tender the quiet scene. Suddenly hurried, yetstealthy, steps startled them. Was it friend or foe?

"'Tis from a secret path, mother, " whispered Andy, catching his crutch. He knew the way the king's men came and went, and he knew the pathshidden to all but those who dwelt among them. His trained ear was neverdeceived. 

"'Tis a neighbor, " he murmured; "he comes down the stream bed. "

Sure enough, a moment later Parson White's wife ran in. Her face washaggard, and her hands outstretched imploringly. With keen appreciationof what might be coming, Janie McNeal put her in a chair, and stoodguard over her like a gaunt sentinel. 

"To bed, Andy, child, " she commanded; "'tis late and you are pale. Tobed!"

Andy took the crutch, and, without a word, limped to the tiny room inthe loft above. Boy-like, he was consumed with curiosity. He knew thatthe speakers, unless they whispered, could be overheard, so he lay downupon his hard bed and listened. And poor Margaret White did not whisper. Once alone with her friend, she poured out her agony and horror. 

"My Sam, " she moaned, "he is dead!"

Janie and the listener above started. For three years Sam White, theerring son of the good parson, had been a wanderer from his father'shome. How, then, had he died, and where? The news was startling, indeed. 

"Margaret, tell me all!" The firm voice calmed the grief-strickenmother. 

"He was coming home to get our blessing. He heard his country's call, when his ears were deaf to all others, and it aroused his better nature. He would not join the ranks until he had our blessing and forgiveness. Poor lad! he was coming down the pass last night, not knowing that itwas sentineled by the enemy. He did not answer to the command to halt, and they shot him! Shot him like a dog, giving him no time forexplanation or prayer. Oh! my boy! my boy!"

Never while he lived would Andy forget that tone of bitter agony. 

"He's dead! My boy for whom I have watched and waited. Dead! ere hecould offer his brave young life on his country's altar. Oh! woe is me, woe is me!"

For a moment there was silence, then Janie's voice rang out so that Andycould hear every word. 

"As God hears me, Margaret, I would gladly give my ain useless lad, ifby so doing, yours might be reclaimed from death. Your sorrow is one forwhich there is no comfort. To have a son to give; to have him snatchedaway before the country claimed him! Aye, woman, your load is, indeed, aheavy one. To think of Andy alive, and your strong man-child lying dead!The ways of God are beyond finding out. It grieves me sore, Margaret, that it does. It seems a useless sacrifice, God forgive me for sayingit!"

The women were sobbing together. In the room above, Andy hid his headunder the pillow to shut out the sound. Never, in all his lonely life, had he suffered so keenly. Love, pride, hope, went down before the hardwords. In that time of great deeds, when the brave were marching on tovictory or death, he, poor useless cripple, was a disgrace to the motherwhom he loved. 

Where could he turn for comfort? He limped to the window, to cool hisfevered face. He leaned on the sill and looked up at the stars. Theyseemed unfriendly now, and yet he and they had kept many a vigil, andthey had always seemed like comrades in the past. Poor Andy could notpray; he needed the touch of human sympathy. 

All at once he started. There was one, just one who would understand. But how could he reach her? The women in the room below barred his exitthat way. A heavy vine clambered over the house, and its sturdy branchesswayed under Andy's window. No one would miss him, and to climb down thevine was an easy task even for a lame boy. 

Cautiously he began the descent, and in a few minutes was on the ground. He had managed to carry his crutch under his arm, and now, panting, buttriumphant, he went quickly on. A new courage was rising within him--acourage that often comes with despair and indifference to consequences. No matter what happened, he would seek his only friend. 

He took to the stream bed. It was quite dry, and the bushes grew close. No prowling Britisher would be likely to challenge him there. Ah! ifpoor Sam White had been as wise. Andy's face grew paler as heremembered. For a half-mile he pattered on, then the moon, rising clearand silvery, showed a little house near by the stream bed and almosthidden by vines. 

Everything about the house was dark and still. Andy paused and wonderedif he had a right to disturb even his one true friend. Noiselessly, hedrew near, and went around to the back of the house. Something startledhim. 

"Mother!" It was a young, sweet voice, and it came from the shadow ofthe little porch. 

"'Tis I, Ruth!" faltered Andy. 

"You, Andy! And why! Have you heard about our Sam!" The girl came outinto the moonshine. She was tall and strong, and her face was verypretty. 

"Yes; I've heard, Ruth;" then, coming close, Andy poured out his miseryto the girl who had been his lifelong friend and comrade. 

She listened silently, once raising her finger and pointing toward thehouse as if to warn him against arousing the others. When he hadfinished there was silence. It was not Ruth's way to plunge into reply. 

"Come, " she whispered presently, "I am going to tell the bees. HansBrickman told me to-night that 'tis no fancy, but a true thing, that thebees will leave a hive if death come unless they are told by a member ofthe family. The bee-folk are overwise, I know, and I mean to take nochances of their leaving. With the British at hand, honey is not to bedespised. Come. "

Andy followed, wondering, but biding Ruth's time. She was a strange girlin all her ways. 

Without speaking, the two went through the little garden and pausedbefore the row of neat hives. Then Ruth bent before the first. 

"Sam's dead!" she whispered, "but do not fear. We need you, so do notleave the hive. " From hive to hive she went, quite seriously repeatingthe sentence in soft murmurings. Andy stood and looked, the moonlightshowing him pale and intent. At last the deed was done, and Ruth cameback to him and laid her firm, brown hand upon his shoulder. She was atrifle taller than he, so she bent to speak. 

"Not even your mother knows you as I do, Andy, " she said. "She thinks alame leg can cripple a brave soul; but it cannot! Why, even being a girlcould not keep me back if I saw my chance, and I tell you, Andy, yourlameness may serve you well. I have been thinking of that. I do notbelieve God ever wastes anything. He can use lame boys and--even girls. Sam was not wasted. The call made him brave and good. He was coming homea new creature just because he had heard. When I saw him lying dead, shot by those lurking cowards, something grew in me here, "--she touchedher breast. "I have not shed one tear, but I loved him as well as theothers. Somehow I knew that since he had been called, it was because hehad a work to do, and since he is gone I mean to be ready to do hiswork. Andy, I am as strong as a boy, but--" here her eyes sought his--"Iam a girl for all that, but you and I together, Andy, can do Sam'swork!" The young voice shook with excitement. 

"I, Ruth? Ah! do not shame me. " Andy's eyes fell before the shiningface. 

"Shame you, Andy? I shame you--I who have loved you next best to Sam!Come. Father has gone to bed, there will be time before mother returns. I want you to see Sam. "

With bated breath the two entered the living-room of the cottage. Theplace had been made sacred to the young hero who was so early called tohis rest. Flowers everywhere, and among them Sam lay smiling placidly athis easily won laurels. 

For the first time Andy gazed upon the face of death. The gentle dignityand peace of the once wild boy awed and thrilled the onlooker. He wasdressed in his Continental uniform that was unsoiled by battle's breath, albeit, an ugly hole in the breast showed where the gallant blood hadflowed forth. 

"It's--it's wonderful!" gasped Andy. 

"But we're not going to let him be wasted, are we Andy?" There was acruel break in the girl's voice. "We'll do his work, won't we? We'llshow the Britishers how we can repay, won't we, Andy?"

"Yes, " breathed the boy, unable to turn his eyes from the noble, boyishface, that was lighted by the gleam of the one lamp; "we'll show them!"

"See, Andy" (Ruth had gone to a corner cup-board and brought forth athree-cornered cap), "this is Sam's; I found it in the bushes. Mothersays I may have it. " She placed it upon Andy's head. "It just fits!" sheexclaimed. "If the time comes, Andy, you shall wear the cap. It will beproof that I trust you. You will help if you can, won't you? Promise"Andy. "

"I promise, as God hears me, Ruth. "

In the stillness the vow sounded awesome. The two clasped hands. Allthe sting was gone. A great resolve to be ready to dare and die madeAndy strong and happy. 

"Good-by, Ruth. "

"Good-by, Andy, lad. "

Out into the still night the boy passed. On the way back he saw Mrs. White, but he hid beneath a bush until she had gone by. He reached home, found the door barred, and so painfully reached his room by the aid ofthe friendly vine. 

CHAPTER II

A STRANGER IN THE NIGHT

That was to be a night of experiences--the beginning, the real beginningof Andy's life; all the rest had been preparation. After reaching hisroom, he flung himself wearily upon the bed. How long he slept he couldnot know, but he was suddenly aroused by a sharp knock on the outer doorbelow stairs. He sat up and listened. All was still except the tricklingof a near-by waterfall, which had outlived the dry weather. 

For a moment Andy thought the knock was but part of a troubled dream; hewaited a moment, then, to make sure, limped over to the stairway andpeered down into the room below. A candle stood on the pine table, and, at a chair near-by, knelt Janie McNeal, bowed in prayer. She had heardthe knock, but not until the lonely prayer was finished would she rise. That was Janie's way. 

A second knock, louder than the first, sounded, and with it the woman'ssolemn "Amen. "

"Be not so hasty, stranger, " she muttered, as she withdrew the bar;"learn to wait for your betters. "

The door swung back, and into the dim light of the bare room stepped atall man in Continental dress. His hat was in his hand, and he bowedbefore Janie as if she were a queen. Andy drew back. No such strangerhad ever visited them before, and the boy gazed fascinated. 

"Pardon me, my good woman, " the rich voice said; "much as I dislikedisturbing you, I fear I must crave a few hours' rest and lodging, andthe service of one to row me across the river ere break of day. I havebeen told that you have a son. "

Andy quivered. 

"A lodging, sir, is yours and welcome, " Janie replied, motioning thestranger toward a chair and closing the door after him. "I ever keep abed in readiness these troubled times. We are loyal to the cause, and Iwould serve where I may. I have a son, sir, as you have heard, but, alas! not one who can be of service. He is a cripple. However, rest; youlook sadly in need of it. I will hasten to a neighbor's a mile away, andseek the service you desire. "

"I regret to cause such trouble, but the need is urgent. I sympathizewith you in your son's affliction. It must be a sore grief to the lad tosit apart these stirring times when young blood runs hot, and thecountry calls so loudly. "

Soon Janie was setting food before the stranger--good brown bread andcreamy milk. Andy saw the look of suffering on her face as she bustledabout, and he understood. He crept back to bed heavy-hearted. Ruth waswrong; there was nothing for him to do. 

The hot hours dragged on. Toward morning Andy grew restless, and quietlyarose and dressed. The feeling of bravery awakened within him, and a dimthought grew and assumed shape in his brain. He could row strong andwell. Few knew of his accomplishment, for his life was lonely and theexercise and practice had been one of his few diversions. 

He knew a secret path among the rocks, which led to the river, and atthe end of the path was moored his tiny boat, the rough work of hispatient hands. Only Ruth knew of his treasure; often he and she hadglided away from the hamlet to think their thoughts, or dream theiryoung dreams. 

Now, if he could arouse the stranger before his mother had summonedanother to do the service, he might share the joy of helping, in a smallway, the great cause. 

"The need is urgent, " smiled the boy; "in that case a lame fellow mightnot be despised. "

He recalled the stranger's face, and his courage grew. 

"Chances are so few!" he muttered; "I must take this one. "

At the first rustling of the birds in the trees, Andy crept down-stairs. His mother's room and the guest-room both opened from the living-room, but Janie's door was closed, while the stranger's was ajar. Through itcame the sound of low-spoken words. 

"Accept the thanks of thy servant for all bountiful mercies of the past. Guide his future steps. Bless our enemies, and make them just. Amen. "

The boy bowed his head, instinctively. Surely he had nothing to fearfrom such a man. He went nearer and tapped lightly on the door. Light aswas the touch, the stranger started. 

"Come!" There was a welcome in the word. Andy stepped cautiously inside. 

"Good-morning, sir. "

"The same to you, my lad. " The keen eyes softened as they fell upon therude crutch. "How can I serve you!"

"Sir, I have come to offer my services to you. I heard you tell mymother that you needed some one to row you across the river. I am a goodrower. "

The man looked puzzled. "You are the widow's son? Is not the task toogreat?"

"My lameness does not hinder much. I use the crutch mainly to hasten mysteps; I can walk without it. I am very strong in other ways. I think Iam just beginning to find out how strong I am, myself. None know thewoods better than I. I can take you by a short cut to the river, and Ihave my own boat moored and ready. It will be a small matter to reachthe opposite shore by sunrise if we start at once. " Andy was pantingwith excitement. "Pray, sir, let me do this; there are so few chancesfor such as I. "

The listener smiled kindly. 

"You are just the guide I need, " he said, and Andy knew there was noflattery in the words. "I must leave it for you to thank your goodmother for her hospitality. I have been ready for an hour. Lead on, myboy!"

Silently they stole from the house. The birds twittered as they passed, for the tall man touched the lower boughs and disturbed the nestlings. 

"Bend low, " whispered Andy, "the way leads through small spaces. "

On they went, sometimes creeping under the hanging rocks, alwaysclinging to the shelter of trees and bushes. They both knew the dangerthat might lie near in the form of a British sentinel. 

"The path seems untrodden by foot of man, " murmured the stranger, pausing to draw in a long breath. "You are a wonderful guide. "

"I think no one else knows the way, " Andy whispered, proudly; "an Indianshowed it to me when I was a child. He was my good friend, he taught mealso to row, and shoot with both arrow and gun. He said I should knowIndian tricks because of my lameness. They might help where strengthfailed. He showed me how to creep noiselessly and find paths. I havetrails all over the woods. There is one that leads right among theBritishers; and they never know. I do this for sport. "

The stranger looked sharply at the gliding form ahead. 

"Paths such as this all over the woods?" he repeated. "And have you keptthis--this sport secret?"

"That I have!" laughed Andy. "I tell you now because you are upon yourcountry's service. I trust you, and I thought perhaps it might helpsometime. " The two moved forward for a moment in silence, then Andylaughed in a half-confused way. 

"A boy gets lonely at times, " he said; "he must do something to whileaway the--the years. I have practiced and made believe until I am apretty good Indian. I make believe that I am guiding the greatWashington. They do say he ever remembers a favor. I should love toserve him. Had I been like other boys--" the voice broke--"I would havebeen as near him as possible by this time!"

The hand of the stranger was upon the youth's shoulder. Andy turned inalarm. 

"You have a secret which may save your country much!" breathed the deepvoice; "guard it with your life. But if one comes from Washingtonseeking your aid, do whatever he asks, fearlessly. "

"How would I know such an one?" gasped Andy. 

"That will I tell you later. " Again the forward tramp. 

"And you have passed, unnoticed, the British line! 'Tis a joke almostbeyond belief!" chuckled the stranger. "I should like to see my LordHowe's face were he to hear this. "

"Oh! be silent, sir!" cautioned the guide, "we come to an open space. "

Once again beneath the heavy boughs, the boy said:

"I passed the line but yesterday. And I heard that which has troubledme, sorely, yet I could do nothing. But--" here Andy paused and turnedsharply--"bend down. Should you know Washington were you to see him?"

"Aye, lad. " The two heads were pressed close. 

"Would you bear a message, and try to find him?"

"Aye. "

"They are planning an attack. I could not hear when or where, for themen moved past. As they came back, and passed where I was hidden, Iheard them say that they who are near Washington had best be on watch, poison in the food made no such noise as a gun--but it would serve!"

"You heard that?" almost moaned the listener. "My God! could they plansuch a cowardly thing?"

"Aye, sir. I am thinking they can. I would warn the General if I could, but you may be luckier. The men said Lord Howe desired the death ofevery rebel. "

"May heaven forgive him!" The words fell sadly from the strong lips. 

"And now, " again Andy took the lead, "do not speak as we pass here. Itis the spot where they shot our pastor's boy, only two days ago. I fearthe place. A few rods beyond, we will again strike the thicket, and beunder cover until we reach the river. "

The solemn quiet that precedes a hot summer dawn surrounded the man andboy. The red band broadened in the east. The birds, fearing neitherfriend nor foe, began to challenge the stillness with their glad notes, and so guide and follower passed the gruesome place where young SamWhite gave up his untried life a few short days ago. The thicket gained, the two paused for breath. 

"We must not talk in the boat, sir. " They had reached the moored boatnow. "Pray tell me how I am to know our General's messenger. "

"By this. " The stranger detached a charm from a hidden chain and held itin his palm so that the clearer light fell upon it. "I command you tolearn its peculiarities well. There must be no blunder. "

It was very quaint. Andy's keen eye took in every detail. 

"I shall know it, " he sighed. And the stranger smiled and replaced it. "And you, sir?" he faltered, for the hour of parting came with a strangesadness; "may I not know your name? You have made me so proud and happybecause you accepted my poor service. "

"George Washington, and your true friend, Andy McNeal! We are bothserving the same great cause. God keep us both!"

The General clasped the boy's trembling hand, and Andy looked throughdim eyes into the face of his hero. The hero who for months past hadbeen the imaginative comrade of lonely hours and dreamy play. 

[Illustration: "ANDY WAS AT THE OARS NOW. "]

"We shall meet again--comrade!" Washington was smiling and the mistpassed. "Never fear death, lad, if you are doing your duty; it comes butonce. Row swiftly. Day is breaking. A messenger with a horse awaits meon the further shore. Head for Point of Cedars. "

"Good-by, sir; I shall never fear anything again--after this, I think. Good-by!" Andy was at the oars now. He handled them like the master thathe was. The old Indian had taught well, and the apt pupil had beenmaking ready against this day and chance. 

While Andy kept Point of Cedars in view, he saw, also, the noble figurein the stern. The keen eyes kept smiling in kindly fashion, while thefirm lips kept their accustomed silence. To Andy, the future was as rosyas the dawn, and he wondered that he had ever been depressed and afraid. 

"Death comes but once!" kept ringing in his thoughts; "it shall find medoing my duty. God and Washington forever!" The song of the times hadfound a resting-place in Andy McNeal's heart at last. 

Point of Cedars was safely reached. The general stepped upon the pebblybeach. Almost at once, from among the bushes, appeared a young man inragged Continental uniform, leading a large, white horse. 

Without a word Washington mounted, nodded his thanks to the messenger, and a final farewell to Andy, then he, followed by his newer guide, faded from sight among the forest-trees. Standing bareheaded and aloneupon the shore, Andy watched until the last sound of the hoof-beats diedaway, then, with a sigh of hope and memory mingled, he retraced his way. 

Janie McNeal greeted her son at the door-way. "Andy!" she cried, "ourguest is gone!" She quite forgot that Andy, presumably, knew nothing ofthe guest. "He desired a lad to row him across the river. I was going toneighbor Jones's at early dawn to summon James. I should have gone lastnight, but I was sore tired. When I arose this morning, the stranger wasgone. God forgive me!

"The poor gentleman must have thought me a heedless body. I trust hewill not think me in league with the Britishers; there is much of thatsort of thing going on. " Janie shook her head dolefully, not heedingAndy's smile. 

"How do we know, " she went on, "but that the gentleman was on the greatWashington's business? He was an overgrand body himself, and hadexcellent manners. "

"Mother!" the old hesitating tone crept back unconsciously into Andy'svoice as he faced his mother; "mother, I rowed the stranger across theriver, he is--safely landed. It--was--it--was--Washington himself!"

"Andy!" Janie flung up her hands, and nearly fell from the step; "think, lad, of your words. You look and talk clean daft. "

"It--was--Washington!" The boy drew the words out with a deliciousmemory. 

"And--you--rowed--him--across! You--my--poor--lame lad! God have mercyupon me, and forgive me for my doubts!"

"I can help a little, mother. " Andy drew near the quivering figure. "Iknow, mother, and I do not wonder, but there is a place for every onein these days, and I'm going to be ready. "

Janie drew herself up, and put a trembling hand on the young shoulder. "Son!" she said, with a sudden but intense pride, "son, get ready, we goto Sam White's burying, you and I. God be praised! blind as I was, Hehas opened my eyes to see my son at last!" This was a great deal forJanie McNeal to say, but it did its work. 

CHAPTER III

THE CROWNING OF ANDY MCNEAL

Sam White's burial was a very simple affair. In that time of need andanxiety men were off upon their country's business. Few could stay tomourn. The pastor himself read the simple service in a voice of pride, broken by a father's grief. He said that God would not let the sacrificepass unheeded. Since Sam had heard the call, and then had been sosuddenly taken away, another would be raised up to do his work; anotherwho, through Sam, might be touched more than in any other way. 

Andy, standing in the little group about the open grave, at this raisedhis eyes, and he found Ruth's wide, tearless gaze fixed upon him. Andysmiled bravely back at her, for his heart was strong within him. 

After it was over and the few neighbors gone, Andy and Ruth remained toscatter flowers upon the young hero's bed, and cover up the bareness ofthe place. 

"Ruth, " said Andy in a whisper, "I think my chance has come!"

"Your chance, Andy?"

"Aye. I have been thinking that Sam's being taken has aroused me, andgiven me courage, just as your father said, and--and last night thechance began!" Then he told her of much that had occurred. Ruth kneltamong the flowers, her young face glowing. 

"Oh! I shall have some one to watch, " she panted, "some one to helpwhile he works. Oh! Andy, you do not know how I long to help, and bepart of this great time. I go on long walks, and I hear and see so much. Down on the Bowery I heard a group say the other day that GeneralWashington was going to burn the town and order the people to flee. Oneman said, did he order such a thing, he, for one, would go over to theBritish; and, Andy, there was a great shout from the other men! I feltmy heart burn, for did our General order _me_ to go, then would I gowhither and where he ordered; nor would I question, so great is my trustin him. And did he burn all, even my home, yet would I gladly obey, forI would _know_ he was doing wisely. So greatly do I honor him that Ithink, next to God, I trust our General!"

The young face glowed and quivered, and Andy, with the spirit ofhero-worship growing upon his recent experiences, panted in excitementas she spoke. 

"I, too, would follow, and never question, " he said. "Never fear, Ruth;what the General expects of me, that will I do. Not even death do Ifear--it comes but once!" The boyish voice rang clear. 

Suddenly, Ruth started toward the house. "Wait, " she said, "I havesomething for you. " She was back in a moment, bearing Sam's cap. "Thetime has come, " she faltered, and there were tears in her eyes. "I--Iwant to crown you, Andy McNeal. " She removed Andy's rough cap andreplaced it with Sam's. 

"I'll keep the old one, " she said, "and--and if you should fail to dobravely, you can have your own!" Then she dashed away the tears. "Forgive me, Andy McNeal!" she sobbed; "you will never fail. There ishero blood in your body, I know, and it may be that your lameness willaid you in accomplishing tasks that a lusty lad could never attempt. "

Andy raised his head proudly and the new crown set not badly on hisboyish curls. 

"I must go, " he breathed. "I will come every day unless--you know, Ruth?"

The girl nodded, and so they parted silently, Ruth pressing the old hatto her aching heart, and taking up the woman's part in those troublingtimes; the part of the watching, waiting one. 

The days following became filled with one longing for Andy. The longingfor Washington's messenger. Unless he came soon, the boy feared that hewould be too late. During his own recent explorations beyond the lines, he heard much that warned him that the British were planning somethingof grave importance. 

Andy had told his mother and Ruth nothing of Washington's anticipatedmessenger. They knew merely that Andy had ferried the great Generalacross the river--was that not enough? Had they known for what the boywas eagerly watching, they could not have done their own daily tasks. 

"He has an eager, watchful air, " Janie confided to Ruth. "I am thinkingthe lad expects the General to pass this way again. Lightning and _such_happenings do not strike twice in the same spot. "

Ruth smiled gently. "I do not think Andy walks as lame as he did, " shemused, watching the boy disappearing down a woody path. 

"He is always on the go, " Janie broke in. "He practices walking withouthis crutch more than I think wise; but one can do little with men-folk!"Janie tossed her head proudly. Andy was a growing delight to her. 

"It may do him good, " Ruth added; "he looks stronger and--and gladder. "

"He has gone beyond me, " the mother sighed. "I--I begin to know, lass, the happy feeling a mother has when her heart aches with lonelinessand--and pride! What ails you, lass?" For Ruth had started and given ashort cry. 

"Why--why--" laughed the girl, "I am thinking my eyes are playing mefalse. I was watching Andy up the path, and I saw him as clear as I seeyou this minute--and then he was gone!"

"Do not get flighty, Ruth. " Janie came close, however, and peered up thepath. "You and Andy will drive me daft. The path is a straight, cleanone; had Andy been on it, he would still be in sight. I'm thinking heturned before he came to the brook bed. You did not notice, but yourthoughts kept agoing on. "

"Perhaps, " nodded Ruth, but Janie knew she was unconvinced. 

On her way home soon after, Ruth began to ponder. Once clear of Janie'sobservant eye, the girl turned back through the shrubbery, and ran tothe spot where she had last seen Andy. All was as silent as a breathlesssummer day could make it. There was no side-path; no broken bushes. 

"He _was_ here, " breathed the girl, "and he disappeared like a flash!"

Then she knelt down and tried to trace footprints in the mossy earth. "Ah!" she smiled, for there was a crushed space at the edge of a bramblycluster of bushes. She quietly drew aside the branches, and a look ofwonder grew in the bright eyes. So cunningly concealed, that even hernative-bred keenness might never have espied it, lay a path, and amongthe bushes, Andy's crutch! Should she follow? In the old days Ruth wouldnot have paused. But these were not play-days; Andy might be upon gravebusiness. Reverently she drew back, and replaced the disorder she hadcaused among the parted leaves. Suddenly a step startled her. She turnedsharply. Up the path came a British soldier, whistling a gay tune andeyeing her boldly. 

More than once had Ruth encountered these most ungallant gentlemen, andshe was alert at resenting any familiarity, but a fear grew in her heartnow. Andy's path must not be discovered! She must do her part. 

"Good-day, my pretty lass!" The man halted. Under ordinarycircumstances Ruth would have taken to her fleet feet at this, but Andymight return too soon, and emerge while yet the enemy could discoverhim. 

"Berrying?" grinned the fellow; "August is early for berries, is it not?The man was suspicious, perhaps, and Ruth was on guard. 

"For some kinds, " she answered, lightly. 

"What kind are you hunting?"

"One that you British do not know, " she replied; "it's a kind that growsonly in America and thrives upon freedom. "

The soldier leered unpleasantly. "Come, I will help you hunt, " he cried;"if we find a berry I cannot name, you may ask what reward you choose, and if I succeed then will I take a kiss from your red lips, eh, mygirl?"

Ruth darted an angry look upward. If they hunted, the cane would bediscovered, and yet if she refused--well, she must act quickly. 

"Is it a bargain?"

"Yes;" the word came bravely from a trembling courage. 

[Illustration: "'GOOD DAY, MY PRETTY LASS. '"]

The two knelt and began the search. Ruth pressed the bushes so as tocover Andy's cane, but as her keen eyes fell upon the spot where it hadbeen, to her surprise and joy, she saw that it was gone!

A cry broke from her, for, as she realized that that danger was past, she saw, near at hand, a plant so rare even to her woodland eyes, thatit was precious. Thanks to her learned father, she knew its name, andthe spray of waxen berries was her salvation. 

"See!" she cried, "you have brought good luck. 'Tis a rare find. Now Ipray you, sir, name the berry I hold in my hand. "

The man was searching the underbrush, and turned half angrily. "Whathave you?" he snarled. Ruth knew that Andy was near, but no breath washeard. 

"Name the berry, sir, or I claim my advantage!" Ruth stood upright withthe spray in her hand. 

"Wintergreen, " ventured the fellow, wildly. 

"Wrong!" sneered Ruth, "and there is no second trial. "

"How can you prove me wrong?" jeered the man, coming insolently close;"who is to decide?"

"Your head officer, sir, " flashed Ruth; "lead on, I will gladly leave itto him. After he has heard the tale from me--from _me_, mark--I willleave it to him. Perhaps there is one gentleman in the king's troops. Lead on! Why stand staring when your stake is so high!" A dignity andfearlessness came to the angry girl. 

"Do you lead, or shall I?" she asked. 

"I--I beg your pardon!" cringed the fellow, "I will abide by yourdecision. "

"Go, then!" cried Ruth, her temper breaking bounds, "and if you are asample of my Lord Howe's men, I am thinking our General will have but ashort tussle. Go!"

The man retraced his steps, sulkily. He had been foraging on his ownaccount, and had unearthed bigger game than he could manage. 

Ruth watched the man until he passed from sight. As she turned about shefaced Andy sitting among the bushes. She jumped, then laughed nervously. 

"How did you get your cane?" she asked. 

"I was not six feet away. " Andy's voice was strangely calm. "I hope youknow, Ruth, " he faltered, 'that had things turned out differently, Iwould have been with you. You know that?"

"Yes, Andy. " A flush came to the pale face. "I think I feared you wouldcome more than anything else. But I do not trust that fellow. He willcome back. I know he was suspicious. Choose another way--next time!"

"Aye, and I'll stop up this trail. Good-by, Ruth. Hurry, I will waituntil you are safe, and this passage made harmless. "

For a few days longer Andy remained near home, not caring to run therisk of seeking the longer path of which he knew, while the Britisher'ssuspicions might still be alert. Once or twice he had met the fellow onthe public highway, and he feared to arouse any further cause forwatchfulness. He had discovered, also, that the man had gone back to thespot where he had encountered Ruth, but Andy laughed, when he recalledhow cunningly he had hidden the trail. But now the boy could wait nolonger, he must try to get near the lines and listen. 

Taking the longer way, he left his crutch hidden inside a cave-likeopening. He would never again trust the outside. Then in true Indianfashion he crept along through the rocky passage. He reached the otherend and for an hour or more waited patiently, but only the passing of alonely sentinel rewarded him, and he guessed that no news would comethat way. 

He dared not emerge from his shelter, for the day was too bright andclear, the sentinel would surely spy him, and better no news than togive away the secret of the passage. Disappointedly he crept back, andat the other end put his hand cautiously forth to grasp his crutch. Thenhe became instantly aware that he was discovered, for his hand wasgrasped in a firm, unyielding clutch. 

Andy's heart stood still. He had no doubt but that Ruth's annoyer haddogged his steps and had captured him. But there was little of thecoward about Andy; he would face the worst. He pushed through the tangleof leaves, trying to free his hand, but the clasp was like iron. Thecaptor was not the Britisher, but a man of quite another sort. He wasyoung, handsome, splendidly formed. As he lay at full length upon themoss Andy thought he had never seen so tall a man. He wore velvetknee-breeches, long blue coat, and a wide-brimmed hat, which shielded apair of friendly, laughing eyes. One glance and Andy lost all fear. 

"Now that you have come from your hole, you young mole, good-morning toyou, and where have you fared?" The voice was ringing and full of cheer. 

"Good-morning, sir, " Andy made answer. 

"And where have you fared?"

"That I cannot tell you, sir. "

"You cannot tell me!" the man sighed, impatiently. "Now, do you know, for a moment I fancied that you were just the lad who could guide meover your interesting island. What with all this excitement, a peacefultraveler has no show above-ground. I hoped you might lead memole-fashion. "

"I will gladly show you through the pass, sir, as far as the gate amile or so below. "

"As far as the gate! Always as far as something! I want to gobeyond--'as far!' What care I for countersigns and passports. I want thefreedom of the island, and a chance to study its rocks and flowers andvery interesting weeds. Boys often know paths unknown to any oneelse--except Indians!"

"But I am a lame boy much dependent upon a crutch. "

"You can dispense with it at times, " laughed the stranger. "For a goodtwo hours you did without it to-day. It and I have been keeping company. I followed you at a distance, thinking easily to overtake you, whenpiff! you were gone, and I and the crutch--for you see I searched thehole--were alone!"

For some moments Andy's hand had been free, and now as he looked at thespeaker he saw that he was holding in his open palm the charm which lasthe had beheld that glorious morning by the riverside. 

With a glad cry he sprang up. "I am Andy McNeal!" he said, and hedoffed Sam's hat, which was his only martial possession. 

"And I--am the schoolmaster!"

The two clasped hands. That was the beginning. Through the followingdays the master abode in Janie's house. The good woman asked noquestions. Her curiosity burned and burned, but wisdom held it in check. Enough that Andy was the companion of this mighty person. Enough thather humble roof sheltered him, and her able hands served him faithfully. It was wonderful, and--enough. Ruth, too, throbbed with excitement, butwent her ways calmly as if it were a common enough thing for a splendidschoolmaster to suddenly undertake Andy's neglected education, and payfor his lodging and board by instructing the hostess's son. 

This was what was going on. Book in hand the two walked abroad quiteopenly. Sometimes it would be rocks or flowers they were bent uponunderstanding, at other times the intricacies of the English languagewere the paths they followed. Occasionally Ruth would be asked to joinin the walks and talks, but oftener they were alone. There were reallessons. Andy pondered upon them deeply, and his hungry mind fed uponthe feast. Of course, so fine a master walking abroad with the lame boy, aroused the notice of the sentinels, but to their questions he answeredso glibly, that there remained nothing to do but ask more. The gamebecame tiresome. 

The tutor and his pupil kept within bounds, so there was no excuse forinterference. But one day, quite lost in abstraction, the two passedbeyond the gate at the end of the pass, and strolled down the roadpatroled by the British. Suddenly a loud "Halt!" made Andy jump. A lookof surprise passed over the master's face as a bayonet was thrust infront of him. 

The soldier was the one who had accosted Ruth; Andy knew him at once. 

"Dear me! dear me!" cried the master, querulously, "after seeing us passto and fro so often, one would not think it necessary to resort to suchrudeness. Pray, good fellow, is not this his Majesty's highway, and freeto all?"

"No, " grumbled the sentinel, lowering his weapon; "what's yourbusiness?"

"Schoolmaster. "

"I do not mean that. I see you prodding around rocks and weeds with yournoses in books, but I want to know what you mean on this road?"

"I desire to take a walk on it. I have no weapon, I am a peacefulperson. May I pass?"

"You better turn back. This road is sentineled all the way to camp. You're too simple to go alone. You are an American?"

"Certainly. Born and bred in the colonies. "

"A rebel?"

"Sir!"

"A rebel, I say?"

"I am loyal to the heart's core!" the master replied. "Come, Andy, theway back is doubtless more pleasant for peaceful folk than the waybefore. Conjugate to live, Andy. "

Once beyond sight and hearing of the foe, the master bared his head. "Loyal we are, and we know to whom! But how long it takes to disarmtheir doubts!"

CHAPTER IV

THROUGH THE CAVE

That same night, as Andy lay sleeping, a strange sound startled him. Inan instant he was out of bed, and limping toward the window. Again camethe plaintive sound. It was some one mimicking a night-owl, and doing itvery badly, as the boy's true ear detected at once. 

Andy replied, in a much better imitation; then, from out the shrubberybeneath the window, the master stepped forth in the moonlight. Hebeckoned to the boy, and then moved back into the shadow of the trees. 

Always, with Andy, there was the struggle between the quick, alert mindand will, and the weaker body. However, with trembling fingers, hedressed as rapidly as possible, gladly remembering that he could reachthe ground by the vine, thus saving time, and making sure that hismother would not be disturbed. 

In a few moments he was ready. He dropped his crutch cautiously from thewindow, and began to descend himself. The man among the shadows did notmove, though his expectant eyes were on the watch. Andy, keeping well inthe shelter of the shade, reached his friend. 

"That fellow we met to-day was prowling about the house an hour ago, "whispered the master; "he looked boldly into my window. I was awake andsaw his features distinctly, though I fancy he thought me unconscious. Isaw him leave by the stream path. He thinks me safe for to-night, butthey are suspicious, those Britishers, and you and I must get throughthe passage to their lines to-night. I believe something is afoot, andthey do not wish to run any chances. Lead on, Andy McNeal; before breakof day I must know all, all that is possible, and be away. "

"Follow!" said Andy, trembling with excitement, but losing no time. Downupon hands and knees they went, and no creatures of the wood and nightcould have been more silent. 

"All's well!" came from a far-off sentry; and the man and boy breathedquicker. A moment of rest at the opening of the cave-like path whereAndy and the master had first met, then into the narrow gloom toward thedanger line. 

"The way is narrow, " whispered Andy, "but it leads out just behind theBritish tents. "

"Ah! for Vulcan's hammer!" laughed the master softly; "I'd hew me abroader path, Andy. The width of me suffers sorely for the cause. " Andysmiled in the darkness. The mirth in the master's voice gave courage. 

"It is broader further on, " encouraged the guide. 

"God be praised for that!" groaned the man as he came in contact againwith the rocks. 

The crutch had been left at the entrance, well hidden. Hands and kneeswere all that were needed on that journey. Once a slimy creature crawledacross the master's hand, and he uttered an exclamation. 

"Don't do that again!" breathed Andy, in alarm. 

The minutes seemed endless, and the progress very slow. The darkness wasso intense that it was something of a shock to the master when hesuddenly became aware that he could see the outline of his guide's body. There was a small opening ahead, and a gleam of moonlight shot in!Neither spoke. If the British sentry was beyond there was every need ofstillness now. 

"I hear steps!" said Andy in a breath; "listen!"

The duller ear of the master heard no sound for a moment, then slowlyand alarmingly near, he _did_ catch the sound of the measured tread of asoldier, and, from the opposite direction evidently, a second man. Nearthe opening the two met. 

"Fine night, Martin; everything quiet?"

"Quiet? Lord, yes! If something does not happen soon, I swear I'll cutand run. It wouldn't take a great deal to make me quit. The pluck of therebels rather tickles me. I've half a mind to toss my luck among them, and stand or fall with the colonies. "

"Better change your mind, " laughed the other; "something's going tohappen and that pretty quick. "

"Is that hearsay, Norton, or authentic? I've just come into camp. I'vebeen having a picnic over on Long Island--raiding farms and doing a lotof dirty work that sickens me. Clean fighting is what I set out to do, and gad! this kind of thing turns a fellow's stomach. We've been fed onthe talk that these rebels are cowards. Cowards, bah! And as for thatbig, silent general of theirs, he--he rather appeals to me!"

"Don't be white-livered, Martin!" sneered Norton. "You may get some coldsteel from your own countrymen for uttering such sentiments. Myinformation is all right, it comes from his lordship himself. Washingtonis too dangerous to leave longer alone; should he find out--what wasthat?"

The master, less a child of the woods than Andy, in his excitement hadtried to creep closer, and the quick ear of the sentinel had noticedthe sound. 

"It is this accursed spot again!" muttered Norton; "twice lately I couldhave sworn I heard breathing among the bushes. I've beaten every inch ofground, and not a living creature have I found. I'm not squirmish, and arebel now and then don't count, but--well, you know I brought thatparson's cub down a bit further back. Lord! how the fellow strutted, andwhen I called to him he started like a stuck pig. I cannot forget thelook on his face as--as I fired. 

"I'm agreeing with you, Martin, clean fighting or nothing. I'm not up tothis slaughtering of infants myself. I half expect to see that babyplaying in the moonlight every time a leaf rustles at night. " The manlaughed uneasily. "Once I fancied I saw a face--a pale boy-face--shiningin the bushes. Lord, it gave me a turn!"

"Could there be a secret passage?" asked Martin in a low voice. "Afellow named Godkin told me an hour ago that he had his eye on a lamechap and a gawk of a schoolmaster who were always skulking around closeto the ground. He says the boy lives hereabouts and knows the woods likea snake. "

"No fool rebel could keep such a secret from me. Godkin likes to talkand swagger. He feels his oats. Come, just to pass the time, let's beatthe bushes. "

"Back out!" breathed Andy. There was no time to be lost. But thebackward movement was most painfully slow. The men tramping in thebushes, feeling the thing but child-play, laughed and talked loudly. 

"How many men has the old fox!" asked Martin, giving a cut to the busheswith his gun. 

"Twelve thousand, though he gives out many more. "

"He's got grit, " rejoined Martin, "with my lord gripping his throat atclose quarters with double that number at his heels, to stand still andcalm as--as this rock! Gad, I nearly broke my gun! This land producesmore rocks than anything else. I heard Washington is planning to get onLong Island again. "

"He'll never get there. My Lord Howe--what in thunder!" Norton hadslipped and fallen, and as he lay so, his face was on a level with theopening in the rocks!

"Come here!" he gasped. "Got a light! There's a hole here. "

Martin struck a light and peered in. As he did so Andy's white, horrified face gleamed forth from the shadow. Without a word the headwas withdrawn, and both Andy and the master knew that the man, or bothmen, would follow at once. 

"They are big!" moaned Andy, "and they do not know the way as we do. Oh, hurry!"

The master feared that the sentinel would fire into the cave, but as themoment passed, and he did not, he took heart, and crept backward as fastas he could. Then came the sure sound of the chase. One or both hadentered the passage! They had this advantage; they could come straighton, while the pursued were going backward, the master, being the bulkierand more uncertain, barring Andy's smaller body. 

"For our lives!" almost sobbed the boy. 

The oncoming foe once or twice struck a light, but the curving of thepassage hid the prey. However, the sound ahead was enough to guide theBritishers. Then suddenly the master became wedged, and the leader ofthe pursuers came so near that Andy fancied he felt his breath. 

"I don't hear the little scamp!" muttered Norton; "perhaps the passagedivides. Wait until I strike a light. " In that instant the masterextricated himself, and with desperate haste the two backed along, whilethe light flickered, and then went out, much to the dismay of the foe. 

"Hurry!" commanded Norton; "I hear him again; don't fool with thelight!" The head man and Andy were not a yard apart now, and thenarrowest of the passage was yet to come!

The master realized this, too. He knew if he were to get wedged againall would be over, and Andy was the one nearest the enemy! He paused andAndy came in violent contact with him. The leading Britisher was uponthem! The form behind Andy darted forth an arm of steely muscle, and aterrific blow fell sure and sudden on the face of the British sentinel!

"My God!" screamed the fellow, and "The devil!" echoed from hiscompanion. 

"Now!" whispered the master, "this is our last fling!"

It was over at last. The entrance was gained. Taking no time to considerhow spent Andy was, the master began to pile rocks at the opening. Ittook not overlong, for the mouth of the cave was small. 

"So!" almost laughed the master in his relief, "before my British friendgets his senses back, the way is barred. Good! Here, Andy, lad, give meyour hand. To the house, and to bed. Ere daybreak I must be well awayfrom here. They are planning an attack at once, and I know where I canget the plans, methinks. That fellow saw you, and there is no furtherchance for me here. "

"You--you are going?" Andy, leaning on the master and his crutch, wasmaking good headway. "The man saw only me; surely you can stay insafety. "

"Andy, do you think the fellow thought you dealt that blow?" The clearlaugh was stifled. "No; we are marked men. But I am on the right coursenow. Washington shall soon have the papers he needs. "

"Where do you go?" whispered Andy; "can I not be of use?"

"Not now, my friend, and if we never meet again, Andy McNeal, rememberwhom we have both served well, and that you have made brighter for memany a weary hour. I care not what the thoughtless may think of me, butI would have you know that what the future holds of seeming dishonor andshame, I assumed in truest loyalty. 

"From what I am to do, others shrank. I saw but one way, though, Godknows, my heart was wrung. I reserve nothing. Even what seems my honor Igive to my country and Washington!"

The master and Andy stood still in the moonlight, and the two youngfaces gleamed white and troubled. "Good-night and farewell. Thank yourmother. " He was gone. 

Andy painfully and slowly climbed the stairs and entered his bedroom. 

His heart was very heavy. He had seemed on the verge of doing a greatservice, and behold, the chance had fled. 

CHAPTER V

A SUSPICION

September dragged wretchedly. There was no need of stealing among thebushes for news or amusement. 

Indeed, Andy wisely concluded that to keep to the open, innocent wayswould be the only possible thing that could help the absent master. 

He missed the lessons and the exciting comradeship, too; the contrastwas painful. Janie saw, but questioned not. It was all beyond her. Ruthwas the only relief. 

"Fear not, Andy, " she would say. "You must bide your time, and waitpatiently. 'Tis what Washington is doing. Copy your General in this, aswell as other things. One may serve in that way as well as in others. You should hear the tales Hans Brickman tells of the doings in thepatriot camp. He carries eggs and honey, you know. 

"He says that Washington isn't just fighting or holding in check theking's men; but his own troops are acting shamefully--threatening todesert, and begging for money; complaining all day long. Oh! if I were asoldier I would show them!" The girl flung her strong young arms aboveher head, and brought down her clenched fists in a laughably vehementway. 

"And there sits that great General, never flinching, but writing toCongress to pay the babies; and calming the tyrants with one breath, andshaming them into obedience with the next. 

"Hans says he dashes at them sometimes with his sword, and slaps the rawrecruits into shape, telling them that if they run when he orders themto advance, he'll shoot them himself. There's a man for you!"

"Indeed there is a man, " nodded Andy, and his face grew brighter. "And Ishould cry shame to myself because I am so impatient of this lamenesswhich holds me back. "

"Holds you back! Andy McNeal, that is rank ingratitude. You've been upto some mighty doings, that I know, or you would not be hungering formore glory. Oh, I can see a bit ahead of my nose. Time was when you hungaround, not knowing glory because it had not come your way. You'vetasted it, Andy, and your thirst grows. I know a thing or two. You'regetting strong, too, Andy; you're an inch taller than I. Fathermentioned the fact this very morning. You're taking on airs, butremember, I knew you when you were less a man. Have a care; a woman hasa tongue. I'll be calling you down if you carry things with too high ahand. "

Andy laughed and stood straighter. Then, very quietly:

"Andy, what was the master's name?"

"Ruth, I do not know. "

"Do not, or will not tell?"

"I do not know. "

"Can you tell me why he stayed here?"

"I cannot tell you, Ruth. Why do you ask?" The girl paused and droppedher clear eyes. 

"They do say, the whisper has reached my father, that he was a spy, and--and a dangerous one!"

"They lie!" said Andy, hotly; "he, a spy!" Then the boyish voice fell. The last, sad talk under the stars came clearly back, and in the shockof the memory the boy trembled. 

Ruth watched him closely. "I'm not over-curious, " she faltered, "but Ifear for you. If he--if he were a spy you were seen with him far toooften for your good. Father even feared for me. "

"Ruth" (Andy's voice had a new tone), "I can believe no dishonor of themaster, and I am proud that I walked with him and was his friend!"

"Aye" (Ruth looked doubtful), "but a spy is not a good thing, Andy, nomatter what shape it takes. "

Old, rigid training held them both, but Andy must defend his friend, though the honest soul of Ruth shone from her eyes, and challenged him. 

"It is as a thing is used, " he began, lamely, but seeing his way dimly. 

"Father does not preach that, " Ruth broke in. 

"No; nor would I preach it, " sighed Andy. 

"But you would act it?" Ruth flashed. 

"I do--not know. I cannot think the master was aught but honest. If hewere--were--" Andy could not use the hard word--"if he were findingthings out, you may be sure, Ruth, it was not for his own uplifting. Ifhe gave what other men would call--would call their honor--it wasbecause he held not even _that_ from his country. I can--see--how--thatcould--be!"

Ruth raised her eyes. "Could you, Andy?" she said. 

"Yes. I could give it as I could my life. I would take no recompense, Iwould just give, and do anything. Ruth, suppose you knew a truthabout--about--well, about me; a truth that, if it were known, would bethe death of me. Would you tell, or--or would you save me?"

It was a rigid moment for the stern little maid. Her eyes fell, thenwere raised again. 

"I--do--not--know, " she panted, "but a lie is a lie, and I should expectto be punished. "

"So should I for any dishonorable thing, " agreed Andy. "That is justit, but it would be my willingness to do it, and then to suffer, thatmakes the difference. "

The two were standing near the end of the Pass at a small gate, and asAndy ceased speaking a sound smote their ears that turned them pale. Itwas the sound of many horsemen galloping wildly onward. 

"The king's men landed at Kip's Bay this morning, " gasped Andy, clutching the gate, "and they do say that Douglass's men are not strongenough to defend the point. "

It was Putnam's five brigades; the boy and girl only knew they werepatriot troops. They had been ordered by Washington to make forManhattanville before retreat was cut off. 

Young Aaron Burr was acting as guide. The master had once pointed himout to Andy, and the boy remembered the face well. Boldly and fearlesslyhe was riding, and Andy's voice broke into a cheer as he recognized thenoble face. The leaders halted. There were several roads ahead; whichwas safest and quickest? Burr ventured a question. 

"Which way leads most directly to Manhattanville?" he said. 

"Keep close to the river, and make for Kingsbridge, Colonel, " Andyanswered. "That road is not so carefully watched; it is rougher butsafer. "

Burr gave him a smile, then galloped ahead. The last weary stragglerswere barely out of sight, when again the sound of on-coming horsemenbroke the stillness. 

"These are king's men!" groaned Ruth, who had stood rigidly silent untilnow. "Ah! Andy, and the others so little in advance!"

Constantly blowing their bugles and shouting derisively after thefleeing patriots, my Lord Howe's men advanced. 

"'Tis a rare fox-hunt!" laughed one. 

"But the fox and his mates are out of sight, my lord, " cried another. 

"For the moment. The ways divide a few rods beyond. Did the rebels passthis way?" asked an officer noticing Andy and Ruth. 

[Illustration: "BURR VENTURED A QUESTION. "]

"Yes, sir!" answered Ruth, promptly, and for a moment Andy sickened atwhat he feared she was about to do. It was too late, though, for him tointerfere. 

"Which road did they take?"

The instant's pause seemed an eternity to Andy. Then calmly and withclear, uplifted eyes:

"The main road, sir, it being the safer and shorter!" Andy felt amoment's dizziness. Then a rough voice startled him:

"I know that boy, my lord; he was the one in the secret passage, aboutwhich I told you. I shall not soon forget him. "

"I thought you said your companion in the cave was dealt a stunningblow; surely this lad could have done no such thing, " answered theCaptain. 

"I could swear to him, your lordship, though I saw him but for a momentas Martin went down, and the light went out. Hi! there, Martin, comehere, " he called. A man galloped up, a man with a dark bruise upon hisforehead and eye. 

"Martin, do you know that boy?" Martin looked, and in the clear light hesaw and knew Andy at once; but something staggered him, and hestammered and shook. 

"Did you strike this soldier?" asked the Captain impatiently of Andy. 

"No, sir!" The words came sharply. 

"You do not recognize him?" asked the officer of Martin. 

"He--is--the--same!" Martin blurted. "We are losing time, my lord. "

"There is no way to settle the thing here; we are losing time, and yourstory of that night in the cave is too important to overlook, Norton. Ifthis is the boy we must deal with him later. The young scamp probablyknows the roads well. Lead on, you rascal, but if you play any tricksand mislead us, my men shall pin you to a tree. "

Ruth gave one despairing cry:

"He is lame, " she panted. "For shame! How can he lead a mounted troop?"

"We'll go slowly. The game's nearly up, my girl, " laughed Norton, "and aprick of the bayonet"--he suited the word with an action, and proddedAndy on the arm--"will hurry the lamest patriot. Lead on, cave-crawler!"

Andy gave one look at Ruth. A look of bravery, appreciation, and mutethanks for her part of the work. 

"It's all right, Ruth, " he called back. "Tell mother I'll lead themstraight enough and be home in an hour. Good-by. "

By a winding way leading from the main road they went; throughApthorpe's place they cantered at their ease, and so came to the highwaya mile beyond. 

"There may be a shorter cut, my lord, " suggested Norton; then he paused. "Does your lordship observe there are no marks on the road that bespeakthe recent passing of a regiment? This should mean the young rebel'sdeath!"

"He's a spy in the old fox's hire!" shouted another. 

"String him up, along with the schoolmaster down at the Beekman placeto-morrow morning!" roared a third. All was wild commotion in a moment. But in that moment Andy took his chances and made for the thicket, andthe hidden path over which he and Washington went that day that nowseemed so long ago. A man leaned from a horse and tried to clutch him, lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. Confusion covered Andy'sdash. 

"He's gone!" yelled the man who had fallen. 

"Which way?" shouted several in response. 

Which way? Aye, that was the query. Which way!

Andy made for the dry bed of the stream. No rustling leaves must betrayhim. Not in flight was his safety now, but in silent hiding untildarkness should come. Down into the muddy pool of the once rushingbrook, rolled the boy. In the distance he heard:

"No trail here, my lord!" and he smiled grimly. 

"Well, a lost lame rebel is of less account than the regiments ahead, "shouted the Captain. "Bad luck to the young devil. Cut cross country andtry the river road!"

"They have an hour to the good!" thought Andy, as he remembered theweary patriots and young Aaron Burr. Soon all was quiet, and with thepalpitating silence a new thought grew in Andy's brain. "Better stringhim up to-morrow with the schoolmaster!" Whom did they mean!

"Schoolmaster! Spy!" The two words struck dully on the aching brain. Suppose! Andy sat up and gazed wildly into the dense underbrush. "Couldit be?" But no; the idea was too horrible. 

The long shadows began to creep among the rocks they loved so well. Still Andy sat staring into the awful possibility that the wordsconjured up. 

"Schoolmaster! Spy!" He could stand it no longer. Cautiously he crept upthe bank. Through all the excitement he had clung to his crutch. It mustserve him well now. He set out determinedly toward the highway. Comewhat might, he must reach the Beekman place as soon as possible, and hehoped that the road was safe, owing to interest being centeredelsewhere. In this hope he was right. Below and above him, excitementran rife, but the highway seemed to belong to him alone. 

CHAPTER VI

THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE

A terrible storm was coming up, after the sultry day. Andy's whole beingcentered upon the thought that he must reach the Beekman Place; and thecoming storm might delay him. Only so far did it affect him. He felt nohunger; it troubled him a little that his mother and Ruth would worryabout him, but nothing mattered so much as the solving of the doubt thatwas causing his heart and brain to throb. 

Strangely enough, his lameness decreased as his excitement waxedgreater, or it seemed to, and he considered it less. The birds stoppedtwittering their vesper songs, and huddled fearfully in their shelters. A peal of thunder was followed quickly by another. The rocks took up theecho and prolonged the sound. Between, the flashes of lightning, thedarkness could almost be felt, so tangible and dense it seemed. OnceAndy fell and struck his head. The blow made him giddy, but the raindashing in his face steadied him, and he plodded on. Then a glare in thedistance attracted him. It was in the direction toward which he wasgoing. 

"A fire!" he muttered. "All the more reason for hoping they will notnotice me. " The town might burn, what matter, if only the way were freeto the Beekman place. 

It was still dark when he reached his destination, worn and haggard. Over toward the greenhouse people were stirring about, and Andy rightlyguessed that the prisoner, whoever he might be, was there. No luckierplace could have been chosen, so far as Andy was concerned. It wassurrounded by shrubbery through which he could creep right up to thebuilding, providing, of course, that the sentinels did not see him. Butthe sentinels were relaxing their watch. The hours of the troublesomespy were nearly ended, and there could be little danger of any furthertrouble on his account. 

Andy crept along, keeping to the bushes. The storm was nearly over, andno lightning could betray his motions now. 

Once the glass house was reached, Andy looked eagerly in. There was apile of rubbish in one corner, and a man was sitting upon a rude benchnear it; between him and Andy, however, were two men with their backs tothe boy, and they quite hid the face of the man upon the bench. The twowere listening, and the third man was speaking. Andy was too far away tohear, but, gaining courage, he crept around to the other side of thehouse, and so came close to the group within. Something in the attitudeof the man upon the bench had caused the boy's heart to leap madly, thenalmost stop. He raised his eyes slowly--one look was enough!

Sorrow and ill-treatment had done their work, but the dear face was thesame! Dauntless, undying courage shone upon the uplifted face. 

It was the master! The errand, whatever it had been, was over. Successor failure? Andy could not tell from the calm features. Spy or hero!What mattered? There sat the beloved friend, deserted and forlorn--stillunconquered though the fetters bound him close. 

"I would send, if your kindness will permit, these letters. They willmake lighter the sorrow of them I love. "

Andy bowed his head and clutched at his throat to stifle the rising cry. A broken pane of glass near-by permitted him to hear clearly every word. 

One man on guard had a low, brutal face, the other, Andy noticed, had amore humane look. 

"Have you the letters written?" asked the coarse fellow. 

"I have. " The master drew them from his breast and handed them to thespeaker. 

"One is to Washington, " laughed the man. "Gad, you must take us for rawrecruits. "

"I shall be beyond harming you soon. That letter refers to personalmatters, I swear. " There was superb dignity in the voice. "I would havehis excellency know that I regret nothing. I would do all over again, did the need arise. Washington would see that my comrades understandthat. "

The man with the letters gave vent to a brutal oath. Then the quieterman spoke for the first. 

"If we read the letters and find them harmless, I am for forwardingthem. To whom are the others addressed?"

"One to my family, the other--to the woman I was to have married!" Themaster, for the first time, bowed his head, as if his burden were tooheavy. 

"I think we may carry out your request if the contents are what youimply. "

"And make a hero of this spy!" snarled the rougher man. "Every word mayhave a double meaning, Colonel. We have the papers he so carefully hid, but these letters may contain the same information, slyly concealed. " Hetore the letters across twice, and flung the pieces on the floor. "Deathand oblivion to all rebel spies!" he hissed. 

The master never flinched, but his pale face grew paler. "Is thereanything else we can do for you?" asked the milder voice, "somethingsafer than forwarding letters?"

"I should like to have the right generally granted a dying man, ofseeing a minister. One lives a few miles above here. I am sure he wouldcome. "

"And hear what you dare not write, " sneered the torturer. "You are notthe sort to need a death-bed scene; besides, there isn't going to be anydeath-bed. I dare say the parson would be glad enough to carry yourso-called confession to Washington. Bah! you are crude in your lastmoments. "

"Come, " impatiently spoke the fellow's companion, "I have no stomach foryour jests and brutality. " Then, turning to the master, he said: "Wewill leave you for a few hours. It seems the only thing we can do foryou. Try to rest. "

Down the greenhouse the two went. The master was alone! He bowed hissplendid head, and perhaps tasted, for the first time, the dregs ofdesolation. 

Andy, lying low among the bushes, saw that the master's feet werebound. The sight wrung the boy's soul. Perhaps he had wildly hoped thatescape were possible, but one glance showed him that the fetters werecruelly strong. What could he do? Near and far he heard the measuredtread of sentinels at their posts. He wondered that he had ever gainedhis present position unnoticed. It was doubtful now that he could makehis own escape, for a gray dawn was breaking in the east. But thethought of his own danger troubled the boy little. He was thinking of apeculiar whirring sound that he and the master had once practicedtogether. A sound like an insect. "'Twould be a good signal, " theteacher had said. Would he remember it?

Andy pressed close to the broken glass, and chirruped distinctly. Themaster started and raised his eyes. Was he dreaming! Again Andyventured. Then a smile flitted across the master's face. 

"Andy!" he breathed. 

"Here, close to you!"

Slowly, without a suspicious start, the man turned in the boy'sdirection; and the two brave comrades smiled at each other over the gulfof pain and grief. 

"I will try to sleep!" This aloud, to regale the ear of any possiblelistener other than Andy. With difficulty the master stretched, as besthe could, his fettered limbs upon the floor, taking heed to lie as closeto Andy as possible. 

Silence. Then the man tossed and talked aloud in troubled fashion. 

Andy, meantime, with a daring that might risk all, put his hand in thebroken pane and drew the bits of paper of the torn letters to him. 

"Tell Washington, " moaned the voice of the master in a half sleepywhisper, "I regret nothing. Am proud to die and to have given _all_. "

"I have the letters!" breathed Andy. "If I live Washington shall havethem and know all. "

"Thank God!" came from the man upon the floor. "You are a true friend, Andy McNeal. "

"Good-by, " groaned Andy. "Some one is coming!" The cold perspirationcovered the boy's body, for steps were drawing near. 

"There could hardly be any one outside, " said a loud, rough voice. "Still we must take no chances. The poor devil has reason to toss in hissleep and talk. I doubt if he were doing anything else. "

The need was desperate. Andy crawled like a snake through the grasses. Escape seemed impossible. He passed the two searchers in the friendlygloom, and breathed freer. This was a lucky move, for the two menexamined thoroughly the spot where Andy had been. They discovered thebroken glass, and one remarked that the weeds had been crushed. 

"Some animal has been prowling about, there are no footprints, " said theother. 

Andy's Indian training was serving him well. In a few minutes the twopassed on. "We'll walk around the place. Daybreak is near. The dangerousspy's time is short. "

Andy made the most of that time. Stealing cautiously in and out of theshrubbery, he worked his way out of sight of the greenhouse. The chillof the morning made him shiver. How many hours he had passed withoutfood or drink he did not consider; but his heart seemed dead withinhim. 

Painfully he came at last to the shelter of the woods. Then he sat downupon a fallen tree, clutching the scraps of paper against his throbbingbreast. In imagination he seemed to see the master being led forth todie. See! the east was rosy. Now, even now, the brave soul was marchingon undaunted and undismayed. Andy could see nothing in the brilliancy ofthat lovely morning light, but the uplifted face of the man he loved. Apride and joy came to the boy. That hero was his friend! The world mightcall him a spy--but he, Andy McNeal, knew that he had given all for thecountry's cause, and regretted nothing, even in the face of a dishonoreddeath. 

"And Washington shall know!" breathed Andy. "As soon as I can reachheadquarters, the General shall have these!" Fiercely he pressed thepapers. Then he arose. He was stiff and deadly weary. 

"I will go to Ruth!" he sighed. "I must have food and rest. I dare notgo to mother. My plight is too sad. I will save her the sight. "Bedraggled and blood-stained--for the fall of the night before had leftits mark--Andy went on, looking, as indeed he was, a soldier of thecause. 

CHAPTER VII

ANDY HEARS A STRANGE TALE

Andy made but poor time to the minister's house. It was well on towardnoon when the shouts of the children at play cheered his heart. He hadbeen obliged to rest many times, and once he had fallen asleep and sleptlonger than he knew. 

As he drew near the cottage he saw Ruth kneeling by Sam's grave. It wasone of the girl's daily duties of love to bring fresh flowers and coverthe mound with the bloom. Glad enough was Andy to see her alone, and inthis quiet spot. He went more rapidly; the sight of Ruth gave him newstrength. He had no intention of frightening her, he made no attempt towalk quietly, but indeed a look at his haggard face would have causedalarm in any case. 

"Ruth!" The girl looked up, stared, but made no cry. She rubbed hereyes feebly as if awakening from sleep, then she grew deadly pale. 

"Andy McNeal!" she whispered. "Whatever has happened?"

"I will tell you. " He sank down wearily, and took the cap from his head. 

"My heart has been filled with horror, " Ruth went on, giving Andy timeto catch his breath. "I dared not tell any one what really happened. They think you merely went as guide. I never expected to see you aliveagain. I am not sure that I do now!" She smiled pitifully, and came nearAndy to chafe his cold hands. 

"I'm alive, " the boy faltered. "But, oh! Ruth, I have lived years. " Thenbrokenly, and with aching heart, he told the story of the past hours. Ruth never took her eyes from his face, but her color came and went asshe listened. The tale was ended at last, ended with all the tragicdetail and the showing of the scraps of paper. Then Ruth stood up. 

"Andy, " she said, in her prompt fashion, "the house is empty. Mother hasgone to your home, father will be away until to-morrow. The childrenare easily managed. Now I want you to go in the upper room after youhave eaten. I want you to rest all day and then--then I have somethingto tell you and--there is more to do. "

"Yes; these, " sighed Andy, looking at the papers. "I should start atonce with these. "

"'Twould be folly. There are awful doings afoot, Andy McNeal. It is notime for a mid-day walk to Harlem Heights. You must do as I say. Come innow; you are starved and utterly spent. "

Andy followed gladly. It was the course, the only course, of wisdom. 

He ate ravenously, and drank a quart of rich milk. Ruth was busied inthe room above, and when the meal was finished Andy joined her. 

"Now, " she smiled, "everything is ready. " He found a pail of hot water, and some of the minister's clothing lay on a chair. "They'll have to do, Andy, until I can wash and dry yours, " said Ruth. 

"What matters?" answered Andy. "If I sleep I shall not mind the rest. "

"I know. You must only obey now, Andy. Remember I love to do my share!"Tears stood in her brave eyes, and Andy understood. 

Andy fell asleep almost at once. The hot bath took the pain from hissore body, the clean, worn linen was cool and soothing, and the droningof the bees in the near-by hives hushed sorrow and weariness into deepoblivion. 

And while he dreamed of peaceful walks with the master under sunnyskies, and smiled in the dreaming, Ruth had summoned Janie, and themother sat waiting patiently the awakening. There was much to tell andmore to do. But Andy dreamed on. 

Four o'clock! The tall clock in the living-room spoke loudly. Andystirred and muttered something, then slept again. 

Five o'clock! The boy sat up on the narrow bed and stared into hismother's face. 

Janie never flinched, though his pallor and the cut on his forehead madeher heart ache. 

"Mother, I must get to Washington at once. I--I have a message. "

"Yes, son. "

"I do not fear death. It comes but once!"

"Yes, Andy, lad. But I'm thinking you'll not be meeting death just now. It looks like you were singled out to live and act for all my oldmisgivings. God forgive me. "

She bowed her head and it rested on Andy's shoulder. Stern Janie hadnever done such a thing before, and even at the moment Andy was touchedand moved. He smoothed the hair away from the pale face, and gently, lovingly kissed his mother. 

"There are strange happenings, Andy, " she sighed. 

"There are, indeed, " he agreed. 

"But things about which you know nothing, lad, and--and I must tell youbefore you go. Get up; dress, son. Ruth and I have made decent your ownclothing. I can talk better while you move about. I cannot bear youreyes, my lad. " Andy arose at once and began his dressing, keeping hisface turned from his mother, but her own was rigidly set toward thewindow. 

"Your father has come back, Andy!"

A strange pause, then:

"My father!" Andy had dropped into a chair. The sentence had deprivedhim of strength to stand. He knew his mother never wasted words, or maderash statements. His father had come back! And Andy did not know thathis father was alive. In fact, knew nothing of him, and that struck himfor the first time with stunning force. Janie's back was straight andfirm. 

"Yes, your father. I kept it all from you. I meant to tell you some day, Andy, but time passed and you asked no questions, and I--I thoughteverything was past and gone forever. But he has come back. "

"Where is he?" asked Andy. 

"At home. He has been hurt, and is feverish and ill. He was doingsentinel duty for--for the British, and he received a terrible blow fromsome one in a cave. I cannot tell what is best to do, Andy, and I mustlook to you for help. "

Somehow Andy had gotten to his feet, and staggered across the littleroom to his mother. Almost roughly he seized her hand, while the awfultruth unfolded itself from the dense darkness of the past. 

"Say that again!" he commanded. Janie looked at him in amazement. 

"Say what!" she asked. 

"That about the blow, and--and the cave!"

Janie repeated it, wondering why that detail should so interest Andy. 

"You see, " she continued, not heeding his horrified look, "I marriedyour father when I was very young. I look older than I be, lad. Hebrought me nothing but trouble. He was above me in station. He belongedto his majesty's regiment stationed here, and when the regiment wasrecalled he went--back! Little he cared for the girl he left or the babythat bore his name! I managed, and neighbors helped me to forget, and--and I could not tell you Andy. I hoped I never would be obligedto. "

"Go on!" Andy still held his mother's hand, but with infinite gentlenessnow. Tears stood in Janie's eyes, and the human need for sympathy met ananswering thrill in the heart of the son. 

"He--he saw you yesterday at the pass, Andy, when they made you guidethem after the troops, and your face frightened him. He says you look solike his mother, that it is just terrible. She has recently died, andher memory and the thought that his son might be alive and here, gavehim a bad turn. He asked your name, and as I kept my own name after hedeserted me, he guessed the truth, and as soon as he could break awayfrom the others he came to me--and--that is all, Andy. But what shall Ido?"

Andy tried to think. Tried to bring events into orderly line andcoherence, but the more he tried the more detached he felt, and as ifthe whole matter was one with which he had nothing to do. 

"I was so young, Andy, lad, only seventeen!" When had Janie ever pleadedbefore?

"Yes, " murmured Andy. "I am nearly seventeen now. Seventeen years arelong--sometimes. But, of course, you were very young. "

"And I had no one to guide me, Andy. I was alone. I have always beenalone, and it has been hard. " A sob rose to the trembling lips. Andylooked at his mother, and, oddly enough through all the bewilderment, thought that she had a beauty he had never noticed before. 

"You were handsome, too, " he whispered. Janie started. 

"Yes, " she replied. "I suppose I was, then. Your voice is like his. Italways was, Andy. That was one reason that at times I could not bear it. Oh, Andy! it is no easy matter to be a lonely woman!" The cry smote thelistener, and his growing manhood reached out to her. 

"Mother, you are not alone. You have me. I will come back to you, standby you, and we will see what is best to do. I must go on my errand, andI think you ought to go to--to father!" The word nearly choked him. 

"But suppose anything should happen to you?" Janie clung to the hand ofthis new, strange, but well-loved son, "whatever shall I do?

"I think I shall come back to you. I think I am needed, and it seemsclear to me that I shall come back. " Andy smiled into the troubledface, and tried to rouse himself into action. 

"If you should fall into the hands of the British, " whispered Janie, "tell them you are the son of Lieutenant Theodore Martin; it may helpyou, son. "

"Your name is my name!" Andy proudly broke in. "I never shall seek favorthrough any other. If they take me, they take Andy McNeal, and if I comeback I shall come bearing that name, until my mother bids me takeanother!"

Janie bowed her head. It had been her first, only weak attitude towardher country. 

"You are right, " she quivered. "But I fear for you. "

Presently his mother left him. He and she had work to do, and it must bedone apart. A few minutes after she was gone, Ruth came up bearing atray of food. She was limping painfully, and Andy, sitting by the windowlost in thought, got to his feet in alarm. "You are hurt!" he cried. Asmile spread over the girl's pale face. 

"I'm a depraved sinner!" she said, setting the tray on a stand anddropping into a chair. "After the war is over I shall repent and take upgodly ways. For the present I am a lost soul, and given over to Satan. Andy, the lie I told yesterday about the river road was the beginning ofmy downfall. How easily we glide downhill. "

"'Twas the only thing to do, Ruth, " nodded Andy. "I think such a liegrows innocent from the start. It was the object, Ruth. What else couldyou have done? It puzzles me sore to try and explain. I just leave thelie to God. He will understand. "

"I have left it there, Andy, and from the joy and gladness I have felt, I believe there was nothing else to do. But this lameness, oh, Andy!"

"How did it happen?"

"Just as the lie did, Andy. This is a bodily lie. "

"I do not understand, Ruth. "

"Eat, and I will explain. " Andy began mechanically. He must be ready forhis task in any case. Food was the first step. 

"I have been reading the Bible to the children, Andy. They wanted thestory of David. As I read it seemed as if you were like David. When hewent to meet Goliath, how impossible his victory seemed, but the handthat swung the sling was strong enough to win the day. Andy, " Ruth benttoward him, her face glowing, "you are strong enough to win against yourGoliath!"

"Mine?"

"Yes; all the king's men! You will get to Washington before another dayis passed. But--you must let me help you. "

Andy set the cup of milk down and stared at the earnest face. 

"I'm very dull, " he said. "I only know that I must go. I do not see, now, that you can help. "

"You must not think of going abroad as Andy McNeal, " the girl explained. "They are watching for you. Janie says that more than one Britisher hasbeen to her door. "

"Do you know--" Andy began. 

"Yes, " nodded Ruth, "but he is well hidden. It is you they are after. Then, too, I know what the British expect to do. Hans Brickman foundout and he is almost frightened to death with his secret. He thinks theBritish will see his secret written all over him, and he is afraid to gointo camp--the patriot camp, you know. He has honey and butter to sell, and he sells to friend or foe. I've told him I will go with himto-night. "

"What secret?" asked Andy, keen to the main point. 

"The British war-ships are going up the river!" Ruth was whispering inAndy's ear, not daring to trust her voice even in the little room. "Father says the General does not expect this move, but they are gettingready down by the Battery. Father says the forts cannot stand a riverattack. "

"But Washington _must_ know this. He never is taken off guard. " Andyspoke proudly and with assurance. 

"Well, any way, " said Ruth, "he is preparing for a land attack. It iscommon talk. "

"Just a blind!" Andy broke in. But his face was troubled. "However, Imust get these papers to him, and if I can I will speak to him. It cando no harm. "

"But you cannot go as you are, Andy. "

"How then?"

"Why, " Ruth went to the door and dragged in a bundle, "in these!" Sheheld up one of her own dresses, a big sunbonnet, and a neat white apron. 

"Ruth!" Andy flushed hotly. 

"I have sprained my ankle, " Ruth explained with an assumed whimper, "andpoor Hans is about distracted. He is afraid to go peddling alone withhis secret writ large in both Dutch and English on his foolish face. Ihave told him I will go lame or no lame. Fortunately he is hard ofhearing and stupid as an owl in broad daylight. You might be less likeme than you are, and Hans would not know. We have much to be thankfulfor, Andy. "

"Ruth, I cannot!"

"Andy, you shall!" They looked into each other's eyes and then becausethey were young and brave, they smiled; smiled above the danger andheartache. 

[Illustration: "IT TOOK ALL OF ANDY'S COURAGE TO DON THE FEMALEATTIRE. "]

"What a girl you are!" laughed Andy. 

"Yes, there are few like me, " sighed the girl. "Born to trouble as thesparks fly upward. "

"Born to deliver others from trouble, I verily believe, " added Andy. 

"Not a moment to spare!" commanded Ruth. "You have eaten a noble meal. Imust go to my room to suffer now. When Hans bawls from the wagon, beready, and remember the eggs are a shilling more to his majesty's menthan to Washington's. "

It took all Andy's courage to don the female attire. He had never doneso hard a thing, yet he knew that Ruth was right. If he hoped to reachthe patriot camp he must not attempt it as Andy McNeal. "Next bestthen, " he thought, "is to go as Ruth White. God bless Ruth!"

"Hi!" rose shrilly on the soft evening air, "hi! we starts now!"

It was Hans bellowing from the wagon. Andy plunged into the bonnet, whose big, flapping frill almost hid his face. He took his crutch--itsaid was not to be despised now--and hobbled down-stairs. 

"Washington is in the Morris Mansion!" Ruth whispered as he passed herdoor. 

Under his sunbonnet Andy turned scarlet, but he did not turn towardRuth. 

"There goes our Ruthie to sell eggs, " called little Margaret White fromover her bowl of milk in the kitchen. "Does your leg hurt awful, Ruthie?"

Mrs. White at the table did not turn, but she said:

"Take heed, Margaret, your milk is spilling. Ruth is all right. " As invery truth she was. 

"We be late, already, " called Hans from his wagon. "Can you get up, miss?"

Andy mounted slowly, and crouched behind Hans among the baskets andpails. The Dutch boy had but recently come over from Long Island to livewith the parson. After the battle of Long Island he had fled to what hethought were more peaceful pastures for employment; but he had hisdoubts. Dangers pursued Hans, and he was sore distressed. It wasnecessary for him to sell the products of the little farm, and, really, the danger of the parson's daughter going along to straighten mattersout, was no great matter. Peddlers, unless suspected, were allowed topass the lines, and their wares paid for with more or less honesty. 

CHAPTER VIII

AT HEADQUARTERS

"Your excellency, dar am a lame girl, an a fool Dutchman outside. Degirl done say, she's got to delibber de eggs to yourself, sah!"

"Eggs!" The tall, anxious man at the table turned sharply. He waswriting to Congress, and the interruption annoyed him. 

"Yas, sah. " The colored man bowed humbly. "I'se been tellin' dem we haseggs nouf, but the Dutchman he deaf as a stun wall, an' de girl am datsot, dat your own self couldn't be sotter, sah. She done say her folks'prived demselfs of food an' drink, sah, to save dese eggs fur yourexcellency, an' she goes on tu say, sah, dat she done been habbin' dedebbil's own time gettin' past de lines wid de eggs. She's been 'sultedby de British and odder hard things. She won't go, sah, till I done tellyou all dis rubbish. "

"Bring her in, " quietly said the listener. 

Washington never slighted the humble, and, besides, messages were sentin odd ways. It was always better to be willing to listen. The black mandeparted, muttering, and presently returned, showing the lame girl inwith no very good grace. 

"Dat am de General!" he explained, shutting the heavy door after thelimping figure. 

There was no need of explanation. The eyes under the drooping frill grewjoyous at the sight of the honored face. The heart under the coarsecotton frock beat high with pride, and--yes, shame, for how was the boyto make himself known?

"Pray be seated, " the deep voice was saying. "You are weary and you havetaken chances of danger to reach me with your gift. "

Andy sank into the nearest chair. 

"I appreciate your devotion and unselfishness, but I would advise nofuture attempts to pass the British lines for such a thing. "

"There were other reasons, sir, " said Andy. Washington came nearer. 

"I fancied so, " he said, "and they are?"

Andy drew the basket of eggs to him, and unwrapped several, handing thepapers to Washington. The General took them, crossed to the window, andfor a few moments pieced the bits together carefully. Then he read. Andywatched him, remembering that other face in the greenhouse on thenever-to-be-forgotten night. 

"Where did you get these?" he said suddenly. Andy stood up leaning uponhis crutch. 

"A messenger, in time of danger, must come as he may, sir, " he said, bravely. Then tearing off the bonnet he added:

"Andy McNeal, at your service, sir!" Washington's face never betrayedhim, but a glad look came to the overweary eyes. He extended his hand, and grasped Andy's. 

"I remember!" he said. "You have been true to your trust. And now forthe story. "

Sitting in the stately room of the mansion, opposite the great General, Andy McNeal told his story. Try as he might, his voice would break, buthe thought no shame of his weakness, for the keen eyes looking into hisown were often dim. 

"I asked a great thing of Nathan Hale, " said the General at last, "buthe gave it willingly. Andy McNeal, you have been a faithful friend to asgreat a hero as the Revolution will ever know. Many offer their lives. He offered his honor. Willing was he to die, and to die dishonored bythe many. Some day his country will understand. "

"And, sir, do you know the British are bringing their ships up theriver?"

Washington's eyes gleamed. "I have sent men to Frog's Point, " he smiled. "They will meet a welcome when they land. Thank you. And now farewell. Take heed as you return. You are safer without a guard. "

"Is there no work for me to do? Is there no place in the ranks for suchas I?"

The tremendous question broke from Andy's lips. To go back into idlenesswas his one dread. He longed to follow; to be the humblest, but mostpatriotic, of the many. Washington understood. 

"I must leave here directly, " he answered. "Ere another week passes Ishall be gone. Where future battles are to be fought, remains to beseen, but always, my first object is to guard the Hudson. I needfaithful hearts here. I shall not forget you, Andy McNeal, nor yourservice. If I can use you, be ready. I shall know where to find you. Youare sure to be more useful here than elsewhere. You know your woods asfew others do, and I know I can depend upon your courage andfaithfulness. Again farewell. "

Andy arose, drew on the disguising headgear, not even thinking of it, sofull was his heart, and so he departed to face whatever lay before. 

The immediate thing that faced Andy McNeal was the meeting with his ownfather. It took all the courage he possessed to do this, and yet he knewthat he could not begin to live again until the new complications hadbeen grappled with and readjusted. 

After dark of the same day upon which Andy had seen Washington, hereached his mother's little house. Hans and he had had severalencounters with the British, but a thickheaded, deaf Dutchman, and ayoung, frightened lame girl, with a hideous bonnet, served only for amoment's idle sport for the king's gallant men. And after annoyingdelays they were allowed to pass with a warning to come soon with morefood, or their houses would be burned over their heads. 

Andy paused outside the cottage. He heard his mother moving about, andthe indistinct voice of a man from the guest-room beyond. 

"The vine again!" thought Andy. But the ascent in the gown wasdifficult. "A maid's progress is bitter hard!" smiled he, and he thoughttenderly of Ruth. 

The little loft-room seemed oddly changed to Andy. He looked about. Everything was the same, and yet--

"It is that voice below-stairs, " muttered he. "It alters everything. " Afeeling of hatred crept in Andy's heart against this man who hadsuddenly assumed so close a relationship to him. 

"What will mother do?" he questioned as he changed his clothing, and puton the decent Sunday-suit that was hanging from the pegs. "What willshe do?" And in his heart Andy knew what she would do, what, at least, she would want to do. He had seen it shining back of the trouble in hereyes when she first spoke to him. The want had brought the look ofbeauty with it, and had banished the marks of the lonely years. 

"But a Britisher!" moaned the boy, smoothing his hair, "a Britisher forJanie and Andy McNeal! I might forgive him for all else--for mother'ssake, but not that, not that!"

"Andy, lad, is it you?" Andy started. His mother was coming up thestairs!

"Yes, mother. " She stood before him now. The coarse cotton gown that wasfamiliar to Andy's boyhood was gone. A dull, bluish linen with whitecuffs and collar had replaced it, and above the becoming dress shone theface of a new Janie. 

A jealous pang struck Andy's heart, and he shivered in spite of himself. 

"I thought I heard you, lad. You are safe?"

"Quite safe, mother. "

"But sair tired?" she dropped into the Scotch unconsciously. 

"Not overtired. I did my errand well. "

"And now, Andy, what next?"

"Nothing. Since I cannot follow and fight, I must bide at home and wait. Does any one come here for help from the patriot army we must be ready, mother. "

"Aye, surely, lad. You know where my heart lies!"

"But, mother, the--the person below. He is--a deserter if he is foundhere. What then? And surely not even he must keep us from doing ourduty. "

"Lad" (Janie came close), "I cannot hope to have you understand. Whenlove comes your way, Andy, it will plead for me. All these years--I havebeen a starved and forsaken woman, and it has changed me. We all goastray, Andy, and--and your father. Oh! call him that, son, for my sake. Your father has dealt sorely with me and you, but he has come back. Hewas hunting us long before he found us. He wants to mend the past. Andy, as we hope for mercy from the good God, let us be merciful. "

"But a Britisher, mother. An enemy to our cause. Oh, mother!"

"Andy, lad, come!" She put out her hand pleadingly, and Andy followed. There was a candle burning in the guest-room, and by its modest gleamsat the man who, when Andy had seen him last, was proclaiming his ownson to be the rebel who had presumably struck one of the king's men inthe cave. Very pale was the man now, and the bruise on the foreheadshone plain even in the dim light. He looked up at Andy in a curious, interested way, and half extended his hand. 

"You do not care to take the hand of a Britisher, I see. " The white facerelaxed in a faint smile. Andy went nearer. 

"For my mother's sake I can take my--my father's hand, though it allseems mighty queer. "

"I want you to know, " said the man, "that I would not have told my headofficer who you were that day, but I was so alarmed at the likeness youbore my mother that I was unaware of what I was doing. It was horribleto realize as I was beginning to do then, that I was probably speakingto my own--son. "

"It was more horrible to think that my own father had been struck by ablow dealt in my defense. You must have thought that, too. "

"No, I did not. Who struck that blow?"

"Nathan Hale. "

The man started. "And he?"

"Died the death of a spy two days ago. "

"Andy!" It was Janie who cried out. "Was our dear schoolmaster, NathanHale, the spy?"

"Nathan Hale, the patriot!" corrected Andy, and his eyes dimmed. 

"Oh! how you have suffered, lad. "

"Aye. " Andy sank into a chair. 

His father was looking at him keenly; and a growing expression ofadmiration was dawning in the searching eyes. Here was a son of whom hemight yet be proud. 

"Andy, " he said, "I can imagine your feeling toward me. I do not say Ido not deserve it. But your mother is willing to forgive the past, ifyou are willing to give me a trial. " The thin lips twitched. Martin wasa proud man, and his humble diet seemed never to be coming to an end. The hard young face opposite appeared more unrelenting than Janie's hadseemed. 

"What is best for mother is best for me, " said Andy. "I am almost a man. When the war is over I shall try to do a man's part in the world. Eachone of us has his life. "

Martin again became serious. "I have money, Andy; I can help you, andgive you a fair start. "

"Your money will make mother's life easier. It has been a hard life. "

"There, there, Andy, lad! Do not be bitter, son. "

"Not bitter, mother. But I cannot forget. Not just at first. "

"I can educate you, Andy, " Martin added. "You might take that help froma stranger, and repay it later on. "

A hungry look came into the boy's eyes. The teaching of the master hadawakened an appetite that would not sleep. "I did without for manyyears, " he replied. But Martin had seen the gleam, and was proud. 

"In a day or so, Andy, " he went on, "I must ask a favor of you. I wantyou to guide me to the patriot headquarters. " The boy started. "I camehalf-heartedly to fight against the colonies. It is my desire to throwmy lot in with theirs now. You may be able to do me a favor with yourGeneral. He will know you. If I come back you may be able to respectyour father. If not--your mother has a good son, and Parson White willsee that what belongs to you two will be yours. "

"Father!" Andy arose, and this time stretched forth his hand gladly. "Father, I will try to be a good son to you, too!"

"Thank God!" sobbed Janie, kneeling by the chair, and drawing Andywithin the circle of her new hopes. 

The old clock ticked and ticked contentedly. The hissing of the kettleon the fire recalled Janie to her happy tasks, and Martin and his sonwondered what the future would bring. 

CHAPTER IX

PEACE

"Only the cane now, Andy. The days of crutches are over!"

"Yes, Ruth, the country, the dear free country and I can nearly go alonenow. " Andy stood up proudly and beamed upon the pretty girl standing byhis mother. 

"I declare!" he laughed, "you look but little older than Ruth, mother!"

"Box his ears well, lass, " said Janie, mightily pleased. "He struts, does Andy, and you and I must take him down. "

"Come, " Andy broke in, "we must start now. Wrap up well, girls, " helaughed again, "'tis bitter cold, and the way is long. "

"No cold can reach me!" cried Janie, pulling her hood well over herhappy face. "Warm hearts make glowing bodies. To think, lad, he will bewith us to-night!"

The door of the little house was drawn to and locked. All within wasbeautiful and ready for the patriot who that night would return full ofhonors for the part he had played during the last two years. 

"Yes. He will be with us, mother, " echoed Andy. He looked at Ruth. Hehad learned to understand his mother now, and Ruth had shown him theway. 

"It was no light matter, " said the girl, keeping step with Andy over thecrisp snow, "for you--your father to be a patriot. He was not only apatriot but a deserter from the king's army. In every battle he had toface that. "

"Yes, " broke in Janie, "and when he went with Wayne to storm StonyPoint, he was nearly captured, as you will remember. And the Britishyelled at him, 'Don't shoot that deserter, lead's too good for him. We'll try an Indian trick on him!'"

Andy's face grew grave. "He's a brave man, " he whispered, and drewJanie's arm within his own. And so the little party came to Fraunce'sTavern, and bided near the room in which Washington and his officerswere dining before the General departed for Annapolis, where he was tolay down his commission, for the war was over, and peace had come to theyoung country. 

"Andy, " said Janie, closing the door of the small room which had beenreserved for them, "'twas great luck that my host's wife and I arefriends. Think of us having this to ourselves, and the great Generalright in the next room. Ruth, lass, there is a communicating door, astrue as I live! Andy, draw away the sofa. "

"Mother, you would not be an eavesdropper?"

"God forbid! Ruthie, is there a keyhole?"

"No keyhole, but a good generous crack in the panel! Hurry, Andy, withthe sofa, the thing weighs a ton. Push!"

"Ruth! We cannot spy upon the General. " Andy tried to look severe. 

"I can!" laughed the girl, mounting the sofa, and applying her eye tothe crack. "I'm afraid the Revolution has demoralized me, but I must seethe thing through. Andy, they look--they look magnificent!" Ruth wasquivering on her perch. Janie flung prudence and dignity to the winds, and climbed to Ruth's side, and, being taller, gained a portion of thecrack above the girl's head. 

"I can see no one but the General!" she said. "The crack is over-narrowfor such doings!"

"There is no one but Washington!" breathed Andy, and he lifted his headproudly. 

"Yes, there are others, " whispered Ruth, misunderstanding, "and if yourun your eye up and down the crack quickly, you can catch a sight ofthem. The crack is wider in some parts. "

"Heaven save us, lass!" (Ruth's head had come in violent contact withJanie's chin). "You have loosened my teeth!"

"They are going to drink a toast!" said Ruth, not heeding the accident, but thrilling with excitement. "Andy, 'tis no wrong we are doing. TheGeneral's voice can be heard distinctly, and I vow there are a dozenheads at every window opening on the porch. The crack is fine down here. I can see everything!"

Andy stood still. 

"He is raising his glass!" said Ruth near the floor. 

"With my heart full of love and gratitude I now take leave of you all. Most devoutly wishing that your latter days may be as prosperous andhappy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable. "

"His eyes are full of tears!" almost sobbed Ruth, and the eyes of themin the little room were dim. Glasses clinked together, then the fullvoice went on:

"I cannot come to each one of you and take my leave, but I shall beobliged if you will come and take my hand. " They needed no secondbidding those comrades, tried and true. One by one, feeling no shame intheir manly show of sorrow, they grasped their General's faithful handand parted from him with bowed heads. 

"They are going out!" panted Janie. "Now, Andy, for the hall. We mustmeet him at the door. "

As he came from the banquet room, Washington and his officers met thethree. He knew Andy at a glance, and then recognized Janie. He tookthem by the hand, and bowed in courtly fashion. 

"Patriots all!" he smiled. "You well deserve your hard-earned peace. "

They joined the throngs which followed Washington to the river. Theystood upon the Battery until the barge which bore the gallant figureaway faded from sight. So lost were they in admiration that for a momentnone of them noticed a tall figure approaching dressed in Continentaluniform. Then Janie saw him. Her face flushed like a girl's. 

"Andy!" she whispered, pulling her son's sleeve, "see, here is your--"

"Father!" greeted Andy, and stretched out a welcoming hand. 

Back to the lonely pass the four went, Janie and Martin on ahead. 

"And now, " questioned Ruth in a soft whisper, "what comes next, Andy?"

"I am to study. Ah! Ruth, how I shall study! I mean to learn all that Ican and carry the best to them who call me. "

"You really mean to be a minister?"

"That I do, God willing!" answered Andy, reverently. 

"'Tis a hard life, Andy. "

"For that I love it. "

"Have you thought where you would like to go?"

"Just where the most urgent call comes. Ruth, the life is hard--"

"I know the life, Andy, and love it!"

"Could you--could you, Ruth?"

"Keep on living it? Yes, dear. Who so well fitted as I?"

They paused on the snowy path, and looked into each other's brave eyes. 

"I wonder if any life is really hard, dear Ruth, where--"

"Love lifts the burden? I think not, Andy. Love bears the weight. Wetake the glory. It is a wonderful thing. "

The red glow of the winter sunset seemed to warm the snow-covered earth, and in the still beauty the two followed Janie and Martin. 

THE END