In the Days of Poor Richard

  IN THE DAYS OF POOR RICHARD

  by

  IRVING BACHELLER

  Author of _The Light in The Clearing_, _A Man for the Ages_, etc.

  Illustrated by John Wolcott Adams

  IndianapolisThe Bobbs-Merrill CompanyPublishersPress Of Braunworth & CoBook ManufacturersBrooklyn, N. Y.

  1922

  [Frontispiece: A young John Irons and Margaret Hare in the forest.]

  TO MY FRIEND

  ALBERT J. BEVERIDGE

  Discerning Student and Interpreter of the Spirit of the Prophets, theStruggle of the Heroes and the Wisdom of the Founders of Democracy, IDedicate This Volume.

  FOREWORD

  Much of the color of the love-tale of Jack and Margaret, which is apart of the greater love-story of man and liberty, is derived from oldletters, diaries, and newspaper clippings in the possession of awell-known American family.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  BOOK ONE

  I The Horse Valley Adventure II Sowing the Dragon's Teeth III The Journey to Philadelphia IV The Crossing V Jack Sees London and the Great Philosopher VI The Lovers VII The Dawn VIII An Appointment and a Challenge IX The Encounter X The Lady of the Hidden Face XI The Departure XII The Friend and the Girl He Left Behind Him

  BOOK TWO

  XIII The Ferment XIV Adventures in the Service of the Commander-in-Chief XV In Boston Jail XVI Jack and Solomon Meet the Great Ally XVII With the Army and in the Bush XVIII How Solomon Shifted the Skeer XIX The Voice of a Woman Sobbing XX The First Fourth of July XXI The Ambush XXII The Binkussing of Colonel Burley XXIII The Greatest Trait of a Great Commander

  BOOK THREE

  XXIV In France with Franklin XXV The Pageant XXVI In Which Appears the Horse of Destiny and the Judas of Washington's Army XXVII Which Contains the Adventures of Solomon in the Timber Sack and on the "Hand-made River" XXVIII In Which Arnold and Henry Thornhill Arrive in the Highlands XXIX Love and Treason XXX "Who Is She that Looketh Forth as the Morning, Fair as the Moon, Clear as the Sun, and Terrible as an Army with Banners?" XXXI The Lovers and Solomon's Last Fight

  BOOK ONE

  CHAPTER I

  THE HORSE VALLEY ADVENTURE

  "The first time I saw the boy, Jack Irons, he was about nine years old.I was in Sir William Johnson's camp of magnificent Mohawk warriors atAlbany. Jack was so active and successful in the games, between thered boys and the white, that the Indians called him 'Boiling Water.'His laugh and tireless spirit reminded me of a mountain brook. Therewas no lad, near his age, who could run so fast, or jump so far, orshoot so well with the bow or the rifle. I carried him on my back tohis home, he urging me on as if I had been a battle horse and when wewere come to the house, he ran about doing his chores. I helped him,and, our work accomplished, we went down to the river for a swim, andto my surprise, I found him a well taught fish. We became friends andalways when I have thought of him, the words Happy Face have come tome. It was, I think, a better nickname than 'Boiling Water,' althoughthere was much propriety in the latter. I knew that his energy givento labor would accomplish much and when I left him, I repeated thewords which my father had often quoted in my hearing:

  "'Seest thou a man diligent in his calling? He shall stand beforekings.'"

  This glimpse of John Irons, Jr.--familiarly known as Jack Irons--isfrom a letter of Benjamin Franklin to his wife.

  Nothing further is recorded of his boyhood until, about eight yearslater, what was known as the "Horse Valley Adventure" occurred. A fullaccount of it follows with due regard for background and color:

  "It was the season o' the great moon," said old Solomon Binkus, scoutand interpreter, as he leaned over the camp-fire and flicked a coal outof the ashes with his forefinger and twiddled it up to his pipe bowl.In the army he was known as "old Solomon Binkus," not by reason of hisage, for he was only about thirty-eight, but as a mark of deference.Those who followed him in the bush had a faith in his wisdom that waschildlike. "I had had my feet in a pair o' sieves walkin' the whitesea a fortnight," he went on. "The dry water were six foot on thelevel, er mebbe more, an' some o' the waves up to the tree-tops, an'nobody with me but this 'ere ol' Marier Jane [his rifle] the hull tripto the Swegache country. Gol' ding my pictur'! It seemed as if thewind were a-tryin' fer to rub it off the slate. It were a pesky windthat kep' a-cuffin' me an' whistlin' in the briers on my face an'crackin' my coat-tails. I were lonesome--lonesomer'n a he-bear--an'the cold grabbin' holt o' all ends o' me so as I had to stop an' argue'bout whar my bound'ry-lines was located like I were York State. Cat'sblood an' gun-powder! I had to kick an' scratch to keep my nose an'toes from gittin'--brittle."

  At this point, Solomon Binkus paused to give his words a chance "tosink in." The silence which followed was broken only by the crack ofburning faggots and the sound of the night wind in the tall pines abovethe gorge. Before Mr. Binkus resumes his narrative, which, one mightknow by the tilt of his head and the look of his wide open, right eye,would soon happen, the historian seizes the opportunity of finishinghis introduction. He had been the best scout in the army of SirJeffrey Amherst. As a small boy he had been captured by the Senecasand held in the tribe a year and two months. Early in the French andIndian War, he had been caught by Algonquins and tied to a tree andtortured by hatchet throwers until rescued by a French captain. Afterthat his opinion of Indians had been, probably, a bit colored byprejudice. Still later he had been a harpooner in a whale boat, and inhis young manhood, one of those who had escaped the infamous massacreat Fort William Henry when English forces, having been captured anddisarmed, were turned loose and set upon by the savages. He was atall, brawny, broad-shouldered, homely-faced man of thirty-eight with aRoman nose and a prominent chin underscored by a short sandy throatbeard. Some of the adventures had put their mark upon his weatheredface, shaven generally once a week above the chin. The top of his leftear was missing. There was a long scar upon his forehead. These werelike the notches on the stock of his rifle. They were a sign of thestories of adventure to be found in that wary, watchful brain of his.

  Johnson enjoyed his reports on account of their humor and color and hedescribes him in a letter to Putnam as a man who "when he is muchinterested, looks as if he were taking aim with his rifle." To some itseemed that one eye of Mr. Binkus was often drawing conclusions whilethe other was engaged with the no less important function of discovery.

  His companion was young Jack Irons--a big lad of seventeen, who livedin a fertile valley some fifty miles northwest of Fort Stanwix, inTryon County, New York. Now, in September, 1768, they were travelingahead of a band of Indians bent on mischief. The latter, a few daysbefore, had come down Lake Ontario and were out in the bush somewherebetween the lake and the new settlement in Horse Valley. Solomonthought that they were probably Hurons, since they, being discontentedwith the treaty made by the French, had again taken the war-path. Thisinvasion, however, was a wholly unexpected bit of audacity. They hadtwo captives--the wife and daughter of Colonel Hare, who had beenspending a few weeks with Major Duncan and his Fifty-Fifth Regiment, atOswego. The colonel had taken these ladies of his family on a huntingtrip in the bush. They had had two guides with them, one of whom wasSolomon Binkus. The men had gone out in the early evening after mooseand imprudently left the ladies in camp, where the latter had beencaptured. Having returned, the scout knew that the only possibleexplanation for the absence of the ladies was Indians, although noperil could have been more unexpected. He had discovered by "the sign"that it was a large band traveling eastward. He had set out by nightto get ahead of the
m while Hare and his other guide started for thefort. Binkus knew every mile of the wilderness and had canoes hiddennear its bigger waters. He had crossed the lake on which his party hadbeen camping, and the swamp at the east end of it and was soon farahead of the marauders. A little after daylight, he had picked up theboy, Jack Irons, at a hunting camp on Big Deer Creek, as it was thencalled, and the two had set out together to warn the people in HorseValley, where Jack lived, and to get help for a battle with the savages.

  It will be seen by his words that Mr. Binkus was a man of imagination,but--again he is talking.

  "I were on my way to a big Injun Pow-wow at Swegache fer Sir Bill--ayesit were in Feb'uary, the time o' the great moon o' the hard snow. Nowthey be some good things 'bout Injuns but, like young brats, they takenatural to deviltry. Ye may have my hide fer sole luther if ye ketchme in an Injun village with a load o' fire-water. Some Injuns issmart, an' gol ding their pictur's! they kin talk like a cat-bird. Askunk has a han'some coat an' acts as cute as a kitten but all thesame, which thar ain't no doubt o' it, his friendship ain't wuth a dam.It's a kind o' p'ison. Injuns is like skunks, if ye trust 'em they'llsp'ile ye. They eat like beasts an' think like beasts, an' live likebeasts, an' talk like angels. Paint an' bear's grease, an' squaw-fun,an' fur, an' wampum, an' meat, an' rum, is all they think on. I've ettheir vittles many a time an' I'm obleeged to tell ye it's hard work.Too much hair in the stew! They stick their paws in the pot an' grabout a chunk an' chaw it an' bolt it, like a dog, an' wipe their handson their long hair. They brag 'bout the power o' their jaws, which Iain't denyin' is consid'able, havin' had an ol' buck bite off the topo' my left ear when I were tied fast to a tree which--you hear tome--is a good time to learn Injun language 'cause ye pay 'tentionclost. They ain't got no heart er no mercy. How they kin grind up acaptive, like wheat in the millstuns, an' laugh, an' whoop at the sighto' his blood! Er turn him into smoke an' ashes while they look on an'laugh--by mighty!--like he were singin' a funny song. They'd be menan' women only they ain't got the works in 'em. Suthin' missin'. Bythe hide an' horns o' the devil! I ain't got no kind o' patience withthem mush hearts who say that Ameriky belongs to the noble red man an'that the whites have no right to bargain fer his land. Gol ding theirpictur's! Ye might as well say that we hain't no right in the woods'cause a lot o' bears an' painters got there fust, which I ain'ta-sayin' but what bears an' painters has their rights."

  Mr. Binkus paused again to put another coal on his pipe. Then helistened a moment and looked up at the rocks above their heads, forthey were camped in a cave at the mouth of which they had built a smallfire, in a deep gorge. Presently he went on:

  "I found a heap o' Injuns at Swegache--Mohawks, Senekys, Onandogs an'Algonks. They had been swappin' presents an' speeches with the French.Just a little while afore they had had a bellerin' match with us 'boutlove an' friendship. Then sudden-like they tuk it in their heads thatthe French had a sharper hatchet than the English. I were skeered, butwhen I see that they was nobody drunk, I pushed right into the bigvillage an' asked fer the old Senecky chief Bear Face--knowin' he werethar--an' said I had a letter from the Big Father. They tuk me to him.

  "I give him a chain o' wampum an' then read the letter from Sir Bill.It offered the Six Nations more land an' a fort, an' a regiment todefend 'em. Then he give me a lot o' hedge-hog quills sewed on tobuckskin an' says he:

  "'You are like a lone star in the night, my brother. We have stretchedout our necks lookin' fer ye. We thought the Big Father had forgot us.Now we are happy. To-morrer our faces will turn south an' shine withbear's grease.'

  "Sez I: 'You must wash no more in the same water with the French. Youmust return to The Long House. The Big Father will throw his great armeround you.'

  "I strutted up an' down, like a turkey gobbler, an' bellered out a loto' that high-falutin' gab. I reckon I know how to shove an idee undertheir hides. Ye got to raise yer voice an' look solemn an' point atthe stars. A powerful lot o' Injuns trailed back to Sir Bill, but theywas a few went over to the French. I kind o' mistrust thar's some o'them runnygades behind us. They're 'spectin' to git a lot o' plunderan' a horse apiece an' ride 'em back an' swim the river at the place o'the many islands. We'll poke down to the trail on the edge o' thedrownded lands afore sunrise an' I kind o' mistrust we'll see sign."

  Jack Irons was a son of the much respected John Irons from NewHampshire who, in the fertile valley where he had settled some yearsbefore, was breeding horses for the army and sending them down to SirWilliam Johnson. Hence the site of his farm had been called HorseValley.

  Mr. Binkus went to the near brook and repeatedly filled his old felthat with water and poured it on the fire. "Don't never keep no firea-goin' a'ter I'm dried out," he whispered, as he stepped back into thedark cave, "'cause ye never kin tell."

  The boy was asleep on the bed of boughs. Mr. Binkus covered him withthe blanket and lay down beside him and drew his coat over both.

  "He'll learn that it ain't no fun to be a scout," he whispered with ayawn and in a moment was snoring.

  It was black dark when he roused his companion. Solomon had been upfor ten minutes and had got their rations of bread and dried venisonout of his pack and brought a canteen of fresh water.

  "The night has been dark. A piece o' charcoal would 'a' made a whitemark on it," said Solomon.

  "How do you know it's morning?" the boy asked as he rose, yawning.

  "Don't ye hear that leetle bird up in the tree-top?" Solomon answeredin a whisper. "He says it's mornin' jest as plain as a clock in asteeple an' that it's goin' to be cl'ar. If you'll shove this 'eremeat an' bread into yer stummick, we'll begin fer to make tracks."

  They ate in silence and as he ate Solomon was getting his pack readyand strapping it on his back and adjusting his powder-horn.

  "Ye see it's growin' light," he remarked presently in a whisper. "Keepclost to me an' go as still as ye kin an' don't speak out loudnever--not if ye want to be sure to keep yer ha'r on yer head."

  They started down the foot of the gorge then dim in the night shadows.Binkus stopped, now and then, to listen for two or three seconds andwent on with long stealthy strides. His movements were panther-like,and the boy imitated them. He was a tall, handsome, big-framed ladwith blond hair and blue eyes. They could soon see their way clearly.At the edge of the valley the scout stopped and peered out upon it. Adeep mist lay on the meadows.

  "I like day-dark in Injun country," he whispered. "Come on."

  They hurried through sloppy footing in the wet grass that flung its dewinto their garments from the shoulder down. Suddenly Mr. Binkusstopped. They could hear the sound of heavy feet splashing in the wetmeadow.

  "Scairt moose, runnin' this way!" the scout whispered. "I'll bet ye apint o' powder an' a fish hook them Injuns is over east o' here."

  It was his favorite wager--that of a pint of powder and a fish hook.

  They came out upon high ground and reached the valley trail just as thesun was rising. The fog had lifted. Mr. Binkus stopped well away fromthe trail and listened for some minutes. He approached it slowly onhis tiptoes, the boy following in a like manner. For a moment thescout stood at the edge of the trail in silence. Then, leaning low, heexamined it closely and quickly raised his hand.

  "Hoofs o' the devil!" he whispered as he beckoned to the boy. "Seethar," he went on, pointing to the ground. "They've jest gone by. Thegrass ain't riz yit. Wait here."

  He followed the trail a few rods with eyes bent upon it. Near a littlerun where there was soft dirt, he stopped again and looked intently atthe earth and then hurried back.

  "It's a big band. At least forty Injuns in it an' some captives, an'the devil an' Tom Walker. It's a mess which they ain't no mistake."

  "I don't see why they want to be bothered with women," the boy remarked.

  "Hostiges!" Solomon exclaimed. "Makes 'em feel safer. Grab 'em whenthey kin. If overtook by a stouter force they're in shape fer adicker. The chief sta
nds up an' sings like a bird--'bout the moon an'the stars an' the brooks an' the rivers an' the wrongs o' the red man,but it wouldn't be wuth the song o' a barn swaller less he can show yethat the wimmen are all right. If they've been treated proper, it'sthe same as proved. Ye let 'em out o' the bear trap which it has oftenhappened. But you hear to me, when they go off this way it's to killan' grab an' hustle back with the booty. They won't stop atbutcherin'!"

  "I'm afraid my folks are in danger," said the boy as he changed color.

  "Er mebbe Peter Boneses'--'cordin' to the way they go. We got to cuteround 'em an' plow straight through the bush an' over Cobble Hill an'swim the big creek an' we'll beat 'em easy."

  It was a curious, long, loose stride, the knees never quitestraightened, with which the scout made his way through the forest. Itcovered ground so swiftly that the boy had, now and then, to break intoa dog-trot in order to keep along with the old woodsman. They kepttheir pace up the steep side of Cobble Hill and down its far slope andthe valley beyond to the shore of the Big Creek.

  "I'm hot 'nough to sizzle an' smoke when I tech water," said the scoutas he waded in, holding his rifle and powder-horn in his left handabove the creek's surface.

  They had a few strokes of swimming at mid-stream but managed to keeptheir powder dry.

  "Now we've got jest 'nough hoppin' to keep us from gittin' foundered,"said Solomon, as he stood on the farther shore and adjusted his pack."It ain't more'n a mile to your house."

  They hurried on, reaching the rough valley road in a few minutes.

  "Now I'll take the bee trail to your place," said the scout. "You cutercrost the medder to Peter Boneses' an' fetch 'em over with all theirgrit an' guns an' ammunition."

  Solomon found John Irons and five of his sons and three of hisdaughters digging potatoes and pulling tops in a field near the house.The sky was clear and the sun shining warm. Solomon called Irons asideand told him of the approaching Indians.

  "What are we to do?" Irons asked.

  "Send the women an' the babies back to the sugar shanty," said Solomon."We'll stay here 'cause if we run erway the Boneses'll git their ha'rlifted. I reckon we kin conquer 'em."

  "How?"

  "Shoot 'em full o' meat. They must 'a' traveled all night. ThemInjuns is tired an' hungry. Been three days on the trail. No time tohunt! I'll hustle some wood together an' start a fire. You bring apair o' steers right here handy. We'll rip their hides off an' git thereek o' vittles in the air soon as God'll let us."

  "My wife can use a gun as well as I can and I'm afraid she won't go,"said Irons.

  "All right, let her hide somewhar nigh with the guns," said Solomon."The oldest gal kin go back with the young 'uns. Don't want no skirtsin sight when they git here."

  Mrs. Irons hid in the shed with the loaded guns.

  Ruth Irons and the children set out for the sugar bush. The steerswere quickly led up and slaughtered. As a hide ripper, Solomon was aman of experience. The loins of one animal were cooking on turnspitsand a big pot of beef, onions and potatoes boiling over the fire whenJack arrived with the Bones family.

  "It smells good here," said Jack.

  "Ayes! The air be gittin' the right scent on it," said Solomon, as hewas ripping the hide off the other steer. "I reckon it'll start thesap in their mouths. You roll out the rum bar'l an' stave it in. Mis'Bones knows how to shoot. Put her in the shed with yer mother an' theguns, an' take her young 'uns to the sugar shanty 'cept Isr'el who'sbig 'nough to help."

  A little later Solomon left the fire. Both his eye and his ear hadcaught "sign"--a clamor among the moose birds in the distant bush and aflock of pigeons flying from the west.

  "Don't none o' ye stir till I come back," he said, as he turned intothe trail. A few rods away he lay down with his ear to the ground andcould distinctly hear the tramp of many feet approaching in thedistance. He went on a little farther and presently concealed himselfin the bushes close to the trail. He had not long to wait, for soon ared scout came on ahead of the party. He was a young Huron brave, hisface painted black and yellow. His head was encircled by a snake skin.A fox's tail rose above his brow and dropped back on his crown. Abirch-bark horn hung over his shoulder.

  Solomon stepped out of the bushes after he had passed and said in theHuron tongue: "Welcome, my red brother, I hear that a large band o' yerfolks is comin' and we have got a feast ready."

  The young brave had been startled by the sudden appearance of Solomon,but the friendly words had reassured him.

  "We are on a long journey," said the brave.

  "And the flesh of a fat ox will help ye on yer way. Kin ye smell it?"

  "Brother, it is like the smell of the great village in the HappyHunting-Grounds," said the brave. "We have traveled three sleeps fromthe land of the long waters and have had only two porcupines and asmall deer to eat. We are hungry."

  "And we would smoke the calumet of peace with you," said Solomon.

  They walked on together and in a moment came in sight of the littlefarm-house. The brave looked at the house and the three men who stoodby the fire.

  "Come with me and you shall see that we are few," Solomon remarked.

  They entered the house and barn and walked around them, and this, ineffect, is what Solomon said to him:

  "I am the chief scout of the Great Father. My word is like that of oldFlame Tongue--your mighty chief. You and your people are on a baderrand. No good can come of it. You are far from your own country. Alarge force is now on your trail. If you rob or kill any one you willbe hung. We know your plans. A bad white chief has brought you here.He has a wooden leg with an iron ring around the bottom of it. He comedown lake in a big boat with you. Night before last you stole twowhite women."

  A look of fear and astonishment came upon the face of the Indian.

  "You are a son of the Great Spirit!" he exclaimed.

  "And I would keep yer feet out o' the snare. Let me be yer chief. Youshall have a horse and fifty beaver skins and be taken to the borderand set free. I, the scout of the Great Father, have said it, and ifit be not as I say, may I never see the Happy Hunting-Grounds."

  The brave answered:

  "My white brother has spoken well and he shall be my chief. I like notthis journey. I shall bid them to the feast. They will eat and sleeplike the gray wolf for they are hungry and their feet are sore."

  The brave put his horn to his mouth and uttered a wild cry that rang inthe distant hills. Then arose a great whooping and kintecawing back inthe bush. The young Huron went out to meet the band. Returning soon,he said to Solomon that his chief, the great Splitnose, would havewords with him.

  Turning to John Irons, Solomon said: "He's an outlaw chief. We musttreat him like a king. I'll bring 'em in. You keep the meata-sizzlin'!"

  The scout went with the brave to his chief and made a speech ofwelcome, after which the wily old Splitnose, in his wonderfulhead-dress, of buckskin and eagle feathers, and his band in war-paint,followed Solomon to the feast. Silently they filed out of the bush andsat on the grass around the fire. There were no captives amongthem--none at least of the white skin.

  Solomon did not betray his disappointment. Not a word was spoken. Heand John Irons and his son began removing the spits from the fire andputting more meat upon them and cutting the cooked roasts into largepieces and passing it on a big earthen platter. The Indians eagerlyseized the hot meat and began to devour it. While waiting to beserved, some of the young braves danced at the fire's edge with short,explosive, yelping, barking cries answered by dozens of gutturalprotesting grunts from the older men, who sat eating or eagerly waitingtheir turn to grab meat. It was a trying moment. Would the whole bandleap up and start a dance which might end in boiling blood and tigerfury and a massacre? But the young Huron brave stopped them, aided nodoubt by the smell of the cooking flesh and the protest of the oldermen. There would be no war-dance--at least not yet--too much hunger inthe band and the means of satisfying it were too cl
ose and tempting.Solomon had foreseen the peril and his cunning had prevented it.

  In a letter he has thus described the incident: "It were a band o'cutthroat robbers an' runnygades from the Ohio country--Hurons, Algonksan' Mingos an' all kinds o' cast off red rubbish with an old Algonkchief o' the name o' Splitnose. They stuffed their hides with the meattill they was stiff as a foundered hoss. They grabbed an' chawed an'bolted it like so many hogs an' reached out fer more, which is thediffer'nce betwixt an Injun an' a white man. The white man gen'allyknows 'nough to shove down the brakes on a side-hill. The Injun ain'tgot no brakes on his wheels. Injuns is a good deal like white brats.Let 'em find the sugar tub when their ma is to meetin' an' they won'tworry 'bout the bellyache till it comes. Them Injuns filled themselvesto the gullet an' begun to lay back, all swelled up, an' roll an' gruntan' go to sleep. By an' by they was only two that was up an' pawin'eround in the stew pot fer 'nother bone, lookin' kind o' unsart'tn an'jaw weary. In a minute they wiped their hands on their ha'r an' layback fer rest. They was drunk with the meat, as drunk as a Chineea'ter a pipe o' opium. We white men stretched out with the rest on 'emtill we see they was all in the land o' nod. Then we riz an' set up ahussle. Hones' we could 'a' killed 'em with a hammer an' done itdelib'rit. I started to pull the young Huron out o' the bunch. Hejumped up very supple. He wasn't asleep. He had knowed better than toswaller a yard o' meat.

  "Whar was the wimmen? I knowed that a part o' the band would be backin the bush with them 'ere wimmen. I'd seed suthin' in the trail overby the drownded lands that looked kind o' neevarious. It were like theend o' a wooden leg with an iron ring at the bottom an' consid'ableweight on it. An Injun wouldn't have a wooden leg, least ways not onewith an iron ring at the butt. My ol' thinker had been chawin' thatcud all day an' o' a sudden it come to me that a white man were runnin'the hull crew. That's how I had gained ground with the red scout Itook him out in the aidge o' the bush an' sez I:

  "'What's yer name?'

  "'Buckeye,' sez he.

  "'Who's the white man that's with ye?'

  "'Mike Harpe.'

  "'Are the white wimmin with him?'

  "'Yes.'

  "'How many Injuns?'

  "Two.'

  "'What's yer signal o' victory?'

  "'The call o' the moose.'

  "'Now, Buckeye, you come with us,' I sez.

  "I knowed that the white man were runnin' the hull party an' I itchedto git holt o' him. Gol ding his pictur'! He'd sent the Injuns onahead fer to do his dirty work. The Ohio country were full o' robberwhelps which I kind o' mistrusted he were one on 'em who had raked upthis 'ere band o' runnygades an' gone off fer plunder. We got holt o'most o' their guns very quiet, an' I put John Irons an' two o' his boysan' Peter Bones an' his boy Isr'el an' the two women with loaded gunson guard over 'em. If any on 'em woke up they was to ride thenightmare er lay still. Jack an' me an' Buckeye sneaked back up thetrail fer 'bout twenty rod with our guns, an' then I told the youngInjun to shoot off the moose call. Wall, sir, ye could 'a' heerd itfrom Albany to Wing's Falls. The answer come an' jest as I 'spected,'twere within a quarter o' a mile. I put Jack erbout fifty feetfurther up the trail than I were, an' Buckeye nigh him, an' tol 'emwhat to do. We skootched down in the bushes an' heerd 'em comin'!Purty soon they hove in sight--two Injuns, the two wimmin captives an'a white man--the wust-lookin' bulldog brute that I ever seen--stumpin'erlong lively on a wooden leg, with a gun an' a cane. He had a broadhead an' a big lop mouth an' thick lips an' a long, red, warty nose an'small black eyes an' a growth o' beard that looked like hog's bristles.He were stout built. Stood 'bout five foot seven. Never see sech asight in my life. I hopped out afore 'em an' Jack an' Buckeye on theirheels. The Injun had my ol' hanger.

  "'Drop yer guns,' says I.

  "The white man done as he were told. I spoke English an' mebbe themtwo Injuns didn't understan' me. We'll never know. Ol' Red Snoutleaned over to pick up his gun, seein' as we'd fired ours. There was aprice on his head an' he'd made up his mind to fight. Jack grabbedhim. He were stout as a lion an' tore 'way from the boy an' started topullin' a long knife out o' his boot leg. Jack didn't give him time.They had it hammer an' tongs. Red Snout were a reg'lar fightin' man.He jest stuck that 'ere stump in the ground an' braced ag'in' it an'kep' a-slashin' an' jabbin' with his club cane an' yellin' an' cussin'like a fiend o' hell. He knocked the boy down an' I reckon he'd 'a'mellered his head proper if he'd 'a' been spryer on his pins. But Jacksprung up like he were made o' Injy rubber. The bulldog devil haddrawed his long knife. Jack were smart. He hopped behind a tree.Buckeye, who hadn't no gun, was jumpin' fer cover. The peg-leg cussswore a blue streak an' flung the knife at him. It went cl'ar throughhis body an' he fell on his face an' me standin' thar loadin' my gun.I didn't know but he'd lick us all. But Jack had jumped on him 'forehe got holt o' the knife ag'in.

  "I thought sure he'd floor the boy an' me not quite loaded, but Jackwere as spry as a rat terrier. He dodged an' rushed in an' grabbedholt o' the club an' fetched the cuss a whack in the paunch with hisbare fist, an' ol' Red Snout went down like a steer under the ax.

  "'Look out! there's 'nother man comin',' the young womern hollered.

  "She needn't 'a' tuk the trouble 'cause afore she spoke I were lookin'at him through the sight o' my ol' Marier which I'd managed to git itloaded ag'in. He were runnin' towards me. He tuk jest one more step,if I don't make no mistake.

  "The ol' brute that Jack had knocked down quivered an' lay still aminit an' when he come to, we turned him, eround an' started himtowards Canady an' tol' him to keep a-goin'! When he were 'bout tenrods off, I put a bullet in his ol' wooden leg fer to hurry him erlong.So the wust man-killer that ever trod dirt got erway from us with onlya sore belly, we never knowin' who he were. I wish I'd 'a' killed thecuss, but as 'twere, we had consid'able trouble on our hands. Righterway we heard two guns go off over by the house. I knowed that ourfirin' had prob'ly woke up some o' the sleepers. We pounded the groundan' got thar as quick as we could. The two wimmen wa'n't fur behind.They didn't cocalate to lose us--you hear to me. Two young braves hadsprung up an' been told to lie down ag'in. But the English languageain't no help to an Injun under them surcumstances. They don'tunderstan' it an' thar ain't no time when ignerunce is more costly.They was some others awake, but they had learnt suthin'. They waskeepin' quiet, an' I sez to 'em:

  "'If ye lay still ye'll all be safe. We won't do ye a bit o' harm.You've got in bad comp'ny, but ye ain't done nothin' but steal a pairo' wimmen. If ye behave proper from now on, ye'll be sent hum.'

  "We didn't have no more trouble with them. I put one o' Boneses' boyson a hoss an' hustled him up the valley fer help. The wimmen captiveswas bawlin'. I tol' 'em to straighten out their faces an' go with Jackan' his father down to Fort Stanwix. They were kind o' leg weary an'excited, but they hadn't been hurt yit. Another day er two would 'a'fixed 'em. Jack an' his father an' mother tuk 'em back to the pasturean' Jack run up to the barn fer ropes an' bridles. In a little whilethey got some hoofs under 'em an' picked up the childern an' toddledoff. I went out in the bush to find Buckeye an' he were dead as thewhale that swallered Jonah."

  So ends the letter of Solomon Binkus.

  Jack Irons and his family and that of Peter Bones--the boys and girlsriding two on a horse--with the captives filed down the Mohawk trail.It was a considerable cavalcade of twenty-one people and twenty-fourhorses and colts, the latter following.

  Solomon Binkus and Peter Bones and his son Israel stood on guard untilthe boy John Bones returned with help from the upper valley. A dozenmen and boys completed the disarming of the band and that evening setout with them on the south trail.

  2

  It is doubtful if this history would have been written but for anaccidental and highly interesting circumstance. In the first partyyoung Jack Irons rode a colt, just broken, with the girl captive, nowhappily released. The boy had helped every one to get away; then thereseemed to be no ridable h
orse for him. He walked for a distance by thestranger's mount as the latter was wild. The girl was silent for atime after the colt had settled down, now and then wiping tears fromher eyes. By and by she asked:

  "May I lead the colt while you ride?"

  "Oh, no, I am not tired," was his answer.

  "I want to do something for you."

  "Why?"

  "I am so grateful. I feel like the King's cat. I am trying to expressmy feelings. I think I know, now, why the Indian women do thedrudgery."

  As she looked at Him her dark eyes were very serious.

  "I have done little," said he. "It is Mr. Binkus who rescued you. Welive in a wild country among savages and the white folks have toprotect each other. We're used to it."

  "I never saw or expected to see men like you," she went on. "I haveread of them in books, but I never hoped to see them and talk to them.You are like Ajax and Achilles."

  "Then I shall say that you are like the fair lady for whom they fought."

  "I will not ride and see you walking."

  "Then sit forward as far as you can and I will ride with you," heanswered.

  In a moment he was on the colt's back behind her. She was a comelymaiden. An authority no less respectable than Major Duncan has writtenthat she was a tall, well shaped, fun loving girl a little past sixteenand good to look upon, "with dark eyes and auburn hair, the latter longand heavy and in the sunlight richly colored"; that she had slenderfingers and a beautiful skin, all showing that she had been delicatelybred. He adds that he envied the boy who had ridden before and behindher half the length of Tryon County.

  It was a close association and Jack found it so agreeable that he oftenreferred to that ride as the most exciting adventure of his life.

  "What is your name?" he asked.

  "Margaret Hare," she answered.

  "How did they catch you?"

  "Oh, they came suddenly and stealthily, as they do in the story books,when we were alone in camp. My father and the guides had gone out tohunt."

  "Did they treat you well?"

  "The Indians let us alone, but the two white men annoyed and frightenedus. The old chief kept us near him."

  "The old chief knew better than to let any harm come to you until theywere sure of getting away with their plunder."

  "We were in the valley of death and you have led us out of it. I amsure that I do not look as if I were worth saving. I suppose that Imust have turned into an old woman. Is my hair white?"

  "No. You are the best-looking girl I ever saw," he declared withrustic frankness.

  "I never had a compliment that pleased me so much," she answered, asher elbows tightened a little on his hands which were clinging to hercoat. "I almost loved you for what you did to the old villain. I sawblood on the side of your head. I fear he hurt you?"

  "He jabbed me once. It is nothing."

  "How brave you were!"

  "I think I am more scared now than I was then," said Jack.

  "Scared! Why?"

  "I am not used to girls except my sisters."

  She laughed and answered:

  "And I am not used to heroes. I am sure you can not be so scared as Iam, but I rather enjoy it. I like to be scared--a little. This is sodifferent."

  "I like you," he declared with a laugh.

  "I feared you would not like an English girl. So many North Americanshate England."

  "The English have been hard on us."

  "What do you mean?"

  "They send us governors whom we do not like; they make laws for uswhich we have to obey; they impose hard taxes which are not just andthey will not let us have a word to say about it."

  "I think it is wrong and I'm going to stand up for you," the girlanswered.

  "Where do you live?" he asked.

  "In London. I am an English girl, but please do not hate me for that.I want to do what is right and I shall never let any one say a wordagainst Americans without taking their part."

  "That's good," the boy answered. "I'd love to go to London."

  "Well, why don't you?"

  "It's a long way off."

  "Do you like good-looking girls?"

  "I'd rather look at them than eat."

  "Well, there are many in London."

  "One is enough," said Jack.

  "I'd love to show them a real hero."

  "Don't call me that. If you would just call me Jack Irons I'd like itbetter. But first you'll want to know how I behave. I am not afighter."

  "I am sure that your character is as good as your face."

  "Gosh! I hope it ain't quite so dark colored," said Jack.

  "I knew all about you when you took my hand and helped me on thepony--or nearly all. You are a gentleman."

  "I hope so."

  "Are you a Presbyterian?"

  "No--Church of England."

  "I was sure of that. I have seen Indians and Shakers, but I have neverseen a Presbyterian."

  When the sun was low and the company ahead were stopping to make a campfor the night, the boy and girl dismounted. She turned facing him andasked:

  "You didn't mean it when you said that I was good-looking--did you?"

  The bashful youth had imagination and, like many lads of his time, aromantic temperament and the love of poetry. There were many books inhis father's home and the boy had lived his leisure in them. Hethought a moment and answered:

  "Yes, I think you are as beautiful as a young doe playing in thewater-lilies."

  "And you look as if you believed yourself," said she. "I am sure youwould like me better if I were fixed up a little."

  "I do not think so."

  "How much better a boy's head looks with his hair cut close like yours.Our boys have long hair. They do not look so much like--men."

  "Long hair is not for rough work in the bush," the boy remarked.

  "You really look brave and strong. One would know that you could dothings."

  "I've always had to do things."

  They came up to the party who had stopped to camp for the night. Itwas a clear warm evening. After they had hobbled the horses in a nearmeadow flat, Jack and his father made a lean-to for the women andchildren and roofed it with bark. Then they cut wood and built a fireand gathered boughs for bedding. Later, tea was made and beefsteaksand bacon grilled on spits of green birch, the dripping fat beingcaught on slices of toasting bread whereon the meat was presentlyserved.

  The masterful power with which the stalwart youth and his father swungthe ax and their cunning craftsmanship impressed the English woman andher daughter and were soon to be the topic of many a London tea party.Mrs. Hare spoke of it as she was eating her supper.

  "It may surprise you further to learn that the boy is fairly familiarwith the Aeneid and the Odes of Horace and the history of France andEngland," said John Irons.

  "That is the most astonishing thing I have ever heard!" she exclaimed."How has he done it?"

  "The minister was his master until we went into the bush. Then I hadto be farmer and school-teacher. There is a great thirst for learningin this New World."

  "How do you find time for it?"

  "Oh, we have leisure here--more than you have. In England even yourwealthy young men are over-worked. They dine out and play cards untilthree in the morning and sleep until midday. Then luncheon and thecock fight and tea and Parliament! The best of us have only threesteady habits. We work and study and sleep."

  "And fight savages," said the woman.

  "We do that, sometimes, but it is not often necessary. If it were notfor white savages, there would be no red ones. You would find Americaa good country to live in."

  "At least I hope it will be good to sleep in this night," the womananswered, yawning. "Dreamland is now the only country I care for."

  The ladies and children, being near spent by the day's travel andexcitement, turned in soon after supper. The men slept on theirblankets, by the fire, and were up before daylight for a dip in
thecreek near by. While they were getting breakfast, the women andchildren had their turn at the creekside.

  That day the released captives were in better spirits. Soon after noonthe company came to a swollen river where the horses had some swimmingto do. The older animals and the following colts went through allright, but the young stallion which Jack and Margaret were riding,began to rear and plunge. The girl in her fright jumped off his backin swift water and was swept into the rapids and tumbled about and putin some danger before Jack could dismount and bring her ashore.

  "You have increased my debt to you," she said, when at last they weremounted again. "What a story this is! It is terribly exciting."

  "Getting into deeper water," said Jack. "I'm not going to let youspoil it by drowning."

  "I wonder what is coming next," said she.

  "I don't know. So far it's as good as _Robinson Crusoe_."

  "With a book you can skip and see what happens," she laughed. "But weshall have to read everything in this story. I'd love to know allabout you."

  He told her with boyish frankness of his plans which included learningand statesmanship and a city home. He told also of his adventures inthe forest with his father.

  Meanwhile, the elder John Irons and Mrs. Hare were getting acquaintedas they rode along. The woman had been surprised by the man's intimateknowledge of English history and had spoken of it.

  "Well, you see my wife is a granddaughter of Horatio Walpole ofWolterton and my mother was in a like way related to Thomas Pitt so yousee I have a right to my interest in the history of the home land,"said John Irons.

  "You have in your veins some of the best blood of England and so I amsure that you must be a loyal subject of the King," Mrs. Hare remarked.

  "No, because I think this German King has no share in the spirit of hiscountry," Irons answered. "Our ancient respect for human rights andfair play is not in this man."

  He presented his reasons for the opinion and while the woman made noanswer, she had heard for the first time the argument of the New Worldand was impressed by it.

  Late in the day they came out on a rough road, faring down into thesettled country and that night they stopped at a small inn. At thesupper table a wizened old woman was telling fortunes in a tea cup.

  Miss Hare and her mother drained their cups and passed them to the oldwoman. The latter looked into the cup of the young lady andimmediately her tongue began to rattle.

  "Two ways lie before you," she piped in a shrill voice. "One leads tohappiness and many children and wealth and a long life. It is steepand rough at the beginning and then it is smooth and peaceful. Yes.It crosses the sea. The other way is smooth at the start and then itgrows steep and rough and in it I see tears and blood and dark cloudsand, do you see that?" she demanded with a look of excitement, as shepointed into the cup. "It is a very evil thing. I will tell you nomore."

  The wizened old woman rose and, with a determined look in her face,left the room.

  Mrs. Hare and her daughter seemed to be much troubled by the vision ofthe fortune-teller.

  "I hope you do not believe in that kind of rubbish," John Ironsremarked.

  "I believe implicitly in the gift of second sight," said Mrs. Hare."In England women are so impatient to know their fortunes that theywill not wait upon Time, and the seers are prosperous."

  "I have no faith in it," said Mr. Irons. "What she said might apply tothe future of any young person. Undoubtedly there are two ways aheadof your daughter and perhaps more. Each must choose his own way wiselyor come to trouble. It is the ancient law."

  They rode on next morning in a rough road between clearings in theforest, the boy and girl being again together on the colt's back, shein front.

  "You did not have your fortune told," said Miss Margaret.

  "It _has_ been told," Jack answered. "I am to be married in England toa beautiful young lady. I thought that sounded well and that I hadbetter hold on to it. I might go further and fare worse."

  "Tell me the kind of girl you would fancy."

  "I wouldn't dare tell you."

  "Why?"

  "For fear it would spoil my luck."

  They rode on with light hearts under a clear sky, their spirits playingtogether like birds in the sunlight, touching wings and then flyingapart, until it all came to a climax quite unforeseen. The story hasbeen passed from sire to son and from mother to daughter in a certainfamily of central New York and there are those now living who couldtell it. These two were young and beautiful and well content with eachother, it is said. So it would seem that Fate could not let them alone.

  "We are near our journey's end," said he, by and by.

  "Oh, then, let us go very slowly," she urged.

  Another step and they had passed the hidden gate between reality andenchantment. It would appear that she had spoken the magic words whichhad opened it. They rode, for a time, without further speech, in aland not of this world, although, in some degree, familiar to the bestof its people. Only they may cross that border who have kept much ofthe innocence of childhood and felt the delightful fear of youth thatwas in those two--they only may know the great enchantment. Does itnot make an undying memory and bring to the face of age, longafterward, the smile of joy and gratitude?

  The next word? What should it be? Both wondered and held theirtongues for fear--one can not help thinking--and really they had littleneed of words. The peal of a hermit thrush filled the silence with itsgolden, largo chime and overtones and died away and rang out again andagain. That voice spoke for them far better than either could havespoken, and they were content.

  "There was no voice on land or sea so fit for the hour and the earsthat heard it," she wrote, long afterward, in a letter.

  They must have felt it in the longing of their own hearts and, perhaps,even a touch of the pathos in the years to come. They rode on insilence, feeling now the beauty of the green woods. It had become amagic garden full of new and wonderful things. Some power had enteredthem and opened their eyes. The thrush's song grew fainter in thedistance. The boy was first to speak.

  "I think that bird must have had a long flight sometime," he said.

  "Why?"

  "I am sure that he has heard the music of Paradise. I wonder if youare as happy as I am."

  "I was never so happy," she answered.

  "What a beautiful country we are in! I have forgotten all about thedanger and the hardship and the evil men. Have you ever seen any placelike it?"

  "No. For a time we have been riding in fairyland."

  "I know why," said the boy.

  "Why?"

  "It is because we are riding together. It is because I see you."

  "Oh, dear! I can not see _you_. Let us get off and walk," sheproposed.

  They dismounted.

  "Did you mean that honestly?"

  "Honestly," he answered.

  She looked up at him and put her hand over her mouth.

  "I was going to say something. It would have been most unmaidenly,"she remarked.

  "There's something in me that will not stay unsaid. I love you," hedeclared.

  She held up her hand with a serious look in her eyes. Then, for amoment, the boy returned to the world of reality.

  "I am sorry. Forgive me. I ought not to have said it," he stammered.

  "But didn't you really mean it?" she asked with troubled eyes.

  "I mean that and more, but I ought not to have said it now. It isn'tfair. You have just escaped from a great danger and have got a notionthat you are in debt to me and you don't know much about me anyhow."

  She stood in his path looking up at him.

  "Jack," she whispered. "Please say it again."

  No, it was not gone. They were still in the magic garden.

  "I love you and I wish this journey could go on forever," he said.

  She stepped closer and he put his arm around her and kissed her lips.She ran away a few steps. Then, indeed, they were b
ack on the familiartrail in the thirty-mile bush. A moose bird was screaming at them.She turned and said:

  "I wanted you to know but I have said nothing. I couldn't. I am undera sacred promise. You are a gentleman and you will not kiss me orspeak of love again until you have talked with my father. It is thecustom of our country. But I want you to know that I am very happy."

  "I don't know how I dared to say and do what I did, but I couldn't helpit"

  "I couldn't help it either. I just longed to know if you dared."

  "The rest will be in the future--perhaps far in the future."

  His voice trembled a little.

  "Not far if you come to me, but I can wait--I will wait." She took hishand as they were walking beside each other and added: "_For you_."

  "I, too, will wait," he answered, "and as long as I have to."

  Mrs. Hare, walking down the trail to meet them, had come near. Theirjourney out of the wilderness had ended, but for each a new life hadbegun.

  The husband and father of the two ladies had reached the fort only anhour or so ahead of the mounted party and preparations were being madefor an expedition to cut off the retreat of the Indians. He was knownto most of his friends in America only as Colonel Benjamin Hare--aroyal commissioner who had come to the colonies to inspect and reportupon the defenses of His Majesty. He wore the uniform of a Colonel ofthe King's Guard. There is an old letter of John Irons which says thathe was a splendid figure of a man, tall and well proportioned and aboutforty, with dark eyes, his hair and mustache just beginning to showgray.

  "I shall not try here to measure my gratitude," he said to Mr. Irons."I will see you to-morrow."

  "You owe me nothing," Irons answered. "The rescue of your wife anddaughter is due to the resourceful and famous scout--Solomon Binkus."

  "Dear old rough-barked hickory man!" the Colonel exclaimed. "I hope tosee him soon."

  He went at once with his wife and daughter to rooms in the fort. Thatevening he satisfied himself as to the character and standing of JohnIrons, learning that he was a patriot of large influence andconsiderable means.

  The latter family and that of Peter Bones were well quartered in tentswith a part of the Fifty-Fifth Regiment then at Fort Stanwix. Nextmorning Jack went to breakfast with Colonel Hare and his wife anddaughter in their rooms, after which the Colonel invited the boy totake a walk with him out to the little settlement of Mill River. Jack,being overawed, was rather slow in declaring himself and the Colonelpresently remarked:

  "You and my daughter seem to have got well acquainted."

  "Yes, sir; but not as well as I could wish," Jack answered. "Ourjourney ended too soon. I love your daughter, sir, and I hope you willlet me tell her and ask her to be my wife sometime."

  "You are both too young," said the Colonel. "Besides you have knowneach other not quite three days and I have known you not as many hours.We are deeply grateful to you, but it is better for you and for herthat this matter should not be hurried. After a year has passed, ifyou think you still care to see each other, I will ask you to come toEngland. I think you are a fine, manly, brave chap, but really youwill admit that I have a right to know you better before my daughterengages to marry you."

  Jack freely admitted that the request was well founded, albeit hedeclared, frankly, that he would like to be got acquainted with as soonas possible.

  "We must take the first ship back to England," said the Colonel. "Youare both young and in a matter of this kind there should be no haste.If your affection is real, it will be none the worse for a littlekeeping."

  Solomon Binkus and Peter and Israel and John Bones and some settlersnorth of Horse Valley arrived next day with the captured Indians, who,under a military guard, were sent on to the Great Father at JohnsonCastle.

  Colonel Hare was astonished that neither Solomon Binkus nor John Ironsnor his son would accept any gift for the great service they had donehim.

  "I owe you more than I can ever pay," he said to the faithful Binkus."Money would not be good enough for your reward."

  Solomon stepped close to the great man and said in a low tone:

  "Them young 'uns has growed kind o' love sick an' I wouldn't wonder. Idon't ask only one thing. Don't make no mistake 'bout this 'ere boy.In the bush we have a way o' pickin' out men. We see how they stan' upto danger an' hard work an' goin' hungry. Jack is a reg'lar he-man. Iknow 'em when I see 'em, which--it's a sure fact--I've seen all kinds.He's got brains an' courage, an' a tough arm an' a good heart. He'ddie fer a friend any day. Ye kin't do no more. So don't make nomistake 'bout him. He ain't no hemlock bow. I cocalate there ain't nobetter man-timber nowhere--no, sir, not nowhere in this world--call itking er lord er duke er any name ye like. So, sir, if ye feel likedoin' suthin' fer me--which I didn't never expect it, when I done whatI did--I'll say be good to the boy. You'd never have to be 'shamed o'him."

  "He's a likely lad," said Colonel Hare. "And I am rather impressed byyour words, although they present a view that is new to me. We shallbe returning soon and I dare say they will presently forget each other,but if not, and he becomes a good man--as good a man as his father--letus say--and she should wish to marry him, I would gladly put her handin his."

  A letter of the handsome British officer to his friend, Doctor BenjaminFranklin, reviews the history of this adventure and speaks of thelearning, intelligence and agreeable personality of John Irons. BothColonel and Mrs. Hare liked the boy and his parents and invited them tocome to England, although the latter took the invitation as a mere markof courtesy.

  At Fort Stanwix, John Irons sold his farm and house and stock to PeterBones and decided to move his family to Albany where he could educatehis children. Both he and his wife had grown weary of the lonelinessof the back country, and the peril from which they had been deliveredwas a deciding factor. So it happened that the Irons family andSolomon went to Albany by bateaux with the Hares. It was a delightfultrip in good autumn weather in which Colonel Hare has acknowledged thatboth he and his wife acquired a deep respect "for these sinewy, wise,upright Americans, some of whom are as well learned, I should say, asmost men you would meet in London."

  They stopped at Schenectady, landing in a brawl between Whigs andTories which soon developed into a small riot over the erection of aliberty pole. Loud and bitter words were being hurled between the twofactions. The liberty lovers, being in much larger force, had erectedthe pole without violent opposition.

  "Just what does this mean?" the Colonel asked John Irons.

  "It means that the whole country is in a ferment of dissatisfaction,"said Irons. "We object to being taxed by a Parliament in which we arenot represented. The trouble should be stopped not by force but byaction that will satisfy our sense of injustice--not a very difficultthing. A military force, quartered in Boston, has done great mischief."

  "What liberty do you want?"

  "Liberty to have a voice in the selection of our governors andmagistrates and in the making of the laws we are expected to obey."

  "I think it is a just demand," said the Colonel.

  Solomon Binkus had listened with keen interest.

  "I sucked in the love o' liberty with my mother's milk," he said. "Yemustn't try to make me do nothin' that goes ag'in' my common sense; ifye do, ye're goin' to have a gosh hell o' a time with the ol' manwhich, you hear to me, will last as long as I do. These days thereortn't to be no sech thing 'mong white men as bein' born into captivityan' forced to obey a master, no argeyment bein' allowed. If your wifean' gal had been took erway by the Injuns, that's what would 'a'happened to 'em, which I'm sart'in they wouldn't 'a' liked it, ner younuther, which I mean to say it respectful, sir."

  The Colonel wore a look of conviction.

  "I see how you feel about it," he said.

  "It's the way all America feels about it," said Irons. "There are notfive thousand men in the colonies who would differ with that view."

  Having arrived in the river city, John Irons went, with his
family, toThe King's Arms. That very day the Hares took ship for New York ontheir way to England. Jack and Solomon went to the landing with them.

  "Where is my boy?" Mrs. Irons asked when Binkus returned alone.

  "Gone down the river," said the latter.

  "Gone down the river!" Mrs. Irons exclaimed. "Why! Isn't that hecoming yonder?"

  "It's only part o' him," said Solomon. "His heart has gone down theriver. But it'll be comin' back. It 'minds me o' the fust time Ithrowed a harpoon into a sperm whale. He went off like a bullet an'sounded an' took my harpoon an' a lot o' good rope with him an' gotaway with it. Fer days I couldn't think o' nothin' but that 'erewhale. Then he b'gun to grow smaller an' less important. Jack haslost his fust whale."

  "He looks heart-broken--poor boy!"

  "But ye orto have seen her. She's got the ol' harpoon in her side an'she were spoutin' tears an' shakin' her flukes as she moved away."