True to the Old Flag (Historical Novels - American Cycle). G. A. Henty

      "Hullo, Jake! is that you?" a familiar voice asked. "What the tarnal is up now?"

      Jake hastily related what had taken place.

      "Tarnation!" Peter exclaimed. "This is a bad job. They're making, no doubt, for Finchley's Ford, fifteen mile down the river. With an hour's start they're sure to be there before us."

      "What are you going to do, Peter? Are you thinking of running wid de cavalry?"

      "Thinking of running to the moon!" the scout said contemptuously. "You can run well, I don't deny, Jake, but you couldn't run fifteen mile with the dragoons; and, if you could, you'd get there too late. Yer bellows are going pretty fast already. Now don't stand staring there, but hurry through the camp and get all our boys together. Tell them to meet by the water side. Get Gregory and Vincent's men as well as our own. There's twenty or thirty altogether in the place."

      Without asking a question Jake ran off to carry out the orders, and, in a few minutes, twenty-four men were collected together on the bank.

      "Now, you fellows," Peter said, "we've got to rescue these two chaps out of the hands of the Yankees. Them who don't want to jine—and mind you the venture is a risky one—had better say so at once and stop behind."

      No one moved.

      "What I propose is this: we'll take the ferryboat, which aint no good to no one, seeing as how the Yankees are on one side of the river and we the other, and we'll drop down the stream about ten mile. Then we'll land on their side of the river and strike inland, hiding the boat under the bushes somewhere. They'll halt for the night when they're safe across the river. There's five or six hundred of their infantry camped on the ford. There's two hundred on our side, but the Yankees'll ride through in the dark and get across before the redcoats are awake. Now, I propose that, after we've landed, we make a sweep round until we get near the Yanks' camp. Then the rest'll wait and two or three of us'll go in and see if we can't get the young fellows out of wherever they've put 'em. Then we'll jine you and make a running fight of it back to the boat."

      The others assented. The boat was amply large enough for all, and, pulling her out into the stream, they dropped down, keeping under shelter of the trees on the British side. Half an hour after they had started they heard the faint sound of distant musketry.

      "There," Peter said, "the Yanks are riding through the British camp, close to the ford."

      A few more shots were heard, and then all was silent. The stream was swift, for it was swollen by recent rains, and at three in the morning the boat touched the bank about a mile above the ford. The party disembarked noiselessly and, fastening the boat to a tree, moved along toward the camp.

      When they were within four or five hundred yards of the village Peter chose Jake and two others of his band, and, telling the rest to remain where they were, ready for action, he struck inland. He made a détour and came in at the back of the camp.

      Here there were no sentries, as the only danger to be apprehended was upon the side of the river. Peter therefore entered boldly. In front of the principal house a sentry was walking up and down, and he, in the free-and-easy manner usual in the American army, gladly entered into conversation with the newcomers.

      "All pretty quiet about here?" Peter asked. "We're from the West, and have jest come down to do a little fighting with the Britishers. I reckon they aint far off now?"

      "They are just across the river," the sentry said. "Have you come far?"

      "We've made something like two hundred mile this week, and mean to have a day or two's rest before we begin. We've done some Injun fighting, my mates and me, in our time, and we says to ourselves it was about time we burned a little powder against the redcoats. Things seem quiet enough about here. Nothing doing, eh?"

      "Not much," the sentry said; "just skirmishes. Some of our cavalry came across through the redcoats late to-night. I hear they have got a quantity of plunder and some fine horses, and they have brought in a couple of the British scouts."

      "And what have they done with 'em?" Peter asked. "Strung 'em up, I suppose."

      "No, no; we aint fighting Indians now; we don't hang our prisoners. No, they are safe under guard over there in the cavalry camp, and will be taken to headquarters to-morrow."

      "Waal," Peter said, stretching himself, "I feel mighty tired and shall jest look for a soft place for an hour's sleep before morning."

      So saying he sauntered away, and the sentry resumed his walk.

      Peter and his three companions now moved off toward the spot where, as the sentry had indicated, the cavalry were encamped. They were not in tents, but were sleeping wrapped up in their blankets. Two tents had been erected, lent probably by the infantry on the spot. One was much larger than the other, and sentries were placed before each. They had some difficulty in making their way, for the night was dark, and the cavalry had picketed their horses without order or regularity. In their search they had to use great caution to avoid stumbling over the sleeping men, but at last they saw the tents faintly against the sky. They crawled cautiously up. There were two sentries on the smaller tent.

      "Now, Jake," Peter whispered, "you're the blackest and so had better do the trick. Don't cut a hole in the tent, for they'd be safe to hear the canvas tear. Crawl under. It's been put up in haste and aint likely to be pinned down very tight. They're safe to be bound, and when you've cut the cords and given them time to get the use of their feet, then crawl along and jine us."

      Jake did as he was instructed. One of the sentries was pacing up and down before the entrance, the other making a circuit round the tent. The circle was a somewhat large one to avoid stumbling over the tent ropes. Jake, watching his opportunity, had no difficulty in crawling up and squeezing himself under the canvas before the sentry returned.

      "Hush!" he whispered, as he let the canvas fall behind him. "It's Jake."

      Both the captives were fast asleep. Jake, feeling about in the darkness, found them, one after the other, and, putting his hands on their mouths to prevent them making an exclamation, he woke them, and soon cut the cords with which they were bound hand and foot. Then in whispers he told them what had happened. They chafed their limbs to produce circulation, for they had been tightly tied, and then, one by one, they crawled out of the tent.

      Harvey went first and was safely across before the sentry returned. Harold followed; but, as he went, in his hurry he struck a tent rope.

      "What's that?" the sentry in front asked sharply. "Bill, was that you?"

      "No," his comrade replied. "Something's up. Look into the tent."

      And, so saying, he ran round behind, while the sentry in front rushed into the tent and, kicking about with his feet, soon found that it was empty.

      Jake, on hearing the exclamation, at once crawled from the tent; but, as he did so, the sentry, running round, saw him and leveled his rifle. Before he could fire a shot was heard and the man fell dead.

      Jake started to his feet and joined his friends. The other sentry also discharged his rifle, and the whole camp awoke and sprang to their feet. The horses, alarmed at the sudden tumult, plunged and kicked; men shouted and swore, everyone asking what was the matter. Then loud cries were heard that the sentry was shot and the prisoners had escaped.

      Running closely together and knocking down all who stood in their way, the fugitives hurried in the darkness until at the edge of the camp, and then started at full speed.

      The trumpets were now sounding to horse, and several shots were fired after them. Many of the horses had not been unsaddled, and mounted men at once dashed off. Several had seen the little party rush away, and the horsemen were speedily on their track. The six men ran at the top of their speed and were soon close to their hidden friends.

      "This way! this way! I see them!" shouted a voice, which Harold and Harvey recognized as that of their enemy, who, a minute later, galloped up with half a dozen troopers. It was not until he was within a few yards that his figure was clearly discernible; then Peter Lambton's rifle flashed out, and the planter fell from his horse