BEADLE & ADAMS’ 20 CENT NOVELS.

 

Vol. II] Published Monthly. (No. 15.

Mad Dan, the Spy of "76.

BY '"M. QUAD,” of the ‘Detroit Free Press.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y.

 

 

 

 
 
z

 
 
Vox. II.] [No. 15.

MAD DAN,

 

THH SPY OF Tf(6.

A CENTENNIAL STORY.

BY C. B. LEWIS,
(“M. Quap” or THE MicHIGAN PrEss.)

NEW YORK

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISILERS,
os WILLIAM STREET,

  
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
BEADLE AND ADAMS,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

 
MAD DAN,

THE SPY OF 1746.

CHAPTER I.
WELL DEFENDED.

‘‘Wuar ails thee, Daniel? Why running at this break-
neck pace, as if thou hadst seen a ghost or a Britisher?”

““T don’t want to tell!”

“Daniel, thou knowest that it would pain me to proceed

to extreme measures, but I hope thou realizest the necessity
of answering my inquiry without unnecessary delay. If
thou dost not, I shall proceed to make thee!”
_ “ There’s a pile of soldiers coming up the road on horses!
When I get rich, ’m going to have a jacket braided with
yellow, and a horse, and a sword and spurs, and I’m going
to gallop over everybody, and jingle my spurs and wave my
swerd.”

It was in the summer of the year of our Lord 1780. Lord
Cornwallis and his army of red-coats were creeping down
through North Carolina, and General Tarleton, his rough-and-
ready cavalry leader, was scouting along the base of the Alle-
ghanies in search of Major Williams’ Mountain Militia.

There had been five dreary, bitter years of war, but this was
the first invasion of that neighborhood by British forces. De
Kalb and Gates had been defeated in the State, and most of
their commands taken prisoners; detachments of British were

 

 

 
10 MAD DAN,

advancing up the Savannah, Saluda and Santee rivers, driv-
ing the Americans before them; Washington was calling out
the militia of Virginia and North Carolina, and the Tories,
North and South, thought;they could see the end of the war
and the re-establishment of the king’s rule throughout the
Colonies.

_ It was a period of anxiety, doubt and. distress for all pa-
triotic hearts, and thousands were ready to give up the cause
for which they had so long and manfully battled.

Just beyond where the two speakers stood was a stout log-
cabin, the home of Parson Warner. He was a stout, active
man, in the prime of life, slow of speech, a pleasant face,
and almost a hermit in his everyday life: He had come
among the mountaineers several years before the breaking
out of the war, his simple Quaker manners readily attracting
their esteem and friendship, and he had acted. as the pastor
of the little church up the base of the mountain, nursed the
sick, prayed with the dying, and advised with the distressed,
until ‘‘ Parson Warner” was a familiar name for a score of
miles up and down the base. Although strongly sympathiz-
ing with Washington and his cause, the Parson had not taken
up arms, but had urged enlistments, in defiance of his creed,
and had willingly acted as a scout or messenger when he could
forward information of value.

The mountaineers, hardy, patriotic fellows, had turned out
to a man, leaving the Parson almost alone. Sometimes,
broken up as guerrilla bands, they were out of sight of their
mountain homes for weeks, and again, consolidated as a regi-
ment, they swept along the mountain’ base and cleared away
the bands of Tories and detachments of British soldiers which
had come to burn, murder and destroy, Of these bold
mountaineers, Murray, the English historian, says in his
History of the United States:

   

    
THE spy oF 1776. ti

‘“The borderers who roved along the sides of the Alleghany
were, if possible, ruder and bolder than the boys of the
Green Mountain. They rode on light, fleet horses, carrying
only their rifle, a blanket and knapsack. Food was procured
by the gun, or, on its occasional failure, from a small herd
of cattle driven before them. At night the earth was their
bed, the sky their canopy. They thus moved with a swift-
ness which no ordinary troops could rival.”

The advance of Lord Cornwallis into North Carolina had
driven these borderers back from the southern line of the
State, and they were gathering along the base of the moun-
tain to defend their homes. From the main army, thirty or
forty miles to the east, Cornwallis had dispatched Tarleton to
scout along the base of the mountain, with private instruc:
tions to apply the torch to. every farm-house and cabin whose
inmates were suspected of disloyalty to the king.

The person addressed by the parson as Daniel was a young
man of twenty, known to the mountaineers as ‘‘ Crazy Dan.”
He was a harmless, good-natured lunatic, except when hard
pressed, and many a night, when the cold wind whistled.
over the mountain, or the rain fell, had he been given the
safe shelter of. the Parson’s cabin. He knew that war ex-
isted, but he was unfit for a recruit, and had been left be-
hind to run of errands and do odd jobs for the families of
those fighting at the front. He was making for the Par-
son’s cabin when encountered by the Quaker, who saw from
the boy’s actions that he had made some important dis-
covery. The approach of the British raiders had been an-
ticipated, and the Parson was a little nervous as he recom-
menved his questioning.

“How far back was it, Daniel, that thou sawest these
red-coats of whom thou hast spoken?”

‘“‘ Back there where the other road crosses,” replied Dan,

“Did they evince a disposition to come this way?”

 

 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

 

i2 MAD DAN,

The sentence was too much for the boy, and he made no
reply.

“T had forgotten for the moment that thy brain was
weak,” continued the Parson, ‘‘and I will put it in another
form. Didst thou see—”

The Parson heard the jingling of spurs and sabers dowr
the road, and he paused in his query. The two stood where

- they commanded a view of the road for half a mile above

and directly they caught sight of a score of British cavalry
trotting toward them. The Parson saw at once that they
would pass his cabin if they came on, and he seized the
boy’s hand and said:

““There is some need of haste at this moment, my son.
It is my belief that we should -reach the cabin without un-
necessary delay, and as we run, Daniel, I think it wisdom
to inform thee that there may be need of burning some
powder to drive them away. I shall depend upon thee to
aid me if it so be that Iam called upon to use weapons
instead of words to convince these horsemen of the necessity
of attending to their own worldty affairs!”

The young man carried ’a light rifle in his hand, and the
Parson, as a protection against wild animals, and as a means
of furnishing his table, had a trusty rifle and a good musket
hanging to hooks under his cabin roof.

They reached the cabin after a short run, and the door was
made fast, the heavy shutters bolted over the windows, and
the wooden plugs taken from the loop-holes, which the Par-
son had prepared only a few days before.

“Thou mayest place the powder, the slugs, the bullets
and the other stuff on the table,” said the Parson, as he fin-
ished barricading the cabin. ‘‘If I should be catled upon
to fire, thou mayest be called upon to load.”

The lunatic placed the powder-horns on the table, emptied

  

gg

nee reorient

  
   

     

THE spy or 1776. 18

out bullets and slugs, took off the covers of the cap-boxes,
and waited further orders. The Parson, with his eye to
one of the loop-holes, presently caught sight of the soldiers.
They raised a shout as they came in sight of the lone cabin,
and two of the men leaped off their horses to burn it while
the others sat in their saddles. There was a full score of
them, but the cabin was strong and Parson Warner’s heart
brave and stout. As the two men approached he called
from a loop-hole:

“Thou hadst better go back.”

The men paused at hearing a voice from the hut they

supposed to be deserted, but after a moment advanced

straight to the door and demanded the surrender of all in-
side.

“Thou wouldst gain nothing by my surrender,” replied
the Parson; ‘‘ while thou wilt gain much by pursuing thy
ride and minding thy business. Again I advise thee to
pass on.” :

“Open this door or we’ll kick it in!” shouted one of the
soldiers.

““T advise thee not to injure thy feet by kicking,” replied
the Parson. ‘‘ The door is stout, and it will not come down
or be opened.” :

‘“ Open, or we'll burn the house down!” called the
other soldier, gathering a handful of dry twigs to make a
torch.

“Tf thou attemptst to fire my house, I shall make use of
powder and ball to prevent!” called the Parson.

The horses were left in the road in charge of two soldiers,
and the balance of the troop crowded around the house, ex-
cited at the prospect of smoking out a patriot. The soldier’s
torch was ablaze and he was approaching the a oe
the Parson called out:
  

14 MAD DAN,

“‘ My friend, if thou touchest fire to this cabin, thy com-
panions will 9e called upon to mourn thy demise!”

“ Smoke “im out! Roast the old chap alive!” called out
the soldiers.

The man idvanced’ with the torch; but had not reached
the cabin’ wen a. flash of fire leaped from a port-hole, and

“he fell to ie ground, shot through the head.

“ Danie}, thou mayest reload this, if thou pleasest,” said the
Parson, kwveding over the empty rifle and receiving another,

CHAPTER If.
LOYAL TO KING GEORGE.

Five or six miles to: the east of Parson Warner's cabin
was a broad, well-kept farm, and a comfortable, old-fash-
ioned. tarm-house.. Everybody along the mountain knew
the place as ‘‘The Graham Farm,” and everybody for
miles around: knew Stephen Graham and pretty Mollie his
daughter,

Tne farmer was a cold, calculating man, rich, austere,
ana he valued friendship as worth so much in pounds, shil-
lings and: pence. People knew him, but did not esteem him,
while Mollie was universally respected by the old, and rev-
erenced by the yoang. Nature could hardly have: played a
more eccentric freak than when it gave her, the daughter
of such a man, a happy, handsome face and a warm, gener-
ous heart. People often complained that Stephen Graham
was haughty, avaricious, and none too honest in his deal-
ings, but it. was never said that he did not love his daugh-
ter; that would have been an untruth. His only ehild,

  
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
      

eg enn n
tH spy oF 1776. 15

keen and intelligent, loving and sympathetic, humoring his
whims and obedient to his slightest wish, how could he help
to look upon her kindly?

Besides, there were times when the father, cold and un-
movable as, he seemed,,sat down by himself and went back
over the past. When the dead years came back, he saw in
them the patient, loving face, of his dead wife, who had been
a true help-meet to him. Dying, she had held up to him the
infant form ef the daughter, and said:

“Stephen, I charge you;to bea, father to her—a kind,
tender father. There is a hereafter, and ,at.the Bar of God
I shall call you to answer if you have not done well by my ~
child!” ;

The country folks could say many other things and have
truth on their side,.but they could, not charge him with be-
ing a bad parent. He was never married again; a relative
came across the ocean.to care for his house, and the house
aid its inmates had.been well cared for. :

There had. neyer been , harsh, rancorous words between
Graham and his neighbors until the. mother country forced
the Colonies into rebellion and ,then sought to conquer
them. His voice was raised ,in defense of every,action of
King George, and. though there were hundreds in Carolina
who thought and spake.as he did, he was alone in his own
neighborhood. The mountaineers, to a man, were loud in
their praises of the Colonial insurgents, and when the time
came for something more weighty than words, they were
ready with their rifles. The first year of the war had not
drawn to a close before half his neighbors were with Wash-
ington.

Stephen Graham was too old to march or ride, but he
was not too old to glory in the name of Tory, to feel that
the country should .be.rid of all who,did not. think as he .

 

 
 

   
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

 

 

 

 

  

16 MAD DAN,

did, and to open his heart and give to King George’s causd
whenever asked to contribute. There were times when his
patriotic neighbors felt like forcing him to be silent, and
like revenging on him for exulting over the death of some
acquaintance who had fallen at the front while battling for
the Patriot cause, but the thought of Mollie always restrained
their hands. He was her father, say what he pleased, and
thus he was safe. The grim front of war had never passed
along the mountain’s base, and there were wetks at a time
when father and daughter would have forgotten that war
existed, but for the sight of an occasional courier or a call
from a Tory.

When the war broke out, Mollie Graham was a lassie of
sixteen, and without a lover. The father must have known
that all the young men of the neighborhood admired her,
but had he caught a “spark” in his parlor it would have
been ill for the young man. He expected to see her married,
after a time, but he shut his teeth together hard when ‘he
whispered to himself that she should never marry any one
along the mountain, or in the colonies, for that matter.
She, his only child, must make a good match. He hada
respectable name, if not a titled one, thousands of wealth,
and when Mollie was eighteen or nineteen he would dispose
of his property and return to England to. find her a hus-
‘band. :

Not a hint of his future intentions reached the daughter,
‘cand he did not mean that she should know his plans until he
«could no longer keep them secret. .

Up to the second year of the war, when she was seventeen,
“he had failed to discover that she had a thought of love.

‘Sharp as Stephen Graham thought himself, Cupid had out-
Ywitted him.
Among those who had an errand occasionally at the farm-

   

 

 

  

 
  

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* ae spy or 1776. 17

\

 

house was Guy Tracy, a young man of twenty, the son of a
widow, and as lithe of limb and strong of heart as any man
in the country. The widow was not rich, but she was far
from being poor, and Guy was an only child. If his mother
was.proud of him she had many reasons to be, for he was a

filial son, keeping only such company as he might bring to
his own fireside without a blush.

“There was no understanding, no engagement between Guy
Tracy and Mollie Graham until two years after she had seen
him ride away to war as Captain Tracy. It wasa quiet

* neighborhood around the mountain, and the farmer did not

fear to see his daughter ride out during the long summer
afternoons, nor did he question her route. If she rode to the
Tracy farm, and rejoiced with the widow over the success of
the Colonial arms, or wept with her at Washington’s disas-
ters, reading a friendly letter from Guy, and writing one in
return, the father remained in blissful ignorance of the
fact.

At his own fireside, as at the country store on the corner,
Stephen Graham was loud in his denunciation of the rebels,
and strong in his support of the British cause. He could
not expect his daughter to exhibit his rancor, on the one
hand, and his admiration on the other, but the idea that she
might possibly not agree with his sentiments in general never
came to his mind. Given the choice, he would rather have
seen her carried to the grave than to have known that she
supported the cause of the Colonists.

One day, three years and more after the breaking out of
the war, Mollie found a visitor at the Tracy house; Guy had
come home with a bullet in his shoulder; and there he was,
with his arm in a sling and his white face showing his suffer-
ings. There had been friendship and admiration ' before—
there were love and pity now. They bardly knew how it

    
“MAD DAN,

came about; but they had promised each other and were
very happy before Mollie rode: homeward.

Could Stephen Graham: have disposed of his: property at
this: time; he would have left the country. ~He- stood alone
among his. neighbors, hating and: being hated; and the cause
of the king prospered so slowly, that he had-his doubts: if

_ royal rule would ever be re-established: inithe Colonies. He
was not so content.as:in formen years, and his daughter had
greatly changed from:the merry, light-heartedigirl. | But:there
was no: one to! buy him out, and he must either remain*where
he was or go away and: leave his: home to: fall: into ruins.

So he remained, hoping that the-endof every month would
be theend of the war, sometimes:cast down, sometimes:exul-
tant, but always:a Tory in thought and speech.

Guy’s. wound healed after a time, and:he went back to the
army. The weeks dragged to months, and the months made
years, and; yet the cause of the Colonists was’ not established,
and the time seemed as far distant as when the first blow was
struck. Guy came home once; more, wounded again as he
led a-gallant charge;,and. this time, only a year- before~ the
opening of our story, Stephen Graham-had his eyes.opened to
the fact that his-daughter loved a rebel. The muttered sen-
tences of. Crazy Dan gave, him:a hint) that. Guy Tracy was
home, and.he:‘made bold to visit the widow’s farm. He
found lis. daughter there, and» he found that: she loved. the
wounded captain.

‘We will go home, daughter!” he said, after. his first shock
of surprise, and as:they rode homeward, he continued:

‘Have you.promised to be-his wife?”

“Thave!” she answered.

‘‘And you, intend,to.keep your. promise?”

**T.do!”

‘‘T will.see-you buried? first!” he exclaimed;. “‘ you should

sitanemmmnnencensisillsipaiataniiitica Sal elie

 

    

 
   
    
imei

THE spy, oF 1776. 19

not marry him.even if he were not a rebel; and, daughter of
mine as you are, I would, become your executioner before I
would permit. you to, wed one whose bullets have struck down
the supporters of-our good King George! Banish all thoughts
of him this moment, for you have had your, last meeting!”

CHAPTER. il.
THE CAPTAIN’S RETURN,

Ficurine as they. fell, back, the Colonial forces along the
Southern line of the. State retreated before. the advancing
forces of Cornwallis. The cavalry band, commanded by
Captain Tracy, was ordered back to the Alleghany ridge, to
protect their homes, and they were but a few hours in ad-
vance. of the British cavalry under. Tarleton.

Guy had not seen his promised bride for, over a year. Ever
since her father ascertained that she loved. the rebel he had
kept her almost like a prisoner. Neyer singe the day he
found her at. the widow’s. farm-house had. he referred to. the
fact, nor had he pleaded. with or threatened her. What he
had.said he had said, and his words, could, not be reypked.
Phe trust and confidence. between them had been destroyed,
and both felt it, but. she was. no. less.a, daughter to him, and
he no less a father. to her.

Qnce in a great, while she found opportunity to write and
mail a letter to her soldier lover; and once, in a while Crazy
Dan brought her an answer, which the captain’s pen had traced,

‘“‘ Wait until the war closes,” he. would write, ‘‘ then I
shall come back and, claim, you, if Lam. spared, no matter
what obstacles stand in my path;” and her answer was always
the same, ‘‘ I am waiting.”

 

 

 
    
 

   

eS MAD DAN,

Stephen Graham saw. none of these letters, and as the
months went by, he almost forgot the unpleasant episode
which had so arousedhim. Narrowly watching his daughter,
he came to believe that she had given up her rebel captain, and
that her love for him had been but a momentary passion.
Congratulating himself on the thought, he was resolved that
another opportunity to fall in love with an enemy to his king
should never come to her.

‘‘Now for the end of the war!” he said, as he entered the
house one day after talking with a courier at the gate. ‘“‘ The
rebels are falling back like sheep, and Cornwallis is coming
this way with his army! Before the week is out we shall
see plenty of red-coats riding by in pursuit of the flying Col-
onists!”

He noticed that she turned pale, and he hastened to reas-
asure her by saying:

‘¢ We have no cause for fear; it isn’t likely that there will
be a battle near here, because the rebels will be too fright-
ened to make a halt this side of Virginia.”

He was exultant and enthusiastic, having waited the news
several years, but she was strangely silent, and refused to re-
joice with him. Noticing this, he said:

‘‘Why, one would think that you were a rebel yourself!”

‘“‘ War is a terrible thing!” she replied, ‘‘ and no one should
rejoice over wounds, suffering and death.”

Her heart beat faster at the thought of the return of her
lover, but ached as she reflected that he might come back to
die. If the Colonists were retreating, they would retreat no
further than the mountain in plain sight. The men would
halt there and defend their homes, against all odds, and the
smoke of battle might even enshroud the farm-house.

They were coming back, and in less than half a day after
Stephen Graham gave his daughter the news that small parties

 

 
THE SPY OF 1776. 21

of American cavalry were riding past the farm-house. In
less than twenty-four hours the command of Captain ‘Tracy
had passed at a gallop, hurrying to remove the women and
children in the farm-houses along the base to safe quarters in
the heart of the mountain. Their guidons were hardly out
of sight before three companies of British cavalry, pursuing
under the personal lead of Tarleton, halted in front of the
farm-house.

The farmer was at-the gate to wave his hat, and cheer and
welcome them. When it was ascertained that the Colonists
had had time to reach the mountain, Tarleton swung himself
from his horse, saying:

“We will rest and recruit to-night, and to-morrow we will
advance and leave a heap of ashes to mark the site of every
house and cabin along the range.”

They were welcome guests, and while the rank and file
were quartered in the fields, the officers took possession of
the house. The daughter had witnessed their arrival, but
she had not rejoiced with her father. Hastening to her

chamber, she would have avoided them if possible, but he

forced her to go down-stairs, and act the part of hos-
tess.

““My daughter, gentlemen,” he said, as he led her into the
parlor where the rude men were lounging, smoking and
drinking.

‘Hip! hip! hip!” they cried, stamping their feet in ad-
miration, and all rose up and insisted upon shaking hands.
The father was a little put out at their rudeness, but he
found excuses for their conduct, and when he could speak
ta her privately, he said:

‘“‘T desire you to look as charming as you can, and to be
as friendly as you may, for it is not often that we shall
have such distinguished company. There is hardly one of

 
  

Pea

   

22 MAD DAN,

the officers who will not have a title some day, and your fu-
ture husband may be among them.”

Outside her father’s house she would have called them .

ruffians, but the rules of hospitality forced her to act as
hostess and provide for their hunger. The servants ran
here and there, food was prepared, the farmer passed around
his liquors, and the house soon had the appearance of a
country tavern.

Among the officers was a Captain Lisle, a man.of thirty,
whose gross features, loaferish swagger and familiur talk
would have incited contempt in the mind of any woman.
He had been loudest in cheering the farmer’s daughter, and
rudest in his speech of welcome, and a feeling of deep aver-
sion was. at once created toward him: Yet, what struck
the daughter so unpleasantly had the. opposite effect upon
the father, He saw in the captain a true type of the British
soldier if not the British gentleman, and While listening to
the officer’s exaggerated stories of his personal prowess, the
farmer almost forgot that any one else: was present. As
the two sat at the table, both the worse for liquor, the officer
said:

“You have a lovely daughter—the handsomest woman I
ever saw.”

‘Yes, and she’s as good,as she is handsome,” replied the
father, a little proudly. ;

“ And she has no lover?” replied the captain.

* Lots of them, but she loves. no one in return.”

‘“How would a captain in his majesty’s service suit you
for a son-in-law?” continued, the soldier.

‘© By George! I should be proud of you!” exclaimed
the farmer, extending his hand: ‘‘ you, have my permission
to pay your addresses to her, and after the war we will all go
back to England together!”

   
   
   
  
 
  
   
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
  

 

 

 
 

pane Ae

THE spy or 1776. 23

It was a speech which farmer Graham would not have
thought of making under ‘any-other circumstances. The
worse for drink, exulting’ in the success of the king’s arms,
and feeling that there were no better men than English sol-
diers, he lost his sober senses.

The news went round the table that Captain Lisle had
“arranged” to become son-in-law to the hospitable host, and
the men clattered their glasses and cheered. :

““Here’s to Mollie-Lisle!” -eried one, -holding up his glass,
and all drank.

Standing in the other room, only a few feet away, the
girl had heard enough to explain the cheer. While her
father might have been foolish under the influence’ of his
excitement, she knew that he had long entertained the hope
that she would wed a British officer, and that, when his
sober moment came, he would not repent of his action.
In all his plannings he Had never taken‘ her feelings into
consideration. He was to select the husband and she was
to be the bride, whether she loved’ or abhorred.

Distressed and fearful, the girl was wondering what step
to take, when some one touched her arm. It was Crazy
Dan, and his eyes sparkled with anticipation: as’ he whis-
Pered:

“Captain Tracy sent’me; he is all safe; he says he will
come some night to see you!”

“Daniel!” she whispered, seizing his arm and speaking
earnestly, ‘“‘ can you find the captain this evening?”

*Yes’m.”

“Then go back and tell'him, if ‘he has a hundred men,
to come down the road to-night and fall upon these red-
Coats. Tell him that the officers will be in the house. If
you will do this, 1 will buy you a’sword!”

4

 
  

 

 

 

   

24 MAD DAN,

““T will! I will!” he whispered, leaping around. ‘Oh!
itll be so nice to have a big sword, and to jingle it,
and slash and cut! Ill come back with him and see the
fight!”

CHAPTER“ FV3
THE PARSON’S PERIL.

‘‘Tiey should have known that I would fire!” mused
the Quaker, as he heard the soldiers’ fierce shouts for re-
venge.

A dozen carbines were discharged at the door, and the
men began gathering brush and lightwood for a fire.

‘Dost thou intend to burn me out?” called the Parson,
from a loop-hole.

“Burn him out! Burn him out!” yelled the soldiers,
firing at the orifice.

“Tt seemeth strange that they can not take warning,” said
the old man, as he took up the heavily loaded shot-gun.

Three soldiers were in a group, bent over a pile of brush,
and as he pushed the gun out and pressed the trigger the
center man leaped up and fell back a corpse, while one of
the others was wounded.

There was a terrible yelling from the rest of the soldiers,
who drew to one side out of range. They had counted on
an easy victory over the old man, and had seemed to think
that the death of the first soldier was more the result of ac-
cident. than from any determination on his. part to resist
them. Now assured that he meant to defend his cabin to
the last, and having a wholesome respect for his weapons,

 

 

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

THE spy or 1776. 95

they gathered on the south side of the building behind the
¥ocks, and the leader called out:

‘“' Throw open the door or we will burn your roost over
your head!”

There was a loop-hole on that side, and putting his mouth
to the orifice, the Parson shouted back:

““Thou speakest boldly and unmannerly, and I will an-
swer thee likewise; I will not open the door, and I will give
thee powder and lead in place of kind advice!”

The soldiers were not long in ascertaining that there was
Only one loop-hole on that side, and that they could gain a
corner of the hut and be safe from his weapons. More
brush was collected, and at length they had a large pile of it
packed against the cabin ready to fire.

The Parson’s ears had kept track of their movements, and
when he saw that he was to be driven out, he said to the
boy: :
“Daniel, the wicked are about to triumph, but their vic-
tory shall not be for long. We must express our desire to
surrender, and we must. hope that the sinful will spare our
lives until some of our friends come up to rescue us!”

““They will kill us; I know they will!” wailed the boy,
badly frightened.

“Tut! tut! Daniel! Thou hast no right to know any
thing which I do not know. Bear thyself as becomes a
brave boy, and I will speak a good word for thee. Even
the soldiers of the king do not make war on lunatics, and
when thy condition is observed they will bid thee go thy way.”

“Will you surrender?” called out the leader of the red-
Coats. ‘‘ We give you one more chance!”

“Most assuredly I do!” replied the Parson, “ seeing that
thou hast obtained an undue advantage!”

“ Open the door, then!” called the soldier.

 

  
 

 

 

 

26 MAD DAN,

“T shall do so, and I-hope that none of thy.men will
display unnecessary ebullition of feeling. . We must be con-
sidered prisoners of war!”

The door was unbarred, and the Quaker, unarmed, stood
in the. opening to show ;them. that his surrender was made
in good faith. The soldiers came forward. cautiously until
certain of their prey, and when the prisoners had been dis-
armed-and led out, the men began assaulting: them with fists
and feet.

“ Let us, reason a moment!’ demanded Parson, Warner,
shaking; them off .of him with a strength which astonished
them. ‘‘'The young man there is.a lunatic, scarcely. safe to
be at large,.and itis beneath the calling of a soldier to war
upon him, in any shape!”

The men ceased their assaults,.and were not long in dis-
covering that what he had said .about Dan, was true. , They
questioned the boy, threatened him, and finally decided to
release him, but; they: would not.do.it without first gratifying
their desire to revenge the death of their.comrades.

- The cabin was: fired,,and then the troop moved out to the
highway: where the horses.lad;been left. Dan was tied to
the fence, switches; cut,.and four: or five men applied them
to his back until their arms ached and until his shirt was
red with blood.

‘A lunatic knows what a licking is as well as anybody
else!” said the commander. of the troop. ‘‘ We don’t want
to carry him, off prisoner, but I think he will-respect a British
soldier after this!”

Every one looked;,to.see him scream.and yell, but they
were disappointed. The; hardest. blows had no effect to
make him wince, nor had he a word of-expostulation... The
Parson saw the boy’s eyes blaze like coals-of fire, an¢c-as he
watched him turn, from. one face..to another, he knew that

 
 

 

THE spy oF 1776. 27

Dan was engraving each countenance on his memory so that
he should know them again.

“There, that will do!” said the officer, as the soldiers
had. worn out half a dozen tough switches on the lunatic’s
back. ‘‘ You can go now, young man, and you want. to
look out what company you train in after this!”

Dan put on his coat and started down the road without
a look at any one, or a glance behind. When he was out
of sight around the bend the officer turned his attention to
the Parson. The band were a part of Tarleton’s cavalry,
and had been ordered to come down the mountain road from
Taylorsville and join the main command at the Graham
farm. The afternoon that they captured the Parson’s cabin
was the same afternoon that Tarleton and his cavalry arrived
at Graham’s. The officer inquired of the Parson the way to
Graham’s, about the roads, the mountaineers, and sought to
pump from. him every thing worth knowing.

‘“*I should like to answer thy inquiries if they were pro-
per ones,” replied the prisoner, ‘‘ but I cannot give thee the
information asked for.”

“T can find a way to loosen your tongue if you refuse!”
Said the officer, in a threatening tone.

“‘ With all due respect. for thy inventive genius, 1 beg to
also differ with thee on that point!” calmly replied the Quaker.

“Thrash him! Hang him up! Shoot him!” shouted the
soldiers. .

A rope was procured from one of the saddles, passed over
a limb ¢@nd noosed, and the Parson’s neck was soon sur-
rounded by the rope.

“Now will you answer my questions?” inquired the offi.
cer.

“Thou hadst my answer a short time ago!” replied the
victim. “Lying is a sin to which I am not addicted.”

 

 
  

28 MAD DAN,

‘Pull him up!” said the officer, to the half-dozen men at
the other end of the rope, and they hauled away.

In their haste they had neglected to pinion the prisoner’s
arms, and he no sooner felt himself being choked than he
reached up and seized the rope above his head and released
the strain on his neck. The men lowered him down, some
cursing and some laughing, and his arms were tied behind
his back. The officer did not intend to execute his prisoner,
but he felt justified in choking him until he would surrender
the information asked for.

“Will you answer or not?” he demanded, as the men
were ready to hoist away.

“Having said that I would not, I will not!” replied the
Parson.

The men walked away with the rope, and the prisoner
was slowly hoisted up, kicking and choking. The soldiers
were in a circle around him, all intensely interested, while
their carbines rested against the rocks and fence. With
hardly an instant’s warning, a troop of fifty or sixty Colo-
nists, led by Captain Tracy, came thundering down upon
them, and were cutting, slashing and shooting before a
British carbine had been raised.

There was yelling, shouting, shooting, a cloud of smoke,
sharp commands, clashing sabers, and in two minutes the
fight was over. One-third of the British cavalry were dead
in the road, and the rest flying for their lives.

Guy bent over the Parson, as the smoke lifted, loosened
the rope from his neck, poured a little brandy down his
throat, and the Quaker finally recovered.

“They were going to hang you?” inquired Guy.

“‘Make thy speech still stronger and say that they did
hang me!” replied the Parson.

   
  
 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     
  
 
 
    

 
 

 

 

 

 

thm spy or 1776. 29

CHAPTER V.
DAN DELIVERS A MESSAGE.

Knowrne that Cornwallis would march to the center of
the State without a battle, and that the British cavalry would
seek to burn, destroy and exterminate along the mountain,
Captain Tracy hurried the settlers up the mountain roads as
fast as possible. Some of them left their cabins without
taking more than a bundle of bedding and a basket of pro-
Visions, leaving the labor of years to be converted into ashes
when the red-coats came.

Some set fire to their houses, determined that the British
Should not enjoy that satisfaction, and all live stock was ei-
ther hurried off or shot down. The roads running through
the mountains were wild passes, which a score of men could
defend against a thousand, and there were little valleys
among the rocks where the families could safely tarry until
it was prudent to come out again.

While aiding some of the families up one of the roads,
Captain Tracy encountered Crazy Dan. The boy was run-
ning at full speed and was greatly excited.

Tt was some time before the Colonists could put his dis-
Jointed sentences together and make out what had occurred
and was occurring two miles away. It was not known that
any of the British cavalry had yet appeared in the neighbor-
hood, but Dan’s story could not be doubted, and the greater
Portion of the band followed him down the road to the
South. Their victory was complete without the loss of a
Man. A dozen horses and as many carbines fell into their
hands, and a third of the British were left dead on the road.

 
     
   
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

    

MAD DAN,

‘“Thee arrived at an opportune moment,” said the Parson,
as he regained his feet. ‘‘I do believe that the unregener-.
ated scoundrels would have encompassed my death and then
went their way without. compunction of conscience.”

His acquaintance with the captain had not extended be-
yond a few meetings during the soldier’s tarry at home with
his wound, but there was mutual respect, and the captain’s
admiration for the Parson’s coolness was increased when he
learned how well the cabin had been defended.

The captain called Crazy Dan aside, gave him some in-
structions, and the lmnatic mounted a horse and rode off to-
ward the Graham farm to carry a message to the farmer’s
daughter. The dead soldiers were collected, the one or two
wounded horses put out of their misery, and then the Colo-
nists were ready to go.

“You can make your way to Cold Spring Valley, in the
mountain, and aid the women and children,” said the cap-
tain to Parson Warner, as the troop were ready to mount.

“Phee is mistaken,” returned the Quaker; ““here is my
rifle, and I desire that thou wilt furnish me a steed. Iam
opposed to war, as thou well knowest, but I think I shall
enlist in thy troop and go along to set an example of mod-
eration and sobriety for thy men.”

His declaration was greeted with a general shout of satis-
faction from the men, all of whom had listened to his ser-
mons in the little church and had made him a welcome
guest at their cabins.

Mounting, the band galloped up the mountain road to
Eagle Pass, the key to all the roads and passes leading into
the mountain for a distance of ten miles upand down. The
fleeing settlers had all passed in by this route, which had
only to be followed a couple of miles before it entered Ha-
ger’s Valley, a lovely spot of fifty acres shut in by rugged

 

 

 
   

 

   

 

    

THE Spy oF 1776. 31

cliffs.and' frowning rocks) ‘The entrance to: the Pass» could
be easily defended. by a score of Colonists against any at-
tack from cavalry or infantry, and there the troopers -pro-
posed to make their camp:

The entrance to the Pass was a-narrow road between: rug-
ged cliffs, and a few rods. up the road: was plenty of water
and grass:'| Whilea part of the bands were preparing the
camp, the ‘balance hurled:down® the: loose rocks: until they
‘had a breastwork across the:road: The:men were yet work-
ing at this defense: when. Crazy Dan returned; leaping his
horse over the rocks witha wild yell) He had forgotten his
bleeding back in the excitement of his visit to the Graham
farm and the sight of'so many British cavalry.

“Hurrah! hurrah!” he cried, as he dismounted. ‘I am
going to have a sword—a real sword—and I'll keep it stained
With blood all the time!”

The captain took him aside, cooled him down a: little,
and: finally extracted from him the: message which Mollie
had sent.

“ Now; tell' me exactly what she said,” commanded the
Captain, taking the lunatic by the arm.

“She said that there were ever so many  Britishers in the
house, and ever so many around the house, and you must
come down there to-night with a hundred men and fight _
them. all to pieces!”

It was plain to the captain that a portion of the enemy’s
Cavalry were bivouacking on the farm, but he could not get
from the*boy anything like a correct estimate of numbers.
Dan gave the number at a million, then at a thousand, and
finally said there were but ten.

“Tt pains me; Daniel, to have to open the wounds on thy
back,” commenced the Parson, breaking a switch, ‘‘ but thee
Must tell the truth to the captain 1
  

32 MAD DAN,

The boy commenced to weep, and it was plain that he
could not furnish the information wanted. He persisted in
his story that Mollie had sent him, and when he said that
the girl was crying as he found her, Captain Tracy was de-
termined on a night attack, no matter what the conse-
quences. Detachments of cavalry, which had been sent to
warn settlers, were coming in every few minutes, and by
nine o’clock the one hundred and ninety men under com-
mand of the captain had assembled in the camp. As soon
as the evening meal had been disposed of the captain stated
his plans, and the entire command shouted their approval.
Although the small band had been defeated at the Parson’s
cabin and put to rout, the main party at Graham’s farm
would not be apprehensive of an attack, being in superior
numbers.

When ten o’clock came, twenty men were told off to care
for the camp and defend the breastwork, and the others
made ready for the ride. The Parson was one of the
twenty, but he rebelled, saying:

“Did I not tell thee that I should ride with the troop as
an example? I am a man of peace, loving harmony and
respecting the commandments of my Bible, but I feel that
it is my mission to wrestle with those who have invaded our
quiet neighborhood for the purpose of slaying our friends!”

Crazy Dan was drawn to fill his place with the guard,
and when the troop rode out of the pass the Parson was at
their head with the captain.

“ Wilt thou make a general attack on the enemy?” in-
quired the Parson, as the horsemen rode at a slow pace.

“Tf circumstances permit,” replied Guy.

‘‘ Will thy men shoot, cut and hack, as in the battle up —
the road to day?” continued the Quaker.
‘Only more of it,” answered Guy,

 
   

 

 

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THE spy or 1776. _ 88

“Then I shall desire to remain a short distance behind,
although I cannot promise myself that my sinful nature will
not get control of my desire for peace, and force me to seek
for blood. If thou shouldst see me cutting and hacking,
thou wilt please make due allowance for the choking re-
ceived a few hours back.”

CHAPTER VI.
THE NIGHT ATTACK.

Rmrme to within a mile of Graham’s, the Colonists
halted, and a scout went forward to note the position of the
enemy. The British, troopers, although seeming to have no
fear of an attack, had not neglected proper precautions, A
Picket-guard had been stationed a quarter of a mile down
the road toward the mountain, and the camp could not be
surprised without warning.

Upon the return of the scout the captain prepared for the
attack. If the British force was largely superior in point of
numbers, and offered stubborn resistance, the Colonists were
to draw off after inflicting what damage they could, bring-
ing away no prisoners unless officers. There was a clear
held to the house from a point half a mile down the road,
and the roadside fence was torn down and part of the com-

. Mand rode into the field. A score of others were dismounted

to make a detour and reach the house from the rear, and the
Captain, with two-score of his followers, would charge up the
Toad. The signal of attack was to come from the dismounted
Men, who would give it as soon as they were in position.
There was half an hour of waiting, during which the men

 
   

34 MAD DAN,

conversed»in: whispers:and the: lorses) grew nervous, at. the
delay.. Thexmen had mo. knowledge of the strength of the
enemy, but they were going to charge him with ja determin-
ation to wins, The Parson sat his horse near the fence, out
of the way»of the rest, and he wondered. that.men could be
so cruel. Five minutes before the signal might be expected,
the order passed along for the men to ride forward at a
walk, so as to be near the picket and ready for the dash.

At length there was a sharp report from a carbine, and
next instant the Colonists dashed forward with a grand yell.
The picket were met and scattered, and two minutes after-
ward the horsemen were riding through and through the
camp of soldiers. The surprise was almost complete. Not
a gun was fired by the British until’a seore of sabers had
been stained with blood, and then, believing themselves at-
tacked by an overwhelming force, they retreated from the
camp-and ran through the yard and garden, to be driven
back by the dismounted men.

Shooting, slashing and yelling, the Colonists pursued ev-
ery advantage, and the rout would have been complete but
for an unlooked-for incident. The inmates of the house had
been aroused by the firing of the first gun, and the officers
made all haste to dress-and get out. The light used in one
of the rooms ‘had been overturned, and as the battle reached
its hight, the flames leaped out of the window and curled
over the roof. The Colonists ceased firing at once, and

while they crowded around the house the enemy were ral-

lied by their officers, and soon opened a sharp fire.

Two of the officers had been captured as they came out of

the house, but the rest escaped. As the Colonists gathered
around, the farmer and his daughter and servants were
driven out, and at that moment the British charged. It was
a hand-to-hand fight, and the Colonists were slowly retreating

   

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THE spy or 1776. 35

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when Parson Warner put in‘an appearance. He had stood
it as long as possible, and when he'rode in he made for the
thickest of the fight. Armed with ‘a heavy saber, he cut
right and left, and he rode straight over three or four men
who had surrounded ‘Captain Tracy, and were hacking at
him.

The bugle sounded recall, ‘and with a last volley the Colo-
nists drew off, the enemy having rallied in full force, and
the burning’ mansion showing them the smallness of the at-
tacking force. Farmer Graham had ‘seized ‘a carbine, and
fought with the red-‘coats, but though he could have been
shot a dozen times by those opposed, the men ‘remembered
that he was Mollie’s father, and therefore spared him.
Nearly all of them caught sightof Mollie for a moment as
she fled from the flames across the yard, but next moment
the battle opened ‘again, and’ they ‘were retreating.

There was no pursuit, and the Colonists drew off in good
order, driving a number of horses before them, ‘and picking
up sabers and carbines as they passed through the camp.
It was hardly twenty minutes ‘after the signal of attack be-
fore the battle had ended, but it had been a sharp one.
The Colonists lost seven men, killed and captured, and Tarle-
ton’s loss as’ officially annowaced included twenty-seven kill-
ed, eighteen wounded, the loss of twenty horses and many
arms. It was, in fact, the severest blow dealt that wily
1eader’s personal command during the Jong war.

The two ‘prisoners, a captain anda lieutenant, were se-
cured'as the Colonists retreated, and the march to the Pass
was not interrupted. While mourning the loss of his brave
men, Captain Tracy could not but exult at the loss of his
enemy, whose respect for the mountaineers would be vastly
inereased. There was no pity for Stephen Graham An
earnest'udvocate of war, it was well that’ he should know

SL a nr on heme

a

 
36 MAD DAN,

by personal loss what a bitter thing war was. It would have
been much better, after all, had the flames spared the house.
Guy realized that father and daughter would leave the place,
and now that the farmer was aroused and knew that the
Colonists had occasioned his loss, no one could tell what he
would do, and where he would go.

Parson Warner was conscience-stricken that he had not
exercised greater control over himself, and he rode on ahead
to escape the compliments thrown at him by the troopers.
When opportunity offered, he inquired of the captain:

‘* Hast thou ever seen soldiers who had been cut upon the
head with a saber?”

‘‘Many of them,” replied the captain.

‘‘And did they always live?”

“Not always.”

‘“‘] fear in my excitement I may have struck harder than

I should have done. I should dislike to think that I hurried -

any one into eternity without giving him time to make his
_ peace.”

That the British cavalry would follow down the road in
the morning, and make an attack wherever they could find
an opposing force, the Colonists had no doubt. The breast-
work was strengthened, the captured horses driven up the
Pass to the valley, and preparations were made to hold the
Pass at all hazards.

Crazy Dan had slept all the time that the Colonists were
absent from the Pass, and when aroused by their return,
and informed that a battle had occurred, he was greatly ex-
cited. Unobserved by any one, he saddled his horse, and
all of a sudden he dashed through the camp and over the
breastwork, shouting:

‘She promised me a new sword, and now I shall get it!”

He rode down the road at breakneck speed, and only

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THE spy oF 1776. 87

drew rein when he came upon the soldiers. Nothing was
left of the farm-house but a heap of fire, and by this light
the dead soldiers were being collected, and the injuries of
the wounded attended to. Dan was dragged from his horse
the moment he came up. Many of the soldiers had ob-
served him hanging around just at dark, and the conclusion
that he had been spying was at once reached. Officers and
men were in a savage mood, and there was a general deter-
mination to visit vengeance on the boy.

‘‘T want my sword!” he said, as they hustled him about.
‘*Mollie said she would give me a sword, and I want it.”

The farmer was sent for, and under his cross-questioning,
the boy admitted his conversation with Mollie, and that he
had carried the message to the captain. She had not charged
him to be secret, and his stupid brain did not realize tbe
need of concealing his actions.

The farmer was dumbfounded at the knowledge of treach-
ery on the part of his daughter, and the soldiers cried out
that the lunatic ‘should be hung. If he knew enough to
carry such a message, he knew enough to play the part of a
spy, and he deserved death.

“T tell you I want that sword!” demanded Dan, thinking
only of Mollie’s promise.

“Stand him over against that tree, and shoot him!” said
Tarleton, who cared not whether the boy deserved death or
not.

He was dragged to the tree, tied there, and half a dozen
men ran for their carbines.

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MAD DAN,

co.

CHAPTER VIT.
FALSE TO THE KING.

‘“‘ Hap I not the proofs before me I could not believe that
my daughter were false to the king,” said Stephen Graham
to the soldiers about him.

 

“And is it loyalty to the king to shoot down a crazy,

 

harmless boy?” inquired his daughter, .as she stood before
him. ‘‘ What has Crazy Dan done that he deserves death?”

“He says that you sent.him with a message to Captain
Tracy.”

**So I did!”

“Ts it possible that my daughter is a traitor to her gov-
ernment and to the lifelong principles of her father?” asked
the farmer, in great astonishment.

:

_ ‘* Out of the way there!—we are going to fire!” cried the
file of soldiers who were to shoot the lunatic.

Mollie broke out of the circle which surrounded her, ran
past the file, and she reached Dan and stood before him.
The astonished soldiers raised their muskets, and for a mo-
ment no one spoke.

‘“* We don’t want to shoot your daughter,” remarked Tar-
leton to the farmer, ‘‘and perhaps she is right about the
boy. We will defer the execution until I can make further
inquiries.”

Some of the soldiers praised the girl and others were an- es
gry at her interference, but Dan was untied and placed un-
der guard, and she returned to the barn where the women-

folks had taken refuge. Captain Lisle offered her his es-

 
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THE SPY OF 1776. 39

cort, but she refused it and likewise left his queries unan-
swered.

““They say the rebel captain is her lover,” remarked the
officer to Graham, in a petulant voice.

“If she had ten thousand rebel lovers she should marry
you, my choice,” replied the farmer. ‘‘I am ashamed and
grieved beyond measure at her conduct, and rather than she
should repeat it, I will become her murderer!”

‘* That’s the way to talk!” answered Lisle. ‘‘I’d like to
see the lady who was too good to marry a British officer,
and | believe it’s a daughter’s business to love where her fa-
ther directs!”

The garden and field presented sad sights when daylight
came to show the dead men and horses and the great blood
stains. There was not a Tory family nearer than Plainwell,
six miles to the east, and Graham decided to remove to the
village. The cavalry horses had emptied his corn-cribs, his
house and furniture were gone, his flocks in the highway,
and he realized something of what war was. He felt re-
vengeful, and he gave Tarleton a list of every family around
him who supported the patriot cause. Each house was to
receive the torch in turn, and there would be no rejoicing
over his misfortunes.

If he had expected rebellion against his plans or cutting
words from his daughter, he was disappointed. All traces
of her excitement had passed away, and as he looked upon
her handsome face he could hardly believe that she had con-
fessed to plotting the attack against the king’s cause. She
cheerfully complied with his request to prepare for the jour-
ney, and, greatly to the surprise of Captain Lisle, she ‘re-
turned his courteous nod of recognition. Perhaps she had
acknowledged to sending a message by Dan merely to save
his life, or she had sent a different message from what he

 
   

MAD DAN,

had stated. So argued both father and would-be lover, and
the harsh feelings toward her passed away.

It was so apparent that Crazy Dan was a genuine lunatic,
incapable of talking intelligently for more than a minute at
a time, that his execution was indefinitely postponed. It
was, however, deemed best to convey him to Plainwell and
confine him in the public jail until the soldiers were ready
to leave the neighborhood. He offered no resistance, and
was placed in the wagon which conveyed the farmer and his

daughter.
“<1 lied to them—I told lies!” he said to Mollie, as they
rode away. ‘‘ You did not promise me a sword, and you

did not ask me to carry any word to Captain Tracy!”

His mind had somehow caught the idea that his asser-
tions the night before had got him into danger and her into
trouble, and craft had crept in and warned him to make a
denial.

A patriot family had fled from Plainwell, leaving house
and furniture undisturbed. ‘The town was full of soldiers,
and under the advice of the military authorities farmer Gra-
ham took possession of the house, which was about to be
given to the torch. In its march from the border the army
had burned and destroyed everything belonging to those sus-
pected of disloyalty, and like orders were to govern their
future march. North Carolina had furnished some of the
best soldiers at the front, and the army wanted revenge.

News of the battle at the Graham farm had already been ~

received, and an additional cavalry force had been detached
to aid Tarleton in his work of exterminating the mountain
settlers. Graham was put in full possession of the house,
and Crazy Dan was turned over to the keeper of the jail.
There was a strong Tory element in the western part of the
State, and while the main army advanced into Virginia the

   

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THE spy oF 1776. 41

commanding General had decided to leave sufficient force
behind to establish and maintain military rule and to enlist
and equip such recruits as desired to join the royal forces.

Flying in confusion before the victorious red-coats, it did
not seem as if the Americans could offer much further re-
sistance in that part of the country. Washington was using
every lever in the Northern States, but he was menaced
from sea and land, and was powerless to prevent the invasion
of the South.

It was an uncomfortable thought for Mollie Graham to re-
flect upon. The mountaineers were being declared guer-
rillas and outlaws, and if her lover was not captured and
shot, the occupation of the country by the enemy would
drive him and his band back to the North.

Two hours after sunrise the British cavalry moved down
the road from Graham’s place for a reconnoissance along
the base of the mountain. As fast as they came to the de-
serted farm-houses they applied the torch, and presently
their route could be traced by a black cloud of smoke, which
could be seen for miles and miles. Captain Tracy saw it
from Eagle Pass, and he said:

‘“« They are having revenge for our work of last night.”

“ War is an awful thing!” replied Parson Warner, turning
away from the signais of destruction.

Among the men were those who owned the property be-
ing destroyed, and their excitement and indignaticn were al-
most beyond contro}.

“Steady, men!” said the captain, as he overheard them.
“The day will not pass before you will have a chance at
those who are applying the torch.”

Hardly an hour after, the picket posted down the road
reported British cavalry in sight. Reinforcements were sent
down, and every preparation made. at the breastwork for a
 

MAD DAN,

battle. The British felt their way up the road at a cautious
pace, and when the picket was discovered a flag of truce
was thrown out, and a dismounted cavalryman carried it for
ward until halted by the mountaineers.

He asked for the captain, and word was sent back to that
officer. Upon his arrival Captain Tracy was handed a writ-
ten proclamation signed by Lord Cornwallis. After the
usual ‘‘ whereases ” which distinguished that General’s bom-
bastic proclamations, the paper went on to say that the
mountaineers of the Alleghanies and the Blue Ridge had
been declared guerrillas, and that if captured with arms in
their hands they would not be treated as prisoners of war.

After the captain had finished reading he was informed
that Colonel Tarleton was ready to receive his surrender then
and there, and hold his command for exchange, but that it was
the last opportunity before the proclamation would be enforced.

‘“‘Take this answer back,” said the captain, in a quiet
voice; ‘‘tell your colonel that we have no thought of sur-
render, and that, if he proposes to murder prisoners, we shall
commence by shooting the two officers captured last night!”

CHAPTER VIII.
THE FIGHT. RETALIATION.

Tue British cavalry had no knowledge of the strength of
the mountaineers or of their defenses, and they exhibited
pluck and daring in making an attack. Within fifteen
minutes after the flag-of-truce man had disappeared down
the road, the red-coats made their appearance, dismounted,
and opened a hot fire.

   

a

  
ht

‘tHE spy or 1776. 43°

The Colonists retreated behind their breastwork at the
mouth of the Pass, and they were scarcely in position before
a full hundred British were in front. If Tarleton had
thought that a rush and a yell would disperse the borderers,
he was doomed to be terribly disappointed. The fierce,
steady fire from the carbines behind the rocks would have
driven back the bravest soldiers in the world. The British
would not fall back until ordered, and they left a score of
dead in the road and carried off a number of wounded.

The rank and file must have known that they could
never carry the breastwork, but, half an hour after the first
battle, when ordered to charge again, they swept up the
road on a run, cheering and yelling, and were almost at the
rocks when the storm of lead swept them down. No voice
could rally them, and they fell back to a place of safety.
The picket was detailed to reoccupy their former position,
and the borderers felt that they would not be attacked
again. They had not lost a man, while the enemy's dead
numbered thirty-eight.

As expected, a flag of truce came up within an hour,
asking permission to remove the British dead and wounded.
This was willingly granted, and when conveyed within their
lites, the wounded red-coats were dispatched to Plainwell
and the dead were buried.

These matters kept Tarleton quiet during the balance of
the day, and when night came, he had been largely rein-
forced. Captain Tracy could not see how the British com-
mander could re-attack him with any hope of carrying the
breastwork. Artillery could not be used in the narrow road,
and a charge of infantry was sure to be repulsed every
time. There was only one other road coming down the
mountain, and this was fortified and held by other Colonists.
If Tarleton scattered his men over the mountain, they were

 
  

eee

MAD DAN,

even more liable to be picked off, and, taken altogether, the
captain felt sure that he had an advantage of which he could
not be dispossessed.

‘There was, however, a natural anxiety to know the enemy’s
plans, and further, a desire to learn what had become of
farmer Graham and his daughter.

As evening faded into night and the camps grew quiet,
Guy called to one of his men and broached the subject of a
scout. The soldier was a brave, crafty fellow, willing to
undertake the peril, but Guy gave him to understand that
he could act his own free will, not wishing to jeopardize his
safety. The man decided to go, and an hour before mid-
night he was off. The road was a dangerous route to reach
the British camp, and he avoided it, climbing up among the
rocks and working his way along to the south, until he was
above the camp, which had been pitched on a grass plat
close to the base of the mountain.

It required two hours of careful maneuvering for the
scout to descend the mountain and find himself among the
soldiers. Then he found that he was not likely to attain
the object for which he was periling his life. The camp
was quiet, with a heavy picket up the road, and the most
he could do would be to give Captain Tracy an estimate of
the force of the enemy. There were at least five hundred
men encamped along the base, and provisions had been fur-
nished them from Plainwell, as if they intended to lay seige
to the Pass.

The scout moved about among the sleeping troopers with
noiseless step, and had worked himself almost across the
camp, when a wakeful soldier observed him and called out:
“Has there been any alarm?” ,

“No; every thing is quiet,” answered the scout.
It flashed through his mind that he might ascertain from

   
   
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
»

THE. spy or 1776. 45

the soldier what had become of the Graham family, and he
approached him and sat down. The red-coat asked for pipe
and tobacco, and the scout supplied him, though they proved
the instruments of his death, . Many of the borderers wore
half buck-skin suits, fancifully trimmed, and the suit which

_the scout had on could not fail to establish his identity, if seen.

There was a smoldering camp-fire near them, and as the
soldier cut the tobacto and filled his pipe he threw some dry
branches on the coals. They caught and blazed up, and the
light shone full upon the two men. The scout was betrayed,
and as he realized it, the soldier seized him and gave the
alarm. The camp was aroused in a moment, and the bord-
erer was a prisoner and securely guarded before he had fully
realized his danger.

Several of the officers questioned him, but the scout re-
fused to speak a word, knowing that his fate was sealed.
Captured under such circumstances, the British were sure to
hang him, and feeling certain of his fate, the man determined
not to betray his comrades or increase their troubles. The
excitement over his arrest soon subsided, and the soldiers re-
turned to their sleep. There was no hope of escaping the
guard, and when morning came, the red-coats were exultant
at the capture of a real borderer, crafty, brave, and facing
death with perfect coolness.

He was conducted to Tarleton’s tent, an hour after sun-
rise, and there found a court-martial assembled. The pro-
ceedings were brief and heartless.

“You have been caught in my camp as a spy,” said Tarle-
ton; ‘‘you are a spy, and within an hour you shall dangle
from a limb! Will you answer any questions”

“‘ Not one!” replied the scout.

The officers spoke a few words among themselves, put
their names to a paper, and the scout was led away.

 
   

Half an hour after.a flag of truce came down the road
from the Colonists. Certain that his man had been.captured,
Guy was anxious, to save him, and he had instructed the flag-
bearer to offer both British officers in exchange for the
borderer. .

‘‘T shall hang him!” was Tarleton’s.reply to. the message.

‘“Then he, will hang one_of the officers!”

‘*He dare not!” .

The flag went back, and several of the mountaineers clam-
bered. up among the rocks. to,a, point which commanded a
view of the British camp. Preparations were being made
for the execution, and while they watched, they saw their
companion meet an ignominious. fate.

‘* Gentlemen,” said Guy, approaching the British officers,
when he learned the fate of the borderer, ‘‘ Tarleton has just
executed one of my scouts. I promised ‘him that, if he did
so, I would.hang one of you! I-shall keep my promise; one
of you two will die within an hour!”

They were brave men, as, their scars attested, but they
turned pale as they heard the words, and realized that retali-
ation was to be, practiced. One of them was.a man near
fifty, with only.a daughter to care for; the other was under
forty, with.a wife and. three children across the sea,

“We will not draw lots; I will be.the victim!” said the
elder; ‘‘I have only one to miss me, while you have four.”

The lieutenaut. would: have it otherwise, but the captain
was firm, and when Guy came for their answer, he stepped
out and replied that he. was ready. The parting between the
two who had so long served: their king together, was not
witnessed by the mountaineers, who. turned away to avoid it.
Retaliation is a cruel thing, little short of murder, but its
practice. sometimes secures a respest from the enemy which
nothing else could beget. .

    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
THE shy oF 1776. 4

"T have nothing against you, God kndws,” said Guy, as
the officer was led out to die. ‘‘ I would lose an arm rather
than see you murdered this way, but we have been declared
outlaws and bushwhackers by your commander, who has or-
ders to execute us whenever caught. He must be taught
that we have rights as soldiers, which he is bound to respect.
We can teach him in no other way but by retaliation, and
you must die!”

‘“A soldier should be ready to take all the chances of
war,” replied the officer, and he walked with a firm step
under the limb from which he was to hang a corpse. Seeing
the Parson near by, he beckoned to him, and then ascertain-
ing that he was a minister of the gospel, he asked his prayers.

“Please be as quick as you can!” said the officer, as he
rose up, and the men who had the execution in charge
obeyed his request. No man could have exhibited greater
courage; and but for the fact that the fiend Tarleton after-
ward hung old men and young boys, the captain's execution
would be remembered as murder instead of retaliation.

 

CHAPTER’ IX.
THE QUAKER’S SCOUT.

DurinG the afternoon of the day on which the officer and
scout were executed, the British forces opened a vigorous
fusilade against the position of the Colonists, but it was
powder and lead thrown away. No one was injured on
either side; and just before night Tarleton retreated back
about four miles from the mountain, satisfied that he must
entice the mountaineers out of their stronghold if he would
disperse them. For several reasons Captain Tracy was glad

 
i

 

 

Piette

ii
tj
i
i
it
i
ii
i

  

 

i

a

SBOE

ae

48 MAD DAN,

of this movemerit of the part of the enemy, and he pushed
his picket half a mile further down the road. He was aware
that the retirement of the enemy was only a piece of stratagem
intended to entrap and destroy him, and he could not. be
drawn out.

All that afternoon the Colonists, watching from the peaks,
could see sad sights in the valley below. British troops rode
north and south, burning every house and cabin along the
base, shooting such stock as had been left behind, and in
many instances girdling the orchards with their sabers. Well,
indeed, might the historian say that the British aroused a
terrible foe in the persons of tne borderers. Men who looked
down from bluff and peak, and saw their cabins swept away
by the flames, and their farms made desolate, swore a terrible
vengeance against the perpetrators, and their hearts never
afterward knew mercy toward a wearer of the king’s uni-
form. ;

There was no force to stay the victorious march of Corn-
wallis further east, and his soldiers marched triumphantly
northward, pillaging and burning whenever they came to the
homestead of a Colonist. It was a discouraging hour for the
most sanguine patriot, and it was an hour of bitter trial for
the mountaineers.

When night came Parson Warner approached Guy, and

after a few words in regard to the devastation in the valley,

he said:

“Hast thou any message to any one in Plainwell?”

“ And if I had?”

“Then I would deliver it!” replied the Parson. ‘* Thou
art surprised to hear me say so, but I shall be in the village
before morning, unless the heathen should lay violent hands
on me.”

“Are you going on a scout?”
»

THE spy or 1776. - 49

“T am not versed in thy military phrases, but I presume
thou hast designated my proposed journey by its proper ti-
tle,” answered the Parson.

“You run a great risk. Unless your business is very
important, you would not be warranted in thus exposing
yourself.”

“‘T desire to find farmer Graham and his daughter for one
thing; to ascertain what has become of Daniel, and to speak
words of advice to one or two patriot families residing in
the village. Although going on a private errand as it were,
I shall not shut my eyes or my ears, and when I return I
may have information of value for thee.”

As much as he wanted to hear from the Grahams, Guy
sought to dissuade the Parson from undertaking the dan-
gerous journey, but could neither frighten nor turn him.
The Quaker placed his rifle in other hands, removed his
knife and watch, and under his broad-brimmed hat he looked
like his old self again. He had most to dread from Tarle-
ton’s men, some of whom might recoguize him as the citizen
who had taken part in the night attack. Therefore, at ele-
ven o’clock, when he moved out of camp, he traveled to the
north for an hour before turning to the east. He saw the
camp-fires of the cavalry all along the base of the mountain,
and in the valley many log-houses, barns and stacks were yet
smoldering.

Though walking forward at his usual gait, and taking no
extra precautions to conceal his presence, the Parson’s eyes
and ears were wide open. He saw several wagons hauling
provisions to the red-coats, and one or two small camps, but
no one halted bim until he was within three miles of the
village. The main army had passed on to the north, leaving
three or four hundred soldiers in and around the village.
The Parson was stumbling along the highway, cane in hand,

 
    
   
   
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
   

   

50 MAD DAN,

when a soldier stepped out from a fence corner and halted
him.

‘Ts it thy business to stop honest people traveling to see
friends? Then | shall tarry,” replied the Parson.

He was conducted to the sergeant of the reserve picket,
and then sent to the camp, where a captain subjected him to
a sharp cross-examination. o

“‘T half believe that you are an old spy,” said the cap-
tain, when the Quaker answered his questions with frank-
ness. ‘‘ What in the deuce does an honest man want to be
skulking around at midnight for?”

The Parson had stated that he was on his way to see the
Grahams, old friends, and finally, when the captain could
see no reason for detaining an old man-who was traveling
further within the military lines, he let him proceed, saying:

“If you are in league with the rebels, I shall soom have
the pleasure of seeing you hung.”

“My friend,” replied the Parson, ‘‘if all men minded
their own business as well as Quakers, there would be nei-
ther war nor executions!”

It was near two o’clock when the Parson entered the vil-
lage. The landlord of the village hotel, who was a patriot
at heart, would not betray him, and the old man made his
way to the inn, which was full of soldiers. The door was
open and there was no one in charge, and the Quaker
stretehed out on a bench to obtain a little sleep and to wait
ti for daylight.

i When morning came he was glad to find that the soldiers
i gave him no: special attention, and that the landlord cor-
dially welcomed him. The host knew all about the Gra-
hams, and gave the Parson full: particulars; he also knew
that Crazy Dan was in the jail, which he thought the safest
place for the boy while the troops occupied the town. The
THE spy or 1776. 51

military had full possession there; and were carrying things
with a high hand, misusing and maltreating their own
friends.

The Parson felt that it would not be safe for him to-roam
about the village. Graham knew his sentiments and would
denounce liim'at.onee if meeting’ him. It was. also quite
certain that if any of the soldiers who participated in the
fight at:Graham’s farm: were in the village they would recog-
nize the Quaker. He remained about the hotel until near
noon, when the landlord: winked him aside, and:said:

‘* Parson, Ii heard:the soldiers:on the street talking about
an old Quaker who was in the battle the « her night. [
think they meant) you,.and I think they are go 1g’ to’ search
the village, as they seem) to know that youare. ere. They
are a rough set of men, and if they, did no mre; would
surely maltreat you.”

‘*Phen, Reuben, what would thou advise me to do?” in-
quired the Parson, displaying no excitement.

‘*Hide somewhere. Go through the: back. yard and cross
over into 'the basement: of: Bell’s new barn. They may not
come to search there.”

‘My thanks are due thee, Reuben,” replied the Quaker,
and he shook hands and“was“off; He gained the barn with- *
out encountering any one, and found the basement of the
half-completed structure a good hiding-place. There was a »
floor above, but the orifices in the’ walls for the doors and
windows were still open. Seated’ on'a’ bench, the Parson
hadiworn away two. or: three. hours, and, had made. up: his
mind that he ‘had: nothing ‘to fear, when a British soldier en-
tered’ the basement after shavings. He caught sight of the
Quaker»at-once, and called out:

“Soho! You-are: the old. chap that. the soldiers have
been looking.for!”

 
     
   
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
  
    

MAD DAN,

““My friend, wilt thou inform me why any one should
seek after me?” asked the Parson.

‘“They say you are a cursed old rebel, and that you were
in the fight the other night.”

““Thy language is emphatic, at least,” answered the Par-
son, at the same time wondering what he should do.

“It isn’t half as emphatic as what you'll get, my old
chap!” said the soldier. ‘‘ Just give me your arm and [ll
escort you to head-quarters.”

‘“Thou canst go thy way, and I will continue in mine!”

“Come along, I say!’ cried the man, putting out his
hand.

As the Parson rose up, the devil took possession of him.
He felt that he would be recognized and shot if he went,
and, acting on the impulse of the instant, he seized the sol-
dier by the throat and crushed him down on the shavings.
The man struggled, but the grip was like iron, and after a
moment his face commenced to grow black.

“T do not want thy blood on my hands, but what can I
do?” whispered the Parson, looking anxiously about.

CHAPTER X.
fit A THOROUGH VILLAIN.

PLAINWELL was not an important point, but it was in a

Tory country, and a small force of men to act as provost-

guards and receive recruits was left behind. Captain Lisle,

= of Tarleton’s command, was detailed to act as provost-mar-
shal, and nothing could have suited him better.

The man was a thorough villain as far as he could be a
THE Spy oF 1776. 58

villain and not be dismissed the service. During his three
months’ stay on the seaboard he had married several wives,
and had cast each one aside for a fresh face, knowing that
there was no one to administer the civil law against him, and
being regarded as a smart man by his brother officers.

But for the encouragement given him by the father, Cap-
tain Lisle would have scarcely dared hope to possess farmer
Graham’s daughter, and as it was, he gave the subject little
thought until he found that he was likely to tarry in Plain-
well for some weeks. Then he was determined that she
should be his wife, and he had not been in his new position
a day before he began planning. He had little hope of
securing her willing consent, but depended on the father to
force her into the marriage. If the father lacked the power,
then the captain would try a scheme of his own.

Stephen Graham’s losses had rested hard upon him, and
he was already sick of war. While he had no pity for the
scores of patriots whose homes were in ashes, he thought it hard
that a loyal British subject should be made a victim as well,
When he came to think back over the conversation around
his table, his tongue loosened by spirits, he felt ashamed, and
he hoped Captain Lisle would not remember it. He hated
the rebels worse than ever, particularly Captain Tracy; but
as there was no danger of his daughter becoming the bride
of a patriot, he concluded that there was no need of haste in
_ marrying her toa British soldier. He had incidentally learned
that Captain Lisle was more of a vagabond than a gentleman,
and that he had more assurance than money; and his idea
had been to marry Mollie to respectability and wealth.

The farmer thought of all these things, though he said
nothing to his daughter. He felt that it was also a hard
blow on her to be driven from home, and. his heart grew
warmer and more tender. She had never referred to the

 
   

    

MAD DAN,

battle and its incidents; and he had been careful not to call
the subject up. He was sorry that he had spoken so roughly
and decisively, but yet he was determined to stand by his
declaration that she should never wed a patriot. On that
point he was immovable.

Captain Lisle had been at his new post but.a couple of
hours before he called upon the Grahams to inform them of
his good Iuck. The daughter was coldly courteous, as he
expected to find her, but he was disappointed in the father,
who did not express any satisfacation when told of the ap-
pointment.

“Tt is a capital thing,” said the captain, rubbing his hands
and concealing his chagrin. ‘‘T trust that my acquaintance
with your lovely daughter will be all that I have hoped for,
and that it may not be a fortnight before I,shall call her my
bride!”

‘*T should not be willing to have my daughter marry on
such short acquaintance as. that,” replied Graham. ‘‘ After
peace is restored, if she desired to wed an Bnglish officer
who had helped conquer the rebellion, I,should give: my cheer-
ful consent.”

“This is not much like your) talk,of a week-ago,” said the
faptain, ina threatening. tone.

“My circumstances: have greatly changed (since then,” was
the quiet rejoinder.

“J have nothing to do with your circumstances. You
promised me your daughter’s hand in marriage, and;I shall
hold you to it. Ilove the girl, believe that she! has already
commenced to love me, and this day week I shall: lead her
to the altar!”

The man’s brazen impudence dumbfounded the farmer,
who had not recovered from his surprise, when the captain
continued:
tHE spy or 1776. §5

‘*T have proofs that your daughter is disloyal to the king;
further, that she is in correspondence with leading rebels;
further, that she has your support and encouragement.”

“Tis a lie!” shouted Graham, leaping to his feet-—‘‘ a bold,
malicious lie! My daughter has no correspondence with
rebels, and my loyalty can not be: questioned!”

“ But you know that Catptain Tracy intends to marry her!”

“He never shall!” shouted Graham, trembling with rage
and excitement. ‘‘It shall never be said that a daughter of
Stephen Graham married a rebel!”

The captain was touching him) just where he had planned
to, and he continued:

‘* But what is one to think? You promise your daughter's
hand in marriage to one of his majesty’s officers, and then
suddenly withdraw it, while it is ascertained that your daugh-
ter is receiving love-letters from a.Colonial captain. It looks
suspicious,”

“T tell you I have not sought to evade my promise!” rv-
plied Graham. ‘‘ Mollie shall marry as I direct, and she
shall marry you! I have said it, and Stephen Graham never
breaks his word. Set the day and she shall be your bride!”

“T can never thank yow enough,” said the captain, extend-
ing his hand. ‘I knew that your heart was right, and your
action must convince others. I shall love your daughter,
treat her tenderly, and trust that you may never regret your
choice ”

He had: carried: his point by suspecting, or pretending to
suspect, the farmer’s loyalty. Had he played any other game
he would have failed, but so insanely enthusiastic was Gra-
ham on the point of his devotion to his king that he would
have made any sacrifice to prove it.

“Mollie. must wed him, whether or no,” he said to him-
self, after the captain had retired: His hatred of Captain

 
   

‘Tracy made Captain Lisle stand out in better favor, and he
had scarcely commenced to canvass -the subject when his
mind was made up that Mollie ought to be thankful for the
opportunity afforded her of marrying a thorough Englishman,
a gentleman of some wealth, and, better than all in the sight

of the father, an officer engaged in the patriotic work of put-

ting down a wicked rebellion.

She stood before him as he entertained these thoughts.
She had treated the captain with cold courtesy as he was ad-
mitted to the house, and had then withdrawn to her room.
None of the conversation had been overheard, but she felt
that it concerned her, and that her father might be unduly
persuaded.

‘‘Do you love Captain Tracy?” he inquired, looking up
into her face.

She made no reply, but he saw her cheeks crimson and
there was no need of words.

“Tt matters nothing whether you love or hate him,” he .
continued, his voice showing his determination of mind,
“You will marry a man of my choosing, and my choice has
been made!”

‘Tt is Captain Lisle?” she replied.

“It is.”

‘“Have you named the day?”

“This day week.”

‘**T will be ready!”

He looked up in amazement. He had expected resistance
to the last, and had nerved himself to use harsh language,
and to carry his point over every obstacle. The crimson had
le t her cheeks, and she was white as death, but there was a
look in her eyes which he had never seen before. Somehow
it reminded him of one driven to the wall, and, feeling that
there was no escape, had turned about to die fighting.

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
   
=~

tHE sPy or 1776. 57

CHAPTER XI.
THE JAIL PRISONER.

Tue mind of a lunatic, as indicated by his ravings and
mutterings, creates wonder and astonishment as well as a
feeling of sympathy. The strange fancies of the diseased
mind are beyond comprehension. The emotion may be
fright, love, revenge, jealousy, reverence, or what not, but
some one idea will become a leading motive of action, and
the lunatic will embrace it and pursue it with all the ardor
and with all the craft which a sane mind could display.

Crazy Dan had never been troublesome or dangerous.
There were weeks at a time when he seemed more foolish
than insane, and he could be trusted and relied on. The
excitement since the advent of the British soldiers had
made his mental condition worse than for years, and when
placed in the jail and restrained of his liberty, he raved,
cursed and behaved like one who had lost all glimpses of
reason. His mind was possessed of the idea that he had
been terribly maltreated by the British, and that he must
seek revenge.

He had borne his whipping as if his flesh had no feeling,
and his eyes had looked from man to man with a look
which boded them no good. Esch face belonging to those
who had handled the whips had been burned into his memory
until they could not be forgotten, and now, when a prisoner in
the jail, his only thoughts were how he could revenge himself
upon them. With these thoughts came the stealth and the
craft which ever distinguish the lunatic as he seeks to carry
out his plans.

 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
    
  
 
  
 
 

58 MAD DAN,

The jailer had known the boy for years, and knowing
him to be harmless and inoffensive, he cared little about de-
taining him. He allowed him the free range of the jail, and
by and by permitted him to go out upon the street. Dan
suddenly ceased to rave and curse, and his actions would
have almost convinced a careless observer that his mind was
improving. There were no complaints at his being given
his liberty, and when the soldiers. came to see that he was
not quite right in his mind they allowed him to wander

“around without let or hindrance, some tendering him food

and others having a little sport over his misfortune.

Never did a detective follow the trail of a criminal with
greater zeal than that displayed by the lunatic as he hunted
for the soldiers who had applied the whip to his back.
There were four of them; one had been killed in the dash
which rescued Parson Warner; another in the fight before
the breastwork; a third had been wounded in the shoulder
and sent back to’ Plainwell, and the fourth was with Tarle-
ton. Therefore, Dan hunted in vain until three or four
days after the Parson entered the village, he saw and recog-
nized the wounded man, who was able to walk about the
streets.

‘“Ho! ho!” cried the soldier, as he also recognized the
lunatic—*“ here’s the chap who had his back doctored the
other day! How’s your feelings, looney?”

The lunatic laughed as. heartily as the soldier, and uttered
no word to show that he was planning that instant how he
could satisfy his revenge. As he passed along, the sol-
dier related to the group around him what fun he had in
whipping a lunatic Yankee, and they joined in his laugh-
ter.

Crazy Dan remembered that he had seen a large butcher-
knife in the pantry of the jail, and he hastened to possess

   

  
THE spy or 1776. ~ 58

himself of the weapon, When he had obtained it he wan-
dered around the village again until his eyes caught sight of a
grindstone in rear of a carpenter shop, and he rubbed his knife
against the stone until it hada sharp, keen point. Then
he hid the weapon in his bosom and went out to keep track
of the soldier.

There was no excitement in the village. The main army
had passed on, meeting with little or no resistance, and the
mountaineers were too prudent. to be drawn.out from their
strongholds in the range. During the afternoon the lunatic
was constantly near the soldier who, was tobe his victim,
and yet his actions were so crafty that no one suspected
him. His first impulse after securing possession, of the knife
was to rush upon the soldier and murder him at once, but
something whispered to him that he should be cautious, and
he restrained his desire for revenge. He had forgotten the
Grahams, and his sole thoughts were given to planning
against- the soldier’s life. Just before dark, as the red-coat
sat on the steps of the building in use as an hospital, smoking
his pipe, the lunatic approached him again.

‘* Well, looney, how’s your back just now?” inquired the
soldier, with a laugh.

“I. know where’s a big pile of guns and swords,” said
Dan, as if not hearing the inquiry. ;

‘“‘You do, eh?” replied the soldier, interested at once.
‘Tell me where they ure and I’ll give you this watch.”

Experience had shown him that the Colonists had fre-
quently hidden stores which they had not time to move and
did not wish to destroy, and it occurred to him that the
lunatic might have discovered a cache. If so, the discovery
of the property was a matter of considerable importance,
and he pressed Dan for further information.

“Tl go along with you if you'll show me,” he said,

 
   

  

60 MAD DAN,

“fand you shall have this watch, which ticks as merrily as
a cricket,”

The plan passed through the lunatic’s mind like a flash,
and he expressed his willingness to lead the way.

No one gave the pair particular attention as they moved
off toward the outskirts of the village. After getting clear
of the last house Dan crossed the fields toward a grove.
The soldier had no doubt that the munitions were concealed
among the trees, and he chuckled his satisfaction at the
manner in which he was to outwit his guide and secure a
good word from his captain for unearthing the property,

“‘T don’t see them,” he said, as they entered the grove;
‘“ where’s the stuff?”

‘*A little way further,” replied Dan, and they pressed on
until the grove hid them from sight. The evening shadows
rendered the place gloomy, and the soldier finally became
suspicious and would go no further.

“If you have been fooling me, I will kill you!” he said,
in a rage, as he cast his eyes about him without discovering
any signs of a cache.

Dan’s exultation was so great that he laughed loudly, and
he seemed to enjoy the soldier’s discomfiture.

‘Let me get my hand on you, that’s all!” continued the
soldier, reaching out to grasp the boy.

That sealed his fate. With a yell of rage and hate the
lunatic drew his knife and leaped upon his victim, thrusting
and cutting as if nothing could appease his fury. The sol-
dier cried out once or twice, and then started to run, but
the lunatic drove the knife into his back, and even after his
victim was a corpse he still continued to use his weapon.
When his excitement had worn off he did not feel afraid
nor regret the deed. He had at first a mind to cut the vic-
tim’s head off, but he forbore, and, leaving the knife stick-

 
THE spy or 1776. 61

ing in the body, he started off across the fields toward the
mountain, intending to rejoin Captain Tracy’s band. He
had traveled half a mile when it suddenly occurred to him
that he ought to have brought his knife along. He turned
upon the instant and ran back and recovered it. The white
face of the dead man looking up from the darkness did not
startle him, nor did the mournful voice of the whippowil
make him afraid.

“Daniel won’t hurt anybody if they don’t hurt him,” he
whispered, and he cleared the grove and took to the fields
again. His mind busy with what had transpired in the
grove, he had no care for what was before him until he sud-
denly encountered half a dozen soldiers loaded with bundles
of straw, which they had procured from a stable in the field. ~
He was so close that they saw the knife in his hand, and one
of them called for him to halt. Suddenly alarmed, he dashed
off on a run, and the soldiers threw off their bundles and
made chase.

CHAPTER “ATE,
A CHAPTER OF ADVICE.

TE Parson did not mean to take the soldier’s life if he
could assure his safety without proceeding to that extremity,
and when he found the red-coat incapable of further resis-
tance he let up on him, saying:

“TI gave thee fair warning, friend, but thou wast obstin-
ate and perverse. A little choking may have stifled some of
thy conscientious scruples. In case I let thee up, what
course wilt thou pursue?”

 
62 MAD DAN,

The soldier gasped and choked, und it was some time be
fore he could reply:

‘‘Let me up, you old sinner, or I'll have you roasted
alive!”

‘© Then I shall not Jet thee up,” replied the Parson. ‘It
is no time or place to find fault with thy language, but, if
thou couldst find smoother words to express thy ideas, there
would be less desire on my part to recommence the process
of strangulation!”

“Pll fix you for this!” growled the soldier, whose natural
disposition was any thing but pleasant or forgiving.

‘‘Thy language places me in an unpleasant dilemma,” re-
plied the Quaker. ‘‘I see that I must either murder thee or

“submit to captivity and the treatment which thy comrades
may see fit to give me. While my soul revolts'at the idea
of taking human life, this is a case wherein the deed might
not be written down a sin.”

The soldier had been watching his opportunity, and he
suddenly threw all his strength into an effort to roll the Par-
son under. The move was dexterously made but was unsuc-
cessful, the Quaker regaining his hold of the man’s throat
and holding on until the fellow was as limp as a rag.

‘Kind words and friendly advice are thrown away upon
thee,” remarked the Parson, as he loosened his grasp and
wiped the sweat from his face. ‘‘I think V’ll choke thee a
little more for thy display of cunning!”

‘When he let up again the soldier lay like a dead man, and
the Parson drew out his knife, possessed himself of his vic-
tim’s suspenders, ard in a trice had rolled him cver and made
his arms fast behind his back. Rolling him back, he tore
his handkerchief in two, made an end of either strip fast to
a cob, and whipped the gag into the man’s mouth just as he
was coming back to a knowledge of events.

    

sant ioiatetnemtnsnareonanenicn

  

 
   
THR spy or 1776. 68

“‘T did think to choke thee to death, but this is a better
way,” remarked the Quaker, as he cut a strap from a harness
hanging on a peg. ‘‘I want to bind thee fast and stout, and
I care not how soon thou wrigglest out after I put an hour
between myself and the village.”

The soldier offered no further resistance, and the Parson
drew him to the end of the cellar and securely fastened him
to a beam.

It was now near sundown, and if no one came into the
basement the Quaker would have little difficulty in leaving
the village as soon as darkness came on to hide his move-
ments. It was not time to go for an hour yet, and he sat
down by his victim to administer a moral lecture.

“T have no doubt that thou findest thy situation highly.

unpleasant,’ he began, guarding his voice, ‘‘ but if thou hadst
been more obliging and less impudent, thy mental and physi-
cal condition would have been less perturbed. 1 have little

hope for the future of any one who lendeth his services to

burn the homes of honest farmers, whose only crime is in
loving liberty, but, nevertheless, I feel it my duty to ask thee
to mend thy ways. A soldier need not necessarily be a vil
lain, and a soldier may read his prayers and prepare himself
for the world to come without interfering with his military
duties.”

The soldier’s legs were free, and he suddenly gave the Par-
son a heavy kick on the thigh.

“Tf I had time I could choke: and.talk by turns until I
had made a decent man of thee!” said the Quaker, going after
another strap. ‘‘I had forgotten thy legs, but thou hast re-
minded me of my carelessness, and there will be an end to
thy kicking.”

He fastened the strap stout and strong, and by that time
he felt that it was safe to leave his retreat. His intention

 
   
 
    
   
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
  

  

  

 

64 MAD DAN,

was to return to the mountain with as little delay as possible
Leaving the barn, he made his way across a garden, and was
crossing the street when he heard soldiers shouting. Think-
ing that he was discovered, he quickly leaped a fence and
found himself in a yard close upon a wood-shed. As the
shouting continued, he entered the shed, having scarce a hope
that he would leave it except asa prisoner. However, the
shouting ceased after a time, and as no searchers appeared,
the Parson’s courage rose again. He was thinking of leaving
his retreat, when he heard a step, the door opened, and
Mollie Graham whispered:

‘*Parson Warner! are you in here?”

“Thou needst not doubt that I am!” he replied, stepping
forward. She had caught a glimpse from one of the win-
dows as he entered, and waiting until satisfied that he was
not pursued, she had crept out of the house to see him. She
related her troubles and asked his advice. “He pondered for
some time, and then answered:

“It is not meet for me to advise thee to disobey thy par-
ent in any thing, because the Holy Word advises that they
be obeyed in all things.”

“But I will take my own life rather than marry Captain
Lisle!” she returned.

‘* As I was going to remark, parents are not always wise
in their decisions,” he ‘continued, ‘‘It may be laid up
against me in heaven as a sin, but I will say that I do not
approve of thy wedding to the British soldier, and would like
to see thee the bride of Captain Tracy. But canst thou hold
out against the machinations of those who are planning thy
fate?”

“T can not leave home—I can only let them go on with
their plotting,” she replied; ‘‘ but if they attempt to force me
to wed Captain Lisle, it will be a funeral instead of a wedding!”

  
THE spy oF 1776. 65

“T hope it may not come to that, but such is my excite-
ment and anxiety, that I am not fit to counsel with thee. A
week is a long time; we can not tell what Dame Fortune may
not do for thee in that time. I will go on my way, and if
the difficulties are not insurmountable, thou shalt hear from
me or thy lover before the week expires.”

Climbing over the fence, he passed through a garden, and
finally got clear of the village. He knew that he was likely
to encounter soldiers anywhere, and went forward at a cau-
tious pace Coming upon an apple-tree bearing ripe fruit,
he halted long enough to fill his pockets, and then moved on
again. ‘There were no camps between the village and a point
a mile beyond the Graham farm, where the British cavalry
had taken position while waiting to trap the mountaineers,
and from which camp raiding parties were sent out to scour
the country north and south.

The Parson gave the camp a wide circuit, and was pass-
ing nearan old straw stack, when he fell, into a ditch, and
so badly sprained his ankle, that after he had drawn himself
out he could not stand up.

‘Every thing is the work of Providence,” he said, as he
realized the nature of the accident, and his almost helpless
condition. ‘‘I have a good supply of apples, there’s water
in the ditch, and the stack will conceal me for a day or
two.”

He rolled back into the ditch, and drank his fill of the
water, which tasted any thing but pleasant, and then he
hobbled along to the stack. The soldiers had torn it down
to get the straw, and the Parson was not long in burrowing
into the center. He was not likely to be discovered unless
most of the straw was taken away, and he removed his shoe
and stocking to rub the sprain.

“‘Tt could have been worse,” he mused, as he found the

 

 
    

 

   

MAD DAN,

ankle badly swollen; ‘‘the fall might have broken my leg,
or my neck, or a soldier might have been at hand to seize
me. Those things which sometimes seem like calamities,
are very often the means of averting greater evils.”

CHAPTER XIII.
THE DEFERRED CEREMONY—OTHER PLANS.

‘*You should commence making preparations for the
wedding, as the time is but short,” said Graham, the next
day after his conversation with Captain Lisle.

‘‘T have none to make,” replied the daughter.

““So much the better,” he continued, stiffly; ‘if you
think best to be married in a calico dress I shall offer no ob-
jections.”

Not another word passed between them relating to the af-
fair. He missed her red cheeks and merry songs, and if he
had not thought her desirous of rebelling -against parental
authority her white face would have softened his heart. It
was a gloomy week to him, and he could only think of his
losses. News had come back that the Colonists were mass-
ing a respectable army in South Carolina to give battle to
Cornwallis, and the boasted troops of Tarleton were doing
nothing toward exterminating the mountaineers. The farmer
grumbled at himself and everybody else, and it seemed as if
a corpse was lying in his house awaiting burial.

Captain Lisle was satisfied and exultant. He did not
want an open rupture with his bride until after marriage,
and he refrained from visiting the house, though it was un-
derstood throughout the village that he was to marry the

 

 
 

“itt spy or 1776. 67

farmer’s daughter on a certain day. He notified a minister
to be in attendance, and trusted to the father to have the
bride ready at the appointed time.

Mollie's conversation with the Parson had been brief, but
it had given her new hope and a braver heart. While she
felt that she owed every ‘respect to her parent, and that his
wishes should be obeyed, she also felt that she should have
a voice in a momentous affair concerning her life-happi-
ness. Linked to one whom she hated at first sight, what
would her life be?

She made no preparations for the marriage. She hoped
that the Parson would come again, or that Captain Tracy
would break through the British lines and capture Captain
Lisle. She felt sure that something would happen to post-
pone the proposed ceremony, but the days wore away and
nothing occurred. The murder of the soldier by Crazy
Dan had been discovered, and also the game which Parson
Warner played on the soldier, and the fear of spies rendered
the British provost-guard unusually vigilant. No word from
the Parson—no message from Captain Tracy, and as the
morning set for the marriage finally dawned, the girl nerved
herself to stand out against them all alone and unsup-
ported.

“ This is the morning of your marriage,” said the father,
as they sat at tiie breakfast-table.

His voice was harsh and unfeeling, and she would not re-
ply.

“The minister and the captain will be here at ten o'clock,”
he went on, “‘and the ceremony wiil not be delayed on ac-
count of your dress.”

“Tt will not be me who will ask for delay!” she said, in
her quiet way.

And the father congratulated himself on having broken

 
 

 

  

68 MAD DAN,

her spirit. He changed his apparel, and though he won-
dered why she did not follow his example, he made no
suggestion, determined to carry out his threat of obliging
her to stand up as she was in case she persisted in her ob-
stinacy. :

The captain, clergymen and several villagers came at the
appointed hour. Mollie had retired to her room half au
hour previous, but came down-stairs promptly when her
father sent word by a servant. The guests were seated in
the parlor, and as she entered they noticed how pale she
was and yet what determined resolution was to be read in
her eyes.

The minister rose and opened his book, and Captain Lisle
stepped forward to take her hand. His steps were checked
by the sight of a pistol leveled at his head. Her movement
was so sudden as to completely surprise every one, but it
needed no second look to show how terribly in earnest she
was.

“Tf there is to be a marriage ceremony here this morn-
ing I shall wed your corpse!” she said, her voice sounding
strangely unnatural, and her,lips hardly parting as the words
were uttered.

“Mollie!” called the father, recovering from his surprise
at last. ‘‘ What does this mean?—lower that pistol!”

He started to cross the room, when, without moving her

eyes from the captain, she said:
‘* Tf you come nearer I will shoot him dead in his tracks

‘For Heaven’s sake turn it a little one side!” pleaded the
captain, whose face was paler than hers, and who feared that
she had become insane.

For a moment no one spoke or moved. Every eye was
upon the girl, and she held the pistol straight for the cap-
tain’s face without a shake or a tremble of the arm. There

r

I Te Nea re MIRNA eee PPB,

 

   

~

  
;
eT TR RI A EEE STEN INE PPR Pees

wae

 

%

 

THE spy or 1776. 6%

was something like admiration in the father’s eyes as he
looked. He had pridéd himself upon his word and upcn
his courage to carry out his resolves, but had forgotten that
she had as good, brave blood in her veins, She, a weak and
helpless girl, dared them and braved them, and in his heart
he was proud of her. _

“T will never marry you—never /” she said, in a low
voice to Captain Lisle. ‘‘ A thousand fathers might urge,
or plot or plan, but I would die before saying the words
which would make me your wife! Go out, now, all of you!
If there is one left in this room at the end of two minutes
I will shoot him dead!” :

The captain moved upon the instant, and in thirty sec-
onds the room was cleared of all but father and daughter.
Then she lowered the weapon, and said:

“‘My answer will always be the same! I will not marry
him, but in other requests I will obey you!”

She walked out of the room, and he sat there like one
deprived of the power of speech, wondering if she who had
dared them all could be his daughter.

Captain Lisle felt that he had had a narrow escape.
Looking into her eyes he had seen desperation and resolution
there, and he went to his head-quarters without a thought
of forcing the marriage through. Her action had given him
a new feeling toward her—a desire for revenge. The story
of his plotting and of his being baffled at the muzzle of a
pistol would be heralded throughout the army, and he would
be made the laughing-stock of every man in uniform. Were
it any thing but a love-scrape he would not have cared so
much; but, as it was, he felt as if he could strangle the girl
for disgracing him.

Plainly seeing that even with the father on his side he
could neither cajole nor force her into a marriage, he drop

~ © wr ened

 
   

70 MAD DAN,

ped the idea and thought only of revenge. Such revenge as
he proposed would break the force of his disgrace, and he
would have only himself to depend upcn. ‘the first move
was to get rid of the presence of the father, and the captain
called ina private soldier whom he could trust to do any-
thing which a villain could be bribed into performing.
They held a low conversation for a few minutes, and as a
result a file of soldiers were dispatched to bring Stephen
Grakam in a prisoner,

He came with them, so indignant that he could hardly
speak.

‘* Am I under arrest?” he demanded, as soon as brought
before the captain.

‘“You must so consider yourself,” replied the officer, in a
gentle voice. ‘‘It is a most unpleasant affair for me, and L
hesitated long before obeying orders, but I am forced to
obey or subject myself to disgrace and dismissal.”

‘“ What is the ground for this. outrage?’ demanded Gra-

_ ham, his anger increased.

‘““The specific charges have not been forwarded to me in
writing, as yet,” replied the captain, ‘‘but Ican give you
their substance. A private soldier named Richard Harrison,
now stationed at this post, charges that, on the night of the

battle on your farm, he saw you deliberately aim at and -

shoot down two British soldiers. Colonel ‘Tarleton will be
here, in a day or two, to order a court-martial and investi-
gate the charges, which I earnestly and truly hope cannot be
sustained, against you. Meanwhile I shall have to keep
you a prisoner under guard.”

   

 

 

 
 

 

 

THE spy OF 1776.

CHAPTER XIV.
MORE ADVICE FROM THE PARSON.

Tr was a bad sprain which Parson Warner got, and it re-
quired all his patience and fortitude to bear the pain and the
delay without giving vent to impatience. He was not so far
from the British camp but that he could hear the sentinels as
they challenged, but it was impossible for him to change his
location. Between the pain and the anxiety he found him-
self unable to sleep, and when morning came, his situation
was most unpleasant.

‘Parson, thou shouldst have known better than to come
on such an errand,” he soliloquized, angry at himself, but
after a time he concluded: ‘‘But thou needst not get mad’
about it, for anger will do thee no good.”

His fear was that the soldiers would come after more
straw and discover him, but soon after daylight a drizzling
rain-storm commenced, and he saw but little movement
around the camp. His apples furnished'a breakfast, and he
did not feel the want of water. The rain continued all day
and part of the night, and the Parson was not once disturbed.
The pain lessened a little toward night, and he secured sey-
eral hours’ sleep, but next morning found that it would still
be a considerable time before he could escape from his _re-
treat.

That day passed without incident, as did another night,
and when the morning of the next day came, the Parson
found his ankle in good condition, but he was out of food
and had been for hours. He had only to wear away the

 
 

  

1% MAD DAN,

day and wait for darkness, but if he had been less a Chris-
tian, he would have cursed the tedious hours for their slow
drag.

About noon he came near being discovered. An army
wagon drove up to the pile and two soldiers loaded it with
straw, taking some of it from directly over him, but they
neither wounded him with their forks nor discovered him.
He could hear every word of their conversation, and he
picked up the information that Tarleton and the larger por-
tion of his men had that day pushed on to the North, leay-
ing only a few men behind to besiege the mountaineers.

‘* Now see what an idiot thou wast to get impatient at
delay,” said the Parson to himself. ‘‘ Here thou hast se-
cured information of value which could have been received
in no other way, and information which Captain Tracy can
make good use of. I'd advise thee to hereafter be contented
with what comes.”

The stack was not approached again during the day, and

night set in dark and rainy., The Parson left his hiding-'

place as soon as it was prudent to do so, but found that he
must go slow and choose his steps, as the ankle was yet
weak and the pain considerable. Pushing his way along
through the fields at a cautious pace, and resting now and
then, he was yet two miles from the mountain at midnight.
He was about to clamber over a fence, when he heard a
footstep, and he sunk down and crawled into a corner.
The step came nearer, and after a moment he made out a
form coming right into his corner. Concealment was no
longer possible, and the Parson said:

‘‘Didst thou wish to see me, friend?”

‘Oh! skunks to gracious!” shouted a voice which he re-
cognized as belonging to Crazy Dan.
‘Daniel, it is I—Parson Warner; come here!”

  

 

 

 
 

 

%

THE spy or 1776. B

“‘T thought it was a b’ar!” replied Daniel, greatly relieved,
and he immediately walked, forward.

The Quaker was curious to learn how he had. escaped
from the jail, but he did not receive satisfactory explana-
tions. The lunatic could, not remember, and was. excited
and enthusiastic over his exploit of killing the British soldier.

“Daniel, I have no faith that. thou hast slain even a
mouse,” said the Parson, when he had heard the story,
“but this is not the time or place to discuss the question..
If thou intendest to accompany me to the Pass, I have a.
word for thee. Let-thy idle tongue be still and keep thy
ears and eyes open to discover danger.”

“‘ Pll walk along as softly as a wildcat,” replied Dan, and
he aided the Parson over the fence, and they went forward.
The lunatic seemed to fear danger for once in his life, creep-
ing along without noise and acting like a crafty scout. A
British picket was likely to be stationed in the road within
half a mile of the Pass, and as they came near the moun-
tain, the pair were forced by the nature of the. ground to
creep along within three or four rods of the road, The lu-
natic was ahead, skulking along like a shadow, when the
jingle of spurs was heard in the road, and the Quaker real-
ized that they were abreast of the picket. Dan did not un-
derstand, and he was about to speak out, when his compan-
ion griped his arm and whispered:

‘* Daniel, those men over there will kill us if thou speak-
est or makest a noise! I pray Heaven to give thee reason
for the coming fifteen minutes!”

“T don’t care for—-”

The lunatic was speaking in his natural voice when the
Parson grasped him by the throat and cut his sentence short.
Tle was still choking him, when he heard a moye at the
picket post, and next moment some one said;

 
 

 

  

“Tt surely sounded like a voice!”

“Oh! pshaw!” replied his comrade; ‘if any one was
skulking around here, they wouldn’t be speaking out loud!”

They were not thirty feet away, and if Dan had struggled,
discovery must surely have resulted. But the choking was
a better argument than any other which could have beecu
brought forward. Feeling that the Parson must be obeyed,
he cowered down and did not even seek to pull his neck
from the grasp which made breathing difficult. The soldiers
walked back after listening in vain for a repetition of the
sounds, and then the Parson whispered:

‘* Now creep on until I tell thee to stop! If thou speak-
est again, I will doctor thy back with a switch!”

After the lapse of ten minutes they were past all danger
from the picket, when they crept into the road and followed it
to the Pass. A hundred rods from the British picket they
were challenged by a mountaineer, and soon after were in
Captain Tracy’s camp. The mountaineers were closely penned
up and had been inactive for several days. Not a word had
been heard of the Parson since he left, and it had been con-
eluded that he had been captured and hung. The men
crowded around to shake hands with him. Dan had brought
his blood-stained butcher-knife along, and even the Parson
was convinced that there was truth in his excited assertion.

“‘T have something for thy private ear,” said the Parson
‘to Captain ‘Tracy, and they drew aside. He madea clear
statement, remembering and repeating all that had passed
between him and Mollie, and his words distressed the captain
not a little.

“She does not love this Captain Lisle?” he inquired.

‘*She gave me to understand to the contrary.”

“And if we could reach Plainwell she would leave home
and return with us?” i

  
i)

rire SPY OF 1776. 7

‘Rather than be forced into a marriage which she abhors,
I think she would.”

“Then we shall be in Plainwell the night before the mar-
riage!” continued the captain, in a determined tone.

Having ascertained that Tarleton had departed north, he
thought his band might ride through and over the British
force left to watch him. The Parson was opposed to such a
movement, as there would surely be a battle between the
Pass and the village, and the village would be alarmed by the
sound, and be prepared to defend the place.

‘* But, if thou canst not be a lion, thou canst be a fox,” he
added. ‘‘It seems to me that with thy knowledge of the
roads thou might take ten men and ride softly into town
without burning any powder.”

The idea was seized upon at once, and the captain had
faith that his object could be successfully: accomplished.
That was Friday morning, and the marriage was to take
place Monday morning, unless he could prevent it.

CHAPTER XV.
A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.

Norutne was said to the men in regard to the proposed
raid, but Captain Tracy selected out ten of them whom he
knew he could depend on in any emergency, and ordered
them to hold themselves on call. He did not propose to
move until Sunday night, but he had a programme to carry
out during the two days intervening.

Scouts were sent down the mountain a distance of ten
miles, to where a road ran eastwardly, to see if it was guarded.

 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

  

78 MAD DAN,

It was not, and by striking this road the captain could move
eastwardly to the Virginia road, and then go into Plainwell
from the south, and avoid the force watching him.

The Colonial and the British pickets had been skirmishing
more or less every day, but the captain now ordered that his
men refrain from firing or provoking the fire of the enemy,
in order that the red-coats might not be roused to activity.

Tarleton had not made any inquiry after the captured offi-
cer sincé the execution of his companion, and the prisoner
was still with the Colonists, kindly treated, but carefully
guarded. |The captain had used every precaution to prevent
the officer from receiving a hint of what was contemplated,
though not suspecting that the man had plans of his own.
The time dragged along until noon Sunday, and every prepar-
ation had been made for the raid, when something happened
to force a postponement.

The British officer had refused a parole, and would not
give his word of honor not to attempt an escape, so that the
mountaineers were forced to treat him like a criminal. He
had a tent to himself, and a soldier was constantly on guard
between it and the road.

At noon Sunday the majority of the men were at dinner,
and the picket force had been reduced to a single sentinel.
The men were camped in a bit of a valley to the right of the
rocky road, and around them the cliffs shot up seventy or
eighty feet high. A sudden tearing and crashing was heard,
and as they looked up the soldiers saw a great mass of rock
tearing itself loose. There was a general cry of alarm, and
all ran for the road to get clear of danger. The British offi-
cer ran with the rest, and he took advantage of the excite-
ment and was over the breastwork before any one knew that
he was seeking to escape. Several soldiers pursued, and
others rhouted to alarm the sentinel, but the officer was

  
THE spy oF 1776. U7

neither overtaken nor stopped, and in a short time was among “Soa
his friends.

Captain Tracy waited with considerable anxiety to see what
would follow. The enemy was almost instantly aroused
from his lethargy, and within an hour moved up about two
hundred men, and opened a hot fire, which ended in a charge
against the breastwork. It had been prepared for, but so de-
termined was the charge, that several of the enemy mounted
the rocks, and seven or eight mountaineers were killed in the
fight. When the enemy was finally driven back, there were
his dead to see to, and a strong picket had to be thrown out
to guard against a surprise. An almost incessant fire was
kept up between the opposing pickets until night set in, and
then there was no trusting the enemy not to attack again.

“Thou must choose between being a soldier or a lover,”
said the Parson, who realized how many difficulties stood in
the way of the contemplated raid.

“T will be a soldier!” replied the captain, though man
never uttered words with a heavier heart. His first lieuten-
ant had been wounded in the fight, his force had been re
duced, there were comrades and enemies to be buried, sur-
prise to be guarded against, and he could not go.

“‘Thee need not lose all hope,” continued the Parson.
“Providence can interpose to prevent the marriage; and if
the girl has the courage which yas to the Grahams, she
would be no party to the ceremony.”

The bodies of the dead were tenderly lifted up and oaks
back to their graves, and the enemy’s dead were sent out to
him under a flag of truce. Captain. Tracy superintended
every thing, but his mind was not with him. He was con-
stantly thinking of the marriage which was proposed on the
morrow, and of his inability to prevent it. He had little
hopes that the daughter could successfully defy father, lover,

 
  

MAD DAN,

and the other influences which would surround her; but if
she had not gone willingly to the altar, he would revenge
her.

Morning looked down upon sorrowful, haggard faces, upon
great blood-stains, broken muskets and other evidences of a
struggle in which death had been the victor. When the
Parson, standing with uncovered head, prayed for those who
had fallen, the men removed their caps and could not repress
their tears; and when he said that liberty was a boon whose
price was the blood of the patriotic and the brave, each
mountaineer felt himself ready to renew the struggle.

Captain Tracy had nothing to say about the proposed raid,
ard those who had been in the secret believed that he had
abandoned the idea. When morning fully broke he posted
men on the rocks, who reported the red-coats encamped fully
two miles away, and as quiet as before the fight. They had
made three desperate attempts to carry the Pass, losing heavily
each time; and it was concluded by their inactivity that they
had decided to abandon ‘urther hope of driving the moun-
taineers out of their position.

No one thought of Dan until noon, and then he could not
be found, nor could any one recollect of having seen him
since the battle. It was finally concluded that he had got
frightened and ran away, and no further attention was given
his case,

There was no movement on the part of the British during
the day, and when night came the captain called to Parson
Warner and whispered:

‘‘T am going to Plainwell to-night!”

‘*May Heaven preserve thee!” replied the Quaker, much
astonished.

‘** There will be no attack to-night,” resumed the captain;
“‘and I think that the battle of last night may have delayed

   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

  

THE spy oF 1776. 19

the ceremony set down for this morning: If she will come,
I will bring Mollie back before morning, whether married or
not.”

The Parson was almost tempted to go along, and would
have gone but for his inability to stand the continued gallop
which the little band would get. He was forced to remain
behind, but, when night came and the party were ready to
move, he sought the captain and whispered:

‘*Thou knowest that I am a man of peace by nature, and
that my religion forbids bloodshed, but thou art also aware
that I love liberty and. my country, and if thou gettest a
chance thou may strike an extra blow and mark it down in
my name.”

There were ten brave, well-mounted men beside the cap-
tain, and at eight o’clock the horses were jumped over the
breastwork and the men mounted and rode to the south, wil-
ling to follow their leader wherever he might go.

CH Ae one V Ls
THE CAPTAIN’S PLOT.

StEPHEN GRAHAM did not pass a word with his daughter
during the balance of the day. He was highly displeased
that she had dared to disobey him and create a village scan-
dal, and yet he felt an admiration for her bravery, Between
the two feelings striving for mastery he was compelled tv re-
main neutral. He knew what she would say if he attacked
her, but yet he hesitated to open the subject, and therefore
he sauntered in and out, and she kept her room, and the
hours wore away without their having, spoken.

   

  
 

  

80 MAD DAR,

The fartner was not surprised when he opened his door and
found a file of soldiers there, but he was amazed when in-
formed that he must go with them to Captain Lisle’s quarters.

“ Must go!” he repeated. ‘‘ Why, you speak as if I were
a prisoner!”

‘©So you must consider yourself!” replied the corporal, in a

~ quiet voice.

The daughter had overheard the words, and she came
down and stood beside her father. She was very pale, and
he saw that she had been weeping.

“Have they arrested you!” she asked.

eeryes.”

“What for?”

“*T will not know until I see Captain Lisle.”

“Go along with the soldiers, and if they seek to hold you
a prisoner I will ride until I find Tarleton or some one who
can tell me why British soldiers arrest loyal citizens!”

Mr. Graham went with the soldiers to Captain Lisle, and
the result is known to the reader. Instead of being placed
under guard he was confined in the jail, and the jailer was.
told to allow him no privileges until his case was decided

As soon as the news reached Mollie that her father had
been sent to the jail, charged with a serious offense, she made
her way to Captain Lisle’s quarters. He received her as if
nothing had occurred, asking:

“To what am I indebted for this honor?”

‘‘T came to see about father,” she replied.

“Your father—ahem; the charge is a very serious one.”

“But it is false!” she said, with a considerable show of
spirit. ‘‘ Every one knows that my father’s greatest fault is
in thinking better of the British soldiers than they deserve.”

‘“‘ An investigation may disclose his innocence,” replied the
captain, feeling the thrust; ‘‘at least I hope it will. My

     
   
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
THE spy or 1776. 81

own situation is an unpleasant one, as you must .ppreciate,
and I wish that I could have avoided making the arrest.”

“How long will he be held before a court-martial sits?”

“I can not say,” he replied. ‘‘ There’s fighting all around
us, and they will be apt to delay his case. It may be a
month.”

““My father lying there for a month!” she exclaimed,
aghast at the idea. ‘‘ He shall not if any effort on my part
can prevent. I suppose that an order from-General Tarleton
would release him?”

“‘ Most assuredly, and could you get such an order I should
rejoice almost as much as you. But he is fifty miles to the
north.”

‘I can ride there by daylight,” she said, in a determined
voice. ‘‘I will start within an hour.”

‘“‘The road is a dangerous one for a lady unless escorted.
Let me beg that you will accept of the guidance and protec-
tion of my orderly, who will be instructed to find the Gen-
eral at the earliest moment. He is an honest, courageous
man, and I am sure that your father would not approve of
your going on such a journey unattended.”

She was going to refuse any escort, but a little reflection
convinced her that the captain spoke advisedly of the dangers,
of the route. Wagons were going and coming, small parties
of cavalry were scouting up and down, and she realized that
the route would be perilous enough even with the company
of the orderly. She replied that she would accept the escort
and departed in search of a horse. One was easily found,
the villagers being glad to render the brave and handsome
girl every assistance.

She had scarcely left head-quarters when Captain Lisle
called in his orderly, the same soldier who had preferred the
charges against Graham.

 
it
Et
ina
ft

+

ee

eres

payer ore

 

82 MAD DAN,

“*Tt is all fixed!” he said, in an exultant tone; ‘‘you are
to go along.”

‘And she won’t suspect?” asked the soldier,

“Not in the least. Now, about the house; you are sure
that it-is secure?”

“Stout as a jail, with good locks on the doors, and the
windows boarded over. Ten miles north and. half a mile
east, with no other house within half a mile.”

““That’s good. Don’t raise any muss. if you can help it.
Lock the door as you come away, and I’ll meet. you.on the
road somewhere. We must concoct some excuse to delay
your start until dark.”

The girl was ready for the journey at four o’clock, but
the orderly had io gallop off with an order and the start
was delayed. She was not allowed to. visit her father in
his cell, and returned home to. wait until the orderly should
appear.

She found a visitor there; Crazy Dan had entered by the
back door, and when discovered he had spread the table and
was helping himself to dinner.

““The soldiers will kill you. if they find you here!” she
exclaimed, in alarm; but he was not disturbed Seeing that
he was. in a quiet. mood and could understand her, she made
many inquiries about the mountaineers and. their captain.

“They had a. big fight and I ran away,” he explained.
* Captain Tracy wanted me to keep. watch of you, and I
flew over the. trees aod crawled through the grass.”

“Daniel,” she, said, putting her hand on his arm, ‘I
want to tell, you. something, and. you must remember every
word I say.”

“1 will,” he answered; ceasing to eat.

“Well; then, they have arrested father. and put him in
jail. 1 am going to ride a good many miles to find the

*
¥

THE spy oF 1776. 83

big General of the red-coats and see if he will not let father
out. If you should go back to the mountain, and Captain
Tracy should ask you about me, can you remember to tell
him this?”

“‘T can if my head doesn’t ache,” he replied; ‘‘ when my
head aches I forget everything!”

During the next hour she managed to glean from him
the fact that the Parson had made a safe return. The good
man had said that she should hear from or see him before
the day appointed for the ceremony, but he had not kept
his promise. The battle was a partial explanation, and she
had to be satisfied with this. Dan could tell her nothing
which she desired to know, but, after ascertaining that he
meant to return that night, she wrote a letter to her lover,
explaining every thing from first to last. The lunatic had
a passion for silver, and when she gave him a number of
coins he promised to safely deliver the letter that night.

She knew that the soldiers would shoot him if he was
discovered in the village, they knowing that it was he who
committed the murder in the grove, and she warned him
again and again not to leave the house until dark, and then
not to loiter around the village.

He grew morose and sullen after eating, and half an hour
before sundown, when tlie tardy orderly at last appeared, the
boy was sound asleep on the floor.

“Be very careful, Thomas, that no harm comes to the
young lady,” said Captain Lisle, as he came to see them off,
and to the lady herself, he said:

‘Tf you will remain here I will write a letter and send it
through by courier.”

“‘T can tell General Tarleton more than you can write,”
was her answer; and she galloped away, followed by the
orderly. The horses were fresh and did not break their

 
   

  

84 MAD DAN,

gallop for miles. An hour after starting the orderly halted
a moment to speak to a wagon-driver, and then he rode up
beside the girl, and said:

‘“ We turn to the east, at the next cross-road, General
Tarleton has changed his location, and is only twenty miles
away.”

CHAPTER XVII.
THE RIDE TO PLAINWELL.

THE night chosen by Captain Tracy was a favorable one
for his purpose, and, the British cavalry were wonderfully
quiet after their severe defeat of Sunday. The little band
passed up the south road at a gallop, and encountered no
one until coming to the cross-road leading east to the Vir-
ginia Road. Few cabins along the way had escaped the
torch, and in many cases the fences had also been destroy-
ed. The women and children had been hurried into the
mountain passes, and the husbands, fathers and brothers
were soldiers at the front, or were with Captain Tracy.

At the cross-roads, as the little band drew up their horses
to rest for a short time, they were suddenly startled by the
voice of an old woman named Nancy Gray, one of the old-
est and oddest characters along the range.

All the men knew her well, but were amazed to come
upon her at such an hour and in such a place. There was
not a house within five miles of them, and the woman was
old and weak.

“Oh, ho!” she laughed, as the band drew rein; ‘‘ I know
you all, though I can’t see your faces, There’s Captain

 
THE spy oF 1776. 83

Tracy, Tom Davey, Dick Taylor, John Williams, and I see
all the others.”

‘“*She’s gone crazy!” whispered the men, to each other.

‘*You are too late, Captain Tracy!” continued the crone,
climbing down from the rock on which she was perched.
‘There has been planning, plotting and devilish work, and
you won't find her in Plainwell!”

‘“Do you mean Mollie Graham?” asked the captain, in a
whisper.

‘Of course! of course!” croaked the woman. ‘ She’s,
riding away to the north, followed by a soldier. They will
ride ten miles north and half a mile east, and then—”

“Then what?”

““T won't tell!” she laughed—‘ ho! ho! ho! but there’s
been devitish plotting!”

The woman had always borne the reputation of being a
weather prophet, fortune-teller and so forth, and the captain
felt a little awed at her words.

‘‘ Have you been in Plainwell?” he asked.

‘‘ No—no—no!” she screamed, “but can’t I read the
stars, the sun, the moon, the darkness? I tell you that the
blue-eyed Mollie has started on a journey! Remember, ten
- miles north and a half a mile east!” 2

‘‘ Who is planning against her?” he asked.

**T won’t tell—I won’t! I won’t!” she croaked, hobbling
away over the rocks; and as her form was lost in the dark-
ness she commenced chanting a wild song. The men lis-
tened until her voice died away, and when the captain gave
the order to go forward they followed him without a word.
The horses were held at a steady gallop for an hour, and
then they came to the Virginia Road and turned toward
Plainwell. They would reach the town soon after midnight
if meeting with no opposition.

 
   

  

86 MAD DAN,

The words of the old crone had made Captain Tracy
anxious for a time, but as he came nearer the village and
thought of the excitement which the advent of his band
would create, he forgot her croaking. A council was held
at the cross-roads. The men were instructed to keep to-
gether, spare noncombatants, and be ready to gallop out of
the village at the word. When his instructions were fairly
understood the captain gaye the order to go forward.

The farmers along the Virginia Road were mostly Tories,
and their property had been spared. When the men noticed
this they were anxious for retaliation, but the captain refused
to entertain the idea, knowing that widows and fatherless
children must suffer with the rest if he permitted the torch
to be lighted. Coming nearer Plainwell, the gallop was re-
duced to a walk, and at length they were quietly passing
along the main street of the village. Being miles away from
the mountain and the Colonists, the British had posted no
picket. A sentinel was on duty around Captain Lisle’s
head-quarters, but the Colonists did not ride in that di-
rection. The Parson had described the house which the
Grahams had taken possession of, and Captain Tracy drew
up his band at the gate without having disturbed a soldier
or a villager.

He had decided what to do with the father. He would ask
Mollie to go back with them, and if she went the father might
go along willingly or be taken as a prisoner. If she refused
to go, then he would ride away and leave both undisturbed.

There was no stir about the house, and the captain’s
knocks were unanswered. He rapped until certain that
there was no one in the house, and was just turning away
when a Tory living opposite was alarmed and began shout-
ing. It was hardly a moment before a soldier fired his mus-
ket, and soon the whole provost-guard turned out.

 
THE spy or 1776. 87

Captain Tracy stood by his horse, and his men waited for
his word. He could leave the village without. firing a shot,
or he could dash into the soldiers and strike a blow for the
cause as he satisfied his own thirst for vengeance. The sol-
diers set fire to a pile of boxes in the street, and the first
shots had been fired when Crazy Dan came running up to
the Colonists.

“I kuow where they are—I know all about it!” he ex-
claimed. ‘‘The handsome girl has gone off and her father
is in the jail! She told me all about it!”

‘See here, Dan, tell me the truth or I will have you shot!”
replied the captain. ;

‘‘T am—I am!” he shouted, dodging, as a bullet flew close
to him. ‘‘ Here’s what she wroted and told me to give you!”

The captain received the letter, but. there was no time to
read it. The provost-guard had formed across the street
and opened fire, andthe little band could not longer be re-
strained.

‘They shall have a:taste of both lead and steel!” said the
captain, as he mounted. ‘‘Come on; now, and don’t spare
a head!”

With a ringing yell the Colonists dashed forward at a gal-
lop, spreading. out. across the street, and next moment they
had dashed through the line, cutting and hacking wherever
they could reach.a foe. Re-forming, they returned, and the
enemy scattered, up, and. down, and sought refuge in the
yards and behind buildings.

“‘ Where is Captain.Lisle?” asked. Tracy, of a British sol-
dier who had been struck down.

‘He rode. away.to the north about nine o’clock, alone,”
replied the man.

“Was he married to-day? and is Stephen Graham in jail?”
continued the captain.

 
88 MAD DAR,

The man said ‘‘no” to the first and ‘‘yes” to the last,
and it went through the captain’s mind like a flash that the
arrest of the father was a piece of individual spite, and that
the absence of Captain Lisle had something to do with the
absence of the young lady. He sought to decipher her let-
ter, but the flames wavered about, and the smoke was so
heavy that he could only catch now and then a word.

His men were charging up and down, keeping the square
clear, and the villagers were shouting and yelling as if an-
ticipating a massacre. Discovering how small the opposing
force was, the British formed again and opened the fight
with such spirit that Captain Tracy saw that he must evacu-
ate the place, though he had accomplished nothing of his
programme. A horse and a man were struck down as he
mounted, and he gave the word:

‘Ride straight down upon the line and hack it to pieces!”

Yelling and cheering, the Colonists followed him, and the
line melted as they struck it and used their sabers. The
men were not content with that, but they charged back and
forth, slashing and cutting, and the British force was again
obliged to scatter and retreat. No one knew how an old
building near the scene of the last fight became ignited, but
the flames suddenly took hold and blazed up, and the Colo-
nists left the town with a great mass of flame shooting up to
light the way. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and before
the flames ceased feeding there was hardly a building left
standing.

‘Ride at a gallop,” said the captain, as the sound of ¢
field-piece from the direction of the Pass showed that the
British force there stationed had caught the alarm.

 

   

)
:
:
mie sby of 1776, 89

OHA P-TRER: ZWEI LL.
‘(TEN MILES NORTH—HALF A MILE EAST.”

Motiir Granam felt rejoiced at the orderly’s news that
Tarleton was nearer than anticipated. She could perhaps
reach him, plead her case, receive an order, and reach Plain-
well and free her father by daylight. She hoped she might,
for she realized how the hours would drag to the proud-
spirited father shut up like a common malefactor. :

She had forgiven him for his exercise of tyranny, and
thought only of him as a kind and indulgent father whose
safety was menaced by a villain. From the first she had re-
garded the charge as one which could not be supported, and
dwelling upon the matter had convinced her that the arrest
had grown out of a desire for revenge. If so, she would
checkmate Captain Lisle by procuring her father’s release.
She had no fear that any plot had ‘been entertained respect-
ing her own safety, and the orderly’s conduct was not such
as to give rise to suspicion. Coming to the cross-roads she
drew rein until he came up.

‘“We must halt again, if you please,” he said, “‘at the top
of the hill, just after you cross the creek, half a°mile further
on. There’s a wounded soldier there, and I have a letter
for him.”

She made no reply, but led the way again, and in four or
five minutes halted opposite the log-house, which stood back
about two hundred feet from the road. There was a gap in
the fence, and as the orderly came up he said:

“Tf you would please hold my rein I wouldn’t be a min-
ute.”

 
  

   

     

90 MAD DAN,

He rode in close to the house and she followed, taking his
bridle-rein as he dismounted. He ran around to the rear
door, and she heard him rap and then the sound of voices.
Next moment she saw a light in the house, which had been
dark enough before. There was not the least suspicion of
the plot, and when it was revealed she was totally unpre-
pared.

‘“The poor fellow has got to die!” said the orderly, as he
came out.

He reached for his rein, and as she passed it he seized her
by the wrists and pulled her from the saddle. She had
landed on the ground before she struggled or screamed.

“*Twon’t do any good!” he growled, as she uttered a loud
scream and fought with desperation. ‘‘ Right in you go,
and your yelling is breath thrown away!”

In spite of her struggles he dragged her forward, and in a
moment they were in the house, when he released her and
shut the door,

“There! that’s all I agreed to do!” he said, ‘‘and you
needn’t be afraid of me. I was hired to trap you in this
house, and here you are!”

He had looked to see her faint away, but was disap-
pointed. She was very pale, but her eyes flashed as she asked:

‘“Who employed you?”

“I might as well.tell, because he will be here in an hour
or two. It was Captain Lisle.”

She made no reply, but sat down in one of the heavy old
chairs, and the room whirled around for 4 moment. She
saw the whole plot now, but her courage came back as she
comprehended it. The orderly took up a pail and went out
after water, and when he came back he placed. caadles and
matches before. her, opened the cupboard. and showed her a
supply of coarse food, and then said:
NR si

\h-

THE spy or 1776, 91

“Well, ?m off now. If the captain shouldn’t come to-
night, you have every thing here you want. You needn’t |
waste any time trying to get out, because every thing is as
stout as a jail!”

She sat where she was for a long ten minutes after hear-
ing him ride away. The blow had come so sudden that
she could not feel its full force until she came to think.
Her heart began to sink as she remembered that her father
was in jail, her lover. unable to reach her, and that she was
the prisoner of a thorough villain. Starting up as she felt
her courage going, she examined the door and windows to
see if she could not escape. The orderly had spoken truly
when he said that the house was secure. ‘Those who had
vacated it had used boards and nails until a burglar would
have had trouble to break in or out. Mollie would not
give up until she had made the round and examined every.
thing.

There was considerable furniture in the house, and pro-
visions enough to last several days. There was no cellar,
but a ladder led to a garret above, and she took up the can-
dle and mounted the rungs until she could see that it was
empty. There was no window above, no way of escaping
by the roof, and she had to make up her mind that she was
a prisoner fast and secure.

lt was soon after nine o’clock when she had been trapped,
and it was half an hour after eleven before she heard any
movement outside. Then she caught the gallop of a horse,
heard some one dismount at the door, and next moment
Captain Lisle entered the house, The light was on the table,
and she sat in a chair facing the door,

“T beg that you will excuse my boldness,” he said, as
he stood before her.

“Sir, you are a scoundrel and a villain!” she replied,

 
   

  

92 MAD DAN,

feeling more angered than frightened. ‘I have fathomed
your plot, and you have no need to play the role of hypo-
crite.”

‘One in your situation should make a better choice of
words!” he said, in a threatening tone, and his smile vanish-
ing.

‘* You claim to be a gentleman, and you are an officer of
the British army, and yet you descend to villainy of which
a common thief might be ashamed!”

“You will take me for a husband in spite of my faults!”
he returned, laughing an evil laugh.

“T take you for a husband?”

‘‘That’s what you will do if you are wise!” he answered.
‘Your father promised me your hand; we were all ready
to be married, and then you suddenly chunged your mind
and enacted a scene which will disgrace me in the sight of .
every comrade.”

‘You did not ask my consent. If you knew any thing
you knew that I loathed you from first sight. I said this
morning that I would never marry you; here, to-night, I re-
peat my words!”

“Strong language, by heavens!” he ejaculated, leaping
up from the chair he had taken. ‘‘ Do you know that you
are my prisoner; at my mercy; that I can crush your proud
spirit—murder you if I choose?”

“T hear your threats, but I will not marry you!” she
replied. ‘‘ Linked to such a villain as you, I should end
my own life!”

The smile had entirely faded from his face, and she saw
it in its true guise. It was an evil face to look upon, and
she thought of a serpent as his eyes flashed and glittered
with anger. Those who had thought him handsome before
would have thought him a fiend now.

 
 

  

THE spy or i776. 98

‘*T have given you the alternative, which a wise woman
would accept,” he said, in a hoarse voice, going close up tu
her. ‘‘I will lawfully and legally marry you if you con-
sent, but if you do not, you may never leave this place
alive! It is a lonely road and no one will hear your shrieks
and cries! you have disgraced me, and you shall lift the bur-
den by a marriage, or—or—!”

She pointed to a bright red light streaming into the room
through the crevices between the boards nailed over the
window, and he turned and looked. He walked to the
door, swung it open, and the sight appalled him. The hea-
vens to the north seemed a mass of fire, and he knew that
Plainwell was burning.

“IT am going to the village,” he said, in a quiet voice;
“but I shall come again to-morrow night. Look for me
and have your answer ready. There is but one alternative
—reject it at your peril!”

He shut and locked the door, mounted his horse, and she
heard him gallop furiously away.

CHAPTER XIX.
AT THE PASS.

As soon as Captain Tracy’s little band began to retreat,
the provost guard made haste to saddle up and pursue, and,
as they were ready to start, a detachment arrived from the Gra-
ham farm to join in with them. The excitement and indig-
nation were so intense that the soldiers would not move a
hand toward saving any property threatened by the flames, -

   

  
  

94 MAD DAN,

but, leaving the citizens to battle with the conflagration, they
pushed on after the daring raiders.

it was a long, persistent pursuit. Halting on the crest of
a hill two miles from the village, Captain Tracy lo ‘ked back
over the road and saw the British troopers take his trail.
The flames mounted up until the country was as light as day,
and the inhabitants were terror-stricken as they rose from
their beds and beheld the work of destruction. The Colon-
ists swept along at a steady gallop, interfering with no one
and making no halts, and the British horsemen followed like
wolves on the track.

The road running west was reached, and the gallop did
not flag. An hour after the Colonists struck the mountain
road, and here the pursuit ceased, neither party having fired a
shot. Riding slowly down the rough, dark road, shut in some-
times by jagged cliffs, and again open for a space so that
the glare of the burning village danced across the way, Cap-
tain Tracy had time for reflection. He was wondering what
news the letter handed him by Crazy Dan contained, when
the whole band were startled by a voice, from the rocks over-
head:

‘Burn and destroy—burn and destroy!”

It was the old crone, Aunt Nancy. The men halted and
called to her.

‘She wrote the captain a letter but he has lost it!’ croaked
the witch.

Captain Traey felt for the letter, and, to his consternation,
it was not to be found. He examined every pocket, and
even dismounted to make a closer search, but the letter was

missing. He had lost it in the village or along the road.

“Ho! ho! ho!” laughed Aunt Nancy, ‘“‘the letter is
gone—gone—gone! but I read it and I remember what it
said!”

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
THE spy or 1776. ‘ 95

“Come down here, Aunty!” called the captain, ‘‘ come
down and I will give you some silver!”

‘Oh! oh! but they believe what I say, they do! I’m an
old witch! I fly through the air and I wear a coat of fire,
which burns up the dew and the rain!”

She was descending from rock to rock as she shouted the
words, and presently her lean, gaunt form stood before the
little band. They had halted just where the red glare of the
great fire shot across the road between a break in the trees
along the base, and as the hag came iuto the light she seemed
a veritable old witch. Her long gray hair fluttered and
waved as she tossed her arms, and her eyes glittered and
burned as she peered up into the faces of the men.

«Bravo! bravo!” she shouted. ‘‘ You wounded some, you
killed some, and you fired the town! They rode fast, but T
was watching you and you rode the faster!”

The captain dismounted and approached, and held out his
hand, saying:

‘‘Here’s the silver, Aunt Nancy; now please tell me what
was in the letter.”

‘* She’s trapped! she’s trapped!” whispered the crone, plac-
ing her hand on his shoulder. ‘The serpent has coiled to
strike her, and she can’t escape.”

*“Yell me more, Aunty!” he whispered, handing her some
more silver. ‘‘She was not in the village—where did she
go?”

‘© Ten miles north—half a mile east!” she replied,dancing up
and down and waving her arms

‘Tell me more!”

‘“Hoo! hoo! Hoo-hoo!” screamed the woman, imitating
the notes of an owl. ‘‘I can’t stay—my owl is waiting—
good-by—hoo! hoo!”

She turned and leaped up the rocks with the agility of

 
 

96 MAD DAN,

a panther, and, though the captain rushed after her, she was
beyond his reach in a moment. He called to her again and
again, but she only answered with wild laughs, and was
presently beyond hearing. He mounted without a word to
the men, all of whom were deeply mystified, and scarcely a
word was exchanged between them until the Pass and the
camp were reached.

The conflagration had been observed by the men left be-
hind, and they were eager for the news. Parson Warner
was as excited and interested as the others, and as soon as
the captain had dismounted he accosted him:

‘Friend Tracy, I hope thou didst not purposely fire the
village?”

‘*Come to my tent—I want to talk to you,” replied the
captain, and when they were seated he gave him a detailed
account of the raid, repeating all that had been said by the
old witch.

“I think I see through the plot,” said the Quaker, as the
captain had finished. ‘The young lady would not consent
to the marriage, and the British captain would naturally feel
revengeful. He has imprisoned the father and abducted
the daughter, or else she rode away to her friends to escape
him.”

“But I can not help but ponder over the old crone’s
words—‘ ten miles to the north—half a mile to the east.’
What could she mean by them?”

“Let me see,” mused the Quaker. ‘‘ Ten miles north
of the viliage; that would bring thee exactly to the red
guide-board, where the log tavern was burned several years
ago. Half a mile east---up the Sweet Creek Road—would
be to the bridge and a little beyond. Half a mile—let me
think. There’s only one house there, that of the strange
man they call Lonely Webster.”

   

ea

  
THE spy oF 1776. 97

“That’s it, then!” exclaimed the captain, leaping up in
his excitement. ‘‘ She’s a prisoner in that house!”

“Thou must not get excited,” warned the Parson; ‘ it
is not safe to believe the muttered words of crazy women.”

“But how did Aunt Nancy know about the letter—the
battle in the village—the~—pursuit—my losing the letter?”
persisted the captain. ‘‘There’s something in this—I feel
certain of it.”

“There’s something passing strange, I admit. The ar-
rest of Stephen Graham would indicate a plot on the part of
the British captain, but what wilt thou do?”

‘‘ Make a visit to the house you have described, and if
she is not there, and I get no trace of her, I will go into the
village again!”

“‘ Thou will do nothing of the kind!’ replied the Parson,
*‘ and I will explain why.”

He stated that the burning of the village would arouse
the British to greater watchfulness than they had yet ex-
hibited, and might recall Tarleton and his force. The enemy
would now watch the Pass more closely, and make new ef-
forts against the mountaineers, who might be driven into
Tennessee after all. Orders might come from head-quarters
for them to evacuate the mountain and rejoin the army, and
Captain Tracy must be in his proper place.

‘‘Thou owest a greater duty to Liberty than to any thing
else,” continued the Parson, ‘‘and thou must remain here,
T am too old to take the field, and my religion forbids, but
I can go upon this errand for thee, and, if there is need
to burn powder in order to see justice done, I shall not hesi-
tate.”

It was long after daylight before they ceased arguing,
but the Quaker finally carried his point and it was settled
that he should go. During the day he was to pass down

ie

 
  

 

98 MAD DAN,

the mountain about twelve miles, and then, when he had
darkness to conceal his movements, he would strike across
the country to the house of Lonely Webster, a distance of
twenty miles.

CIA PT TR ae x
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.

Captain Liste left the prison-house because he felt cer-
tain that the mountaineers had made an attack, and as Mollie
watched the heavens brighten, she was no less certain that
the Parson had made good his word, and that her lover had
come for her. He would find her father in jail, and her
missing, and she prayed that some of the village people
might explain it to him, or that Crazy Dan might deliver
the letter, as he had promised. She could not say that the
letter or the fullest explanation of the cause of her depar-
ture would affect her present situation, because there would
be no one to tell him her programme had been changed by
the plotting of Captain Lisle; but yet, it was a consola-
tion to believe that her lover was in the village. The fire
grew brighter and brighter, until at length its serpent-like
shadows streamed clear across the floor. She watched them
until near daylight, when they grew paler and finally died
away.

Her own situation had hardly been thought of by the
prisoner, but now, as she remembered the words of the cap-
tain, and the look which had accompanied them, she deter-
mined on finding some method of escape. She knew the
house, having passed it several times, and she knew that in

“was a lonely road, and that she had no hope of escape ex

 

 

  
   

 

   

    

THE spy OF 1776. 99

cept by her own exertions, For an hour she passed around
and up and down, examining doors and windows, and vain-
ly exerting her strength, and then she sat down with the
conviction that she must remain a prisoner until the door
was opened. Her independent spirit and naturally brave
heart gave way at the utter helplessness of her situation,
and her tears fell for the fixst time. Father in jail, her
lover unaware of her situation, she helpless—the picture
was a gloomy one. Captain Lisle had plotted well, but he
would be cheated of his prey. She would neither consent
to marry him, nor should he secure revenge. When he came
at. night, he would find her dead.

As she sat there huggine her gloomy resolve, the voice of
some one far away peuetrated the house, and reached her
ear. She started up and listened, and as it came nearer, she
recognized the voice of Crazy Dan. He was singing in his
harsh, unmusical voice the words of a ballad which she
herself had taught him, or tried to teach him, and he seem-
ed to be passing along the road. What strange freak of
fancy had turned his steps that way, she did not stop to
ponder, but she called again and again to him, and almost
shrieked in despair as the heavy walls threw back her
cries. He did not hear her; he passed on, on, and his
voice was finally lost in the distance: Throwing herself down,
the girl sobbed and wept like one who had lost every
hope.

There it was again—-his wild song! Some vagary had
halted his steps, and turned him aside. The voice came
nearer and nearer, his steps sounded on the earth, and he
rapped heavily on the door, and shouted:

“ Wake up! wake up! the world is on fire!”

She was up in an instant, and running to the. window,
she called:
100 MAD DAN,

‘Dan! Dan! Dan! i am in here—Mollie Graham—Dan!
Dan!”

‘Ho! ho! wake up, I say!” he replied, seeming not to
recognize the voice.

“‘ Daniel! Daniel! don’t you know me?” she shrieked; ‘‘ I
am in the house—in here!”

‘“‘That’s Mollie! that’s Mollie!” he replied, in a changed
tone, and he shook the door heavily. ‘‘ Let me in, I say—
1 want to see you!”

She seized a chair, and smashed out several panes of
glass, and then her voice could reach him more distinctiy.
She told him that she was a prisoner unable to get out, and
he was excited in a moment. He endeavored to kick the
door in, and to wrench the boards off the windows, but fail-
ing in both cases, he ran off. She called to him, fearing
that he was going to desert her, but he neither halted nor
answered. Ten minutes passed, and as she was in despair
again she heard him slant a pole up against the roof, on the
rear side of the house, and presently he crept across the
roof. Then the dust and soot began to fall down the big
chimney upon the broad fireplace, and he drooped down with
a whoop and stood before her.

Her delight was so great that she seized his soot-colored
hands, and almost dragged him around the room. Hope
and courage came with him, and she felt that her escape
was assured.

‘Don't cry—I gave him the letter!” said the lunatic, as
he saw her tears of joy. ‘‘ Oh! how the guns fired, and the
soldiers shouted, and the houses burned!”

“ Sit down, Daniel, and tell me all about it,” she answer
ed, and he obeyed. Waiting until his excitement had some-
what subsided, she couched her language in the simplest
terms, and began to ask him questions. It was a hard task

   

 
  

     
4

CANO

2

THE spy oF 1'776. 101

to keep his mind on the subject five minutes at a time, and
she was a full hour obtaining the information desired. She
finally knew that Captain Tracy and a few men had raided
into the village; that her letter had been delivered; that
there had been a battle and a great fire, and then her mind
came back to her situation.

“Tf you will help me out of here and go with me to the
niountain, [ will give you a horse and a sword,” she said,
“and the captain will give you a soldier’s cap, and lots of
silver.”

“Daniel can’t stay!” he answered, in a decided voice.
‘“The world is going to burn up, and I must hurry and tell
all the people!”

She had some silver with her, and tried to bribe him,
but to her disappointment he was as firm as arock. He
even refused to attempt to break open the doors or the win-
dows, and as she continued to flatter and plead, he rose up,
saying:

“Daniel must go now; he can’t stay another minute!
Ho! ho! but the great big world is blazing and burning, and
the people don’t know it!”

She used every effort of language to detain him, and
even laid hold of him, but he shook her off and clambered
up the chimney like a squirrel. Sbe could not follow; and
when he had descended the roof, and his voice was lost in
the distance, her despair was deeper and darker than before
he came. Crouched down in the corner where she flung
herself when hope died out again, she hardly realized any
thing until the sun began to grow low in the west. Ina
few hours more Captain Lisle would come, and she must be
ready with her plans. A coil of rope hung to a peg in the
darkest corner, as if the old misanthrope who had inhabited
the house had feared to hang it where his eyes would meet

 
   

  

102) MAD DAN,

it. She walked over and took it down, but the touch of
the hempen ord gave her a thrill. She had thought to
hang herself with it, but she lacked the courage. Was there
not a little hope that her persecutor would fail to come?
A little hope that the lunatic would return and aid her to
escape?

There was hope, and she flung the rope away. She felt
braver and stronger for having conquered the evil spirit
which urged her to take her own life; and as the sun went
down, and the evening shadows came, she lighted the ean-
die, and placed it in the brcken window, hoping that the
light shining through the crevices would catch the eye of the
lunatic if he passed that way.

What answer should she make to the villain’s proposition
when he stood before her again? She would never marry
him—never! She would not even deceive him and hope to
escape by promising to become his wife. His evil eyes
seemed glaring at her through the darkness, and the recol-
lection of his threats rung in her eays, but her nerves grew
stronger, and her brave heart whispered that she could make
a desperate defense.

It seemed hardly an hour after dark before she heard the
gallop of a horse, the step of a man, and Captain Lisle turned
the key in the door. His face was covered with an evil
scowl, and he attempted no hypocrisy.

‘You have been trying to escape, but you failed,” he said,
pointing to the shattered window.

She made no reply, and he removed his hat and hung
his saber and belt to one of the wooden pegs in the
logs.

‘‘ Now, then,” he commenced, as he turned about, ‘“‘I
want your answer! You have had the day to make up your
mind, and I want plain words!”

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

THE Spy or 1776. 103

‘“‘ You shall have them!” she replied, keepmg her voice
steady with an effort. ‘‘I will never marry you! I loathe
and abhor you more than ever!”

CHAPTER XxXI.
TWENTY MILES ACROSS.

Ir was hardly daylight at the Pass before the sentinels
posted on the rocks reported an advance of the British cav-
alry and a reinforcement of their picket-post. Before ten
o’clock a considerable detachment of cavalry arrived from the
north, and the enemy broke camp and took a position nearer
the base of the mountain, as if determined to reopen active
hostilities at once.

‘“Thou now seest that I was correct in my argument,” said
the Quaker, as the news came in to Captain Tracy. ‘ Thou
art wanted here to encourage the men, while I can be spared
as well as not.”

More cavalry reinforced the enemy soon after noon, and as
the Parson set out on his tramp down the range, the Colon-
ists were busy fortifying, strengthening and making ready for
the threatened attack. The Quaker dared not follow the
base road further than the spot where his humble ‘cabin had
once stood, and where he had entered into his first battle.
He had not visited the place since joining the mountaineers,
and, as he sat down on a rock and gazed at the ashes of his
home, he felt to remark:

“If I should meet a friend wearing the uniform of King
George I hope that the evil spirit would not rise in my heart,
but I fear that it would, and that I should smite hit hard,”

 
   

  

104 MAD DAN,

He had planned to go on his trip without taking weapons,
but Captain Tracy would not consent and had forced him to
accept of a pistol and a knife. He rose up with a sigh, as
if he thought of the desolated homes along the base, and push-
ing up the side of the mountain he gained secure cover to
work his way southward. Once ina while he found an
opening through which he could look down upon the scene
of destruction which the British had wrought, and now and
then he caught sight of a band of cavalry moving across the
country. The road running below him was clear of all travel,
and an hour before sundown he reached the point from which
he was to strike across the country. Looking down upon
what was two weeks before a lovely, productive plain, ke saw
only a few orchards left standing. Houses and barns had
been given to the flames, fences torn down or burned, and
even the crops had been included in the general destruction.
It would be a lonely journey across the plain, but a safe one
he thought, and he sat down to wait for darkness.

Not a living thing except an occasional bird appeared in
sight during the hour of waiting, and finally the Quaker was
ready to move. Descending to the road, he was soon tray-
ersing the fields. If meeting with nothing to detain him he
could reach the house of Lonely Webster by one o’clock, but
he confessed to himself that he had little hopes of discover-
ing any thing after his arrival which would support the old
crone’s suspicions. If he did not, he had promised the cap-
tain that he would work his way down to the burned village
and endeavor to learn all about the Grahams. Stepping off
briskly, and having little fear of meeting danger, the Quaker
passed over mile after mile, sometimes sighing as he passed
the blackened site of a once happy home, and again feeling
as if he were individually called upon to punish the vandals.
He had made half his distance, and was near a small ham

 

 
 

an

THE spy oF 1776. 105

let called Fishville, containing about half a dozen houses,
when, as he was crossing the highway in order to flank the
hamlet on the south side, to evade a bad swamp, he suddenly
heard the sharp click of a musket and a British vidette rose
up from the log on which he had been sitting in the shadow
of the fence.

“Tam glad that I discovered thee before thy fright had
caused the wounding or killing of a good citizen!” said the
Parson, halting in the highway. He was much put out at
his ill-luck, but he would not seem frightened.

‘* What are you doing around here?” inquired the man, in
an ugly voice.

‘* Does war deprive a civilian of his right to the fields or
highways?” asked the Parson.

““T don’t know about that, but I know that you are my
prisoner and that you'll go back to the reserve.”

“Tf thou findest an enemy in every honest citizen who
travels about, thou must have a hard time of it, though no
powder is burned. I thank thee kindly for thy offer to ac-
company me toward the hamlet, but I must decline, as I go
the other way!”

“Td as quick think you a spy as an honest man!” retorted
the irritated.soldier, ‘‘ but whether or no, you'll go back to
the reserve!”

The men were five or six feet apart, and the soldier held
his gun at an order arms, probably thinking his capture noth-
ing important.

‘Perhaps thou wilt undergo a change of mind when thou
readest this paper,” said the Parson, pulling a piece of paper
and advancing with it. He had planned what to do, and as
the soldier reached for the paper he received a tremendous
blow between the eyes which sent him down like a bag 2f
sand. He did not even gruan ashe fell, and the Parson _

 
 

  

MAD D.A,

snatched the musket from the ground, leaped the fence, and
crossed the field at a hard run. He had flanked and was
beyond the village before the soldier recovered sufficiently to
raise an alarm.

““Thou may shout now all thou desire to,” mused the Par-
son as he ran, “‘ but thou wilt be sharp if thou point out the
route which I took. Thy eyes will not be of much service
for a few days to come, and thy experience will teach thee
not to be so lordly in future.”

The hamlet was occupied by a considerable number of
British troops, but the Parson safely passed through, and
soon after midnight he was at the corners, ‘‘ ten miles north ”
of Plainwell. Before leaving the fields he heard a horse
come down the east road and turn toward Plainwell, going
at a gallop, but he was too far off to be seen through the
darkness.

The Quaker listened sharply before climbing the fence,
but he heard no other sounds and leaped down and star-
ted east. He was more cautious now than he had been,
and as he neared the house he became almost afraid, though
why he could not answer. It seemed to him as if he would
make some unpleasant discovery, but he forced himself along
and by and by was close to the hut.

There was no sound from within, no light, ead by creep-
ing around the Parson discovered that the front door was
open. He picked up a stone and threw it in, but there was
no movement, He repeated the precaution, and fimally called
out. Sure that no one was within, he finally advanced,
entered, and struck a light. The candle was on the floor,
and he lit it and looked around.

Mollie Graham’s hat and shawl were on the floor! He
picked them up, and as he turned he came near falling.
{woking down to see what had occasioned his slip, he saw @

 

  

 
 

   

107

 

THE spy oF 1776.

great. pool of blood on the floor, and there was a blood-
stained saber just beyond! ;

““The old crone was right, and Ihave come too late!”
whispered the Parson, his face pale as death and his limbs
trembling at the horrible discovery.

CHAPTER XATtE.
CRAZY DAN’S EXPLOIT.

A DEEPER, more malignant scowl] came to Captain Lisle’s
face as the girl uttered her words in a voice which told him
that she would meet death before she would consent to a
marriage.

‘“Your proud spirit shall be humbled to the dust!” he
hoarsely whispered, as he stood and glared at her. ‘‘Do
you know that your rebel lover is dead—killed in the fight
last night?”

He wanted to torture her, but he failed in his design.
Crazy Dan would surely have discovered the fact, if Captain
Tracy had fallen, and he had said nothing about it.

“‘Tt is false!” she said, in reply.

“Tt is true!’ he repeated; ‘‘and had I thought, I would
have brought his head along to prove it!”

She would not reply, but as he walked up and down the
floor, she stepped behind the table and brought it between
them.

“Tt has been thrown up to me to-day,” he continued,
after a moment; ‘the whole army will soon be ridiculing
me on account of that disgraceful scene the other day,”

  

  
MAD DAN,

“You plotted to bring it about!” she replied; ‘ you knew
I did not love you!”

“And I didn’t care!” he shouted, seizing the table and
hurling it away.

“Touch me if you dare!” she said, as he seemed about to
grasp her.

She was very pale, but she looked him straight in the eyes
and seemed to defy him. He reached out, drew back his
hand, and said, in a whisper:

““The hour of my revenge is here!”

“Tf you lay a finger on me, I will kill you!” she returned,

She had no weapons, but she frightened him for a moment
with the threat.

‘‘ And I’m going to kill you, anyhow!” he hissed, recover-
ing his courage and seizing her wrist. She sought to draw
it away, when he also seized the other. She uttered a pierc-
ing scream as he tightened his grasp, and he was laughing
in a brutal, exultant manner, when there came a sound as of
some one walking on the roof.

The girl screamed again, and with a curse on his lips, he
had let go one of her wrists and raised his hand as if he
would strike her, when a soot-covered object dropped down
the chimney.

‘**Save me, Dan! save me!” she cried, as she recognized
the lunatic.

Ynsane as he was, he seemed to remember all that she had
said that morning, and to realize the situation at a glance.
He carried in his hand a stout club, and she had scarcely
uttered her words, when Le leaped forward and delt the
captain a heavy blow.

“Curses on him!” growled the villain, as he let go of the
girl and retreated across to where his saber was hanging.

A sane man would have followed up the first blow and

Pa

-

   

 
 

|
.
.

  
   

    

THE spy oF 1776.

prevented the officer from securing his weapon, but after
striking him once, the lunatic stood like one desiring an ex-
planation.

“It’s that lunatic fool!” growled the captain, as he drew
his saber and flourished it about. ‘T’ll finish him in a
moment!”

He lunged at Dan, but the boy avoided the thrust, and
erying out like an enraged panther, he dashed at him with
the club. Shouting and striking, they swayed around the
room, and the girl fell down in her fear and terror. It was
wonderful how well the lunatic fought. He pressed the
captain hard, but at length uncovered himself so that the
saber found blood. The wound maddened him, and leap-
ing forward with a scream, he gave the villain a blow on the
head which knocked him senseless.

“ve killed him! I’ve killed him!” shouted the lunatic,
kicking the insensible body with all his might.

The girl had not dared to hope for such a termination of
the affray, and when she saw the captain down, she rose up,
hastily unlocked the door, and sprung out, hardly knowing
what she did.

‘Run! run!” cried Dan, following her, and taking her
hand, he hurried her across the road into a piece of woods.

“We've got to run fast!” he whispered, seeming to be
frightened at what had happened, and she put forth all her
strength, afraid that he would leave her.

They passed out of the woods, across the Plainwell road,
and had made a considerable distance into another strip ot
forest, when the lunatic sunk down as they came to a creek.

“‘Dan’s dying!” he whispered, as she bent over him.

This was her first intimation that he had been wounded,
and she could not credit his words until she had pulled away
his coat and vest and felt the warm blood gushing from
   
     
  
 
 
  
   
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
  

  

 

his side. Her distress was so great that she could do noth-
ing for a time, but as he began to moanand rave, she dipped
water from the creek and washed the wound as best she
could. She would have sought to bind up the hurt, but as
she felt how the blood had soaked into his garments, she
realized that there was no earthly help for him.

‘‘ Poor Dan! poor Dan!” she sobbed, kissing his white
forehead.

‘‘T like Mollie, I do!” he said, putting up a hand and
caressing her soft hair. ‘‘ Dan is going to die, but he killed
the captain, and you can go home!” :

“Tf I could do something!” she wailed, wringing her
hands.

No surgeon could have prolonged his life fifteen minutes.
She raised his head to her Jap, and could only sob over his
white face as she felt his life ebbing away—the life le had
sacrificed for her. He was a simple, unlearned boy, his
mind clouded in darkness, but his heroism and devotion
were all the brighter and greater for that.

Something like a glimpse of reason came to him in his
dying moments.

‘It’s a long way to the village, isn’t it?” he asked, clasp-
ing her hand.

“ Yes—ten miles.”

‘Don’t try to go there! Try and reach the mountain,
and some of Captain Tracy’s men will find you!”

“Daniel, do you know me—do you know what-has hap-
pened?” she asked.

‘Yes, I remember it all, but it seems like a bad dream.
Some one was going to kill you—some one stabbed me—we
ran—we—”

_ He was whispering now, and she bent her ear to catch his

  
Sy

Tit sty on 1776. an

“Tt was a great fire—a great blaze, and—how—it—made
—the—”

She heard a gurgling, gasping noise, and he fell back,
dead! Her tears covered his white face as she called him,
but he had spoken his last word’ on earth.

Poor Dan! Over the valley there are noi beclouded minds
groping in darkness——nothing but rest. and happiness, for
every soul which passes through the golden. gates, the sim-
plest among men may be the brightest among angels.

In after years they marked his grave with a marble slab:
There was but one word—‘‘ Day,”—but. the. stranger who
passes by and asks the quiet, simple: country folk to explain
the brief epitaph, will learn how they reverence one whose
sacrifice could have: been no greater had: he possessed all the
intellect of a statesman,

“Dead! dead! Poor boy!” sobbed Mollie, as, she realized
that life had departed, and she tenderly lifted the head and
lowered it to the sod, She could do, nothing to keep
his life, and she could: perform, no, kind. offices after death.
The body must remain there; how long. she could not
say. She broke off branches and covered the white face
until she could no longer see it, and then her work was
done. It was midnight, dark and lonely, and she knew
not what to do or where to go.

 
  

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE DISGRACED LOYALIST,

Tue charge against him was a malicious lie, and Stephen
Graham felt that his detention would be brief. Had he
known that his daughter contemplated a ride in search of
Tarleton, he would have forbidden it, fearing for her safety
and having no fear for his own. He did not know that
she had gone until the jailer came in at dark and gave him
the information.

‘T am sorry for you, Stephen, very sorry,” said the jailer,
looking through the bars of the cell door.

““Why, you speak as if I were guilty of this offense
charged.”

“All others seem to think so!” continued the jailer. ‘It
is a pretty hard thing when one turns about and shoots down
those who believe him their friend.”

“You are all crazy, or else I have lost my own reason!”
exclaimed the prisoner, roused to anger. ‘‘I defy the whole
British army to prove a single disloyal act against me.”

It was known all through the village that farmer Graham
had been arrested for treason, and men assembled under his
grated window and groaned and hissed to show their con-
tempt. The prisoner suspected a plot or plan on the part
of others, but regarded the affair as a mistake which time
would clearup. The daughter would return in a few hours,
and he did not doubt that she would bring an order from
Tarleton giving him his liberty.

He was fast asleep when the little band of Colonists rode
into town and made such a brilliant fight around his prison,

 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 

| =

  
 

  

THE spy oF 1776.

Looking from the window he saw every thing. His eyes
rested upon Captain Tracy as the fire blazed up, and he
gnashed his teeth in rage that he had not » musket that he
might shoot the rebel down. He had sacrificed and suffered
in the king’s cause, but his loyalty was yet unshaken, and
his enthusiasm unabated

When the flames seized hold of the old building and
spread right and left, and the terror-stricken citizens saw
that the town was doomed, the jail doors were thrown open,
and farmer Graham and the two or three other prisoners
were given their liberty. He forgot that his loyalty had
been questioned and that his neighbors had hissed him, and
he was foremost in the labor of saving property and fighting
the fire.

The flames were dying down when Captain Lisle rode
up. Soldiers had shouted his name and citizens had in-
quired after him, but no one knew where he was to be
found. He rode up at a gallop, coming from the north,
and when he saw the destruction and learned that a num-
ber of his men had been killed or wounded, he acted like a
madman. The conflict was over, the flames had eaten their
fill, and he could do nothing. His eye caught the form of
Stephen Graham as he cursed and raved, and striking the
farmer a heavy blow with the flat of his saber, he shouted:

“Tt is this old traitor who is to blame! He is a spy—a
hypocrite—a villain!”

The cry of ‘traitor!’ was raised by the soldiers, many
of whom had just arrived in the village and knew nothing
of Graham’s arrest, and they set upon him like wild beasts.

“Hang him! hang him!” yelled the soldiers, and Captain
Lisle uttered no word of protest. He had his private rea-
sons for desiring to get the farmer out of the way as soon as

possible.

 

  
   
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

  

The soldiers rushed along the street with their victim, un-
til, in the suburbs, they came to. a proper tree, and a rope
was noosed, and he was swung off without delay or cere-
mony. The deed had hardly been executed when those who
went in pursuit of the mountaineers returned, and the crowd
rushed off to hear their report, leaving no one to guard the
vedy. The limb gave way under the farmer’s struggles,
and he came down, and his hands being free he was enabled
to, remove the noose. Strangling and gasping, he fell down
half-dead, but revived. after a few minutes. and slowly. stag-
gered into a field. Securing a drink from the creek, and
bathing his head, he regained strength enough to go for-
ward; and escape. the enraged soldiers, who. now had returned
to the tree.

A mile away from the village, Stephen Graham sunk down
in a thicket. to curse and weep, by turns—curse himself for
his loyalty and shed bitter tears at the remembrance of the
trials he. had forced upon his daughter. She would come
back to Plainwell, successful or unsuccessful, and finding
him gone, where would she go? His home was destroyed,
his goods in ashes, his money gone, and. this was. the reward
of his, devotion to the king. He was without a shelter, and
he feared for his daughter’s, safety when she returned. Sick
at heart. and wishing. that the rope had accomplished its
work, he arose to. go, but. where should he, go?

If Stephen Graham had plotted against those who loved
liberty—had, rejoiced when, the torch made a desert of the
plain, his sufferings of mind in, that_one hour wiped out the
record against him, To the west of him was his. own deso-
late homestead—beyond that the mountain which the Colon-
ists were-so brayely defending. He had hated and anathe-
matized rebels, but the, only hope he had now was that they
would consent to receive and protect him,
THE SPY OF 1776. 115

All night long he dragged his way forward, once or twice
narrowly escaping capture, hid himself in the woods next,
and when daylight broke again he stood before Captain
Tracy’s advance picket. They took him back to the captain,
and the old man became a child as he related the story ot
his wrongs and his sufferings.

“‘T see through it all now,” said the captain, as he knew
of the girl’s errand, Captain Lisle’s absence, return and dis-
play of brutality, ‘‘and I pray that the Parson may not be
too late.” F

They could do nothing more than had been done. If the
Parson had succeeded as well as he anticipated, he had
reached the cross-roads at midnight. Failing to hear from
the girl there, he would Work his way down to the burned
village and likely intercept her of the road or get word to
her. In any case they would probably hear from him with-
in four or five days, tnléss he Was captured, and there was
hopé that he would bring in the girl with him:

Farmer Graham saw many of his old neiglibors before him
and he went about shaking hands and begging forgiveness for
his past words and deeds. The men had heard of his ill-
treatinent, saw how broken he was in spirit, and they cheer-
fully buried the past and Hoped fora better spirit. They
saw that he was goitig to be ill, and he was sent back into
the motintain where he could have kind wotds and tender
nursiig. The fever came on him even before he teached the
hidden valley, and for days atid days le was worse off in
mind than poor Crazy Dan had ever beeh: Only the kind
care of the women brought him back to reason and to con-

valescence,

 
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
   
   

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE DEAD VOW.

‘‘TsERE hath been foul murder here!” said the Parson,
as he looked around the cabin.

There was every indication of a terrible struggle for life
and the murder of one of the parties—Mollie Graham. There
was no longer any doubt in the Parson’s mind that she had
been trapped and that Captain Lisle had had his revenge, and
the old Quaker trembled so that he had to sit down.

““There is a voice crying out in the wilderness for revenge!”
he said to himself. ‘‘It is not my voice, but if lam brought
face to face with the man who perpetrated this foul crime, I
shall believe that I am the instrument appointed to balance
the scales of Justice!”

Passing out of the cabin, he searched around for the body,
but owing to the darkness the search was not an extended
one. If daylight found him there, he might be discovered
by Tories or soldiers, and he had had sufficient experience to
make him prudent. If he found the body, he could not take
it away, and.after a little thought he deemed it best to get
clear of the place as soon as possible. Bundling up the
shawl and hat as sacred relics which must be preserved at
all hazards, the Quaker left the place and headed for the
west.

Daylight was near at hand, and he must find a hiding-
place until another night would enable him to retrace his
steps to the mountain. The country for a mile west of the
red guide-board was covered with forest more or less, and
THE spy oF 1776. 117

the woods afforded the retreat he sought for. There was no
one moving along the road, and he had heard no one but the
unknown and unseen rider who had galloped by at mid-
night.

Mounting the fence, the Quaker sat there a moment to lis-
ten. Something moved on the ground beneath his feet, and
a aegro suddenly straightened up, and said:

‘Don’t shoot—l’s ready to go right back ’long wid ye!”

The Parson gave such a.start that he nearly fell off the
fence, but recovering his presence of mind after a moment,
he leaped down, and said:

‘“My Ethiopian friend, it is well that thou spokest up as
thou didst. I am now about to ask thee a few plain ques-
tions, and if thou prevaricate so much as the width of a hair,
I may bury thee right here!”

“Oh! Jerusalem! it’s old Preacher Warner!” exclaimed
the negro, skipping about in his joy. He had often seen the
Parson, and he knew him to be a good, kind man, and one
who would not betray him.

‘Thou shouldst not make use of bywords, and thou needst
not designate me as either old or young. Give me thy name
and thy reason for being here.” .

The negro bore the name of Jake, and had fled from his
master, living near Plainwell, to avoid a threatened whipping.
He knew all about the jailing of Stephen Graham and the
burning of the town, and he was quite suré that Mollie had
not returned to the village.

“Thou talkest like an honest man!” said the Parson, after
he had plied him with numerous questions; ‘‘ but what dost
thou propose to do now?”

‘<I ’spects I don’t know,” replied the negro, dubiously.

“Thou knowest that T have not the name of aiding run-
away servants to leave their masters, but perhaps thou hadst

 
   

better go along with me to the mountain and remain with the
Colonists for a time.”

“‘Dat’s what I'll do,” replied Jake, and as they heard a
vehicle moving along the road, they retreated into the woods
to a safer place of concealment. .

Daylight was not far away, and both felt secure enough
to go to sleep. Their slumbers were not disturbed until near
noon, when they heard the baying of hounds and the shouts
of men.

“‘That means thee, Jacob!” said the Parson, sitting up.

“‘Y’se dun gone for!” replied the negro, shaking like a
leaf.

‘“The hounds are undoubtedly on thy track, but they have
not struck it yet. Move with me, and if thou keep up a
stout heart, we may escape them.”

They ran to the west, and coming upon the creek, they
entered it and waded a distance, and then left it and entered
a thicket. The hounds came quite near, but suddenly bore
off to the west, and their deep voices were soon lost to hear-
ing.

“It was not thy track which they scented,” remarked the
Parson, ‘‘ but that of some other unfortunate, who will have
need of a brave heart.”

An hour passed, and as they heard nothing more from the
hounds, the negro crawled out to get a drink. He satisfied
his thirst, and then, raising his head, he caught sight of some-
thing across the creek which made his teeth chatter.

“ Dere’s a man alyin’ in de bushes!’ he whispered to the
Parson, crawling back in great terror.

The Parson took an observation, and something told him
that death had been at work. Crossing the creek, he re-
moved the bushes from the form and a groan escaped him,
“oe Crazy Dan!”

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  

  

THR spy or 1776.

Yes, it was the dead body of the lunatic. The face was
ghastly white, but the Parson identified it at a glance. He
had no need to search for the cause of death; the red blood
had poured out of the horrible wound until it had saturated
the clothing and dyed the green leaves black.

‘“ What monster has done this?” he gasped, as he saw that
murder had been committed. ‘Surely, there must come a
day of retribution in which murderers disguised as soldiers
will be made to pay the penalty of their dastardly crimes!”

“* Dat’s de crazy boy, Dan!” whispered the negro, not dar-
ing to approach the corpse.

‘* Yes, it’s the simple-minded, honest-hearted lad,” replied
the Parson, ‘‘ and some one has met him in the woods and
murdered him, Jacob. I had been conscience-stricken for
leaving my path of peace and religion, and on my knees I
had asked to be forgiven; but here, in the presence of this
dead boy, I say to thee that my anger shall no longer be re-
strained, and that my arm, shall smite and. destroy whenever
it cam reach a red-coat in arms!. Come. here, Jacob, and
kneel with me! We have neither coffin nor shroud, but
Christian. prayer, shall; be said. over this body, and it shall not
be left. above ground, a, prey to the vultures!”

It was, a strange sight to see them kneeling together in
that wild spot, the grand old, trees. whispering: softly in the
wind, and: the creek, hushing: its, babble that the, low, solemn
words of the sorrowing Parson might not, be lost to heaven,
The mocking bird swung; on its branch and. listened to the
whispered. words, forgetting its own voice for the while, and
the great vultures soaring aloft sailed heavily away as they
looked down and saw that they had been robbed of their
prey.

‘““We must find some way to bury him,
as they rose up; and they began searching.

»

said the Parson
Not far away

 

 

   
  

   

an overturning tree had thrown up a bank of gravel, and the
body was tenderly carried to the place. Broad green leaves
were plucked for a shroud, and young branches were broken
off again to shield the white face from the earth.

When all was ready, enough of the bank was broken off
to cover the body, and the men, blinded by the mist before
their eyes, crept back to the thicket without a word.

The trees roared loudly as the south wind rushed through
their branches, and the brook gurgled and sung again to rouse
the mocking-bird from his reverie in the whispering pine.

CHAPTER XXYV.
THE BLOODHOUNDS

Caprain Liste meant to kill Crazy Dan as the two fought
back and forth across the cabin, and had no fear that the boy
could harm him. The blow of the bludgeon was a hard
one, and it was a good half-hour after he fell before he re-
covered consciousness. It was his blood which oozed out
and made the horrid stain that so frightened the Parson.

Struggling up as he came back to life, he leaned against
the wall until he could remember what had occurred. The
door was open, both his victims gone, and he cursed and
raved like a manic. He could not pursue; his head whirled
so that he doubted if he could mount his horse. Leaving his
bloody saber on the floor and the cabin as it was, he crawled
out, gained the side of his horse, and finally reached the sad-
dle. The night air revived him after a time so that he was
stronger and could distinctly remember what had occurred.
The girl had escaped, but it was only temporarily. Her fa-

 
 

  

THE sP¥ or 1776.

ther had been driven out of Plainwell, and if she dared to re-
turn it would be an easy matter for him to incite the citizens
against her. She might seek to gain the mountain and the
protection of her lover; he feared this, and he made haste to
reach Plainwell. Arriving there he at once dispatched a
courier to the commander of the forces besieging the Pass,
to tell him that scouts and spies from the mountain were
abroad, and asking him to intercept them.

Captain Lisle was too severely injured to lead in carrying
out his devilish programme, and he called in his orderly once
more.

“The girl and Crazy Dan will probably make for the
mountain,” he said, ‘‘but they can not travel far to-night.
Get bloodhounds, and I'll send half a dozen men with you,
and at daylight you must put the dogs on their trail!”

The fiendish idea just suited the orderly, and he hastened
to find the dogs. Fortunately for at least one of the fugi-
tives, the orderly met with so many delays that it was nearly
noon before the gang of soldiers and dogs arrived at the cabin
and took up the trail. The dogs started off with a howl,
and only missed the trail when they came within a few rods
of Dan’s dead body. The flight of the fugitives over a piece
of wet ground baffled the keen-scented animals, and they took
another direction.

When the girl rose up from beside the dead body she had
no mind of her own, but, compelled to realize her situation
in all its bearings, she was forced to choose between return-
ing to the village or encountering the perils of a journey to-
ward the mountain and an attempt to reach the Pass. She
finally chose the latter course, and as the night-wind sighed
through the gloomy forest she became nervous and afraid,
and moved away from the presence of death. Fear took
hold of her as she walked, and she hurried along with a

 

  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
 

  

beating heart until she sunk down exhausted. Her steps had
passed over low ground and morass, Providence leading her,
though she dreamed it not. Daylight found her shivering
and trembling, and reassured her. The bright sun brought
out the birds and drove away the dark shadows which had
lingered behindt he trees, like evil spirits ready to seize her,
and she was calmer and more collected.

Resuming her walk, she presently came to the western
limit of the forest and saw the green side of the Alleghanies
looming up in the distance. Between forest and mountain
was a level plain, cut up with farms and orchards and groves.
As much as the darkness frightened her, she knew that she
must not attempt to cross the plain by daylight; but must
remain in the forest until she could have the cover of dark-
ness.

So great had been her distress and anxiety that she had
scarcely reflected on her manner of escaping the clutches of
Captain Lisle. Now, as she thought of it, she wondered if
the blow from Dan’s bludgeon had been fatal. It might
have only stunned the victim, in which case he would seek to
recapture her. Whether he was dead or alive she thought
she had reason to fear him or his men, and prudence sug-
gested that she find a hiding-place. It was a strange retreat
she selected—one which a man would have passed by as
dangerous. .Standing near the forest was a small frame house
untenanted. The British had overlooked it in their incendiary
raids, or else had ascertained it to be the property of a Tory.

The girl watched until quite certain that the house was not
inhabited, and she moved nearer and found her surmises
correct.. The doors were open, as if the place was not often
visited, and walls and windows exhibited proofs of neglect.
She was safe for the day, she thought, and hungry and weary
she sat down on a bench, leaned against the wall, and slept

  
Se

THE spy or 1776. . 128

until the fierce baying of the bloodhounds sroused her.
Glancing from the window she saw them circling around in
the meadow below, but they failed to find her trail, much to
her wonder. She was watching to see them all move away,
when one of the soldiers pointed toward the house, and two
of his companions came toward it at a gallop.

The pantry door stood open, and the frightened girl dash-
ed in and shut it after her, praying that Providence might
in some way avert the danger which threatened. hud!
thud! thud! came the sound of the horses’ gallop, and in a
moment they drew up at the door.

“Confound the dogs! they couldn’t track a sheep!”

She recognized the orderly’s voice as he stood on the step,
and next instant he kicked the outside door open with a
crash.

‘‘They’d be a fool to hide in here!” he said, as he look-
ed around and stepped in. ‘‘ Even the cursed lunatic
would have more sense than to hide in a house in plain sight
of everybody!”

“ Seems like I see tracks here in this dust!” replied ‘his

companion.

“ Guess not!” said the orderly, opening the bedroom door
with a kick. ‘If they were here you’d see something more
than tracks!”

The girl held her hand on the latch and trembled so that
she felt as if she must fall down. If they tried the door
she was lost. :

‘‘1t’s my opinion that they are hiding in the woods!”
continued the orderly, tearing off a strip of the fluttering
wall-paper. ““T£ we commence at the south end and beat
right down through we'd be certain to discover them if they
are hiding.”

“The dogs yell as if they had a new scent!” replied the

 
  
 
  
 
 
    
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

124 MAD DAN,

other, and they walked out, scarcely clearing the step be-
fore the fugitive for whom they hunted sunk down with
such a black shadow before her eyes that it seemed midnight
to her again. When she revived the baying of the hounds
was no longer to be heard, and the birds were singing in
the orchard below as if the fierce hate of man had not pur-
sued the innocent almost to destruction. Long hours passed
before she dared open the door, and then it was with fear
and trembling. She had been anxious to see the morn break
—she felt thankful to Heaven when the sun at last went
down and the weird evening shadows crept in at the broken
panes and danced over the floor.

CHAPTER. SY I.
THE BLOW FOR LIBERTY!

CapTain Tracy did not expect to hear from the Parson
under two or three days, no matter what his discoveries.
He had full faith that the man would do all that any one
could do, and was determined to be patient, when a great
change came for him. The British left their camp at night
and moved back clear to Graham’s farm, and at daylight not
one of them was in sight.

The mountaineers were astonished and could not solve
the mystery until a courier arrived from General Sumter,
whe was mustering his men to attack the British General
Ferguson, forty or fifty miles to the north. Cornwallis had
passed on through the State and reached Virginia, and was
Waiting rciuforeements by way of the Chesapeake. The
captain was ordered to report to General Sumter with half
tHE sPy or 1776. 125

his force, leaving the others to guard the Pass alone. Some-
thing of a similar order reached the British colonel several
hours sooner. Tarleton was preparing to harass General
Gates and wanted all his force further to the north, where
a great battle would sooner or later occur. Only enough
men were to be left to hold Plainwell and keep the main
line of communication open, and the siege of the Pass was
raised and the mountaineers were free 10 come out.

Captain Lisle was not left behind as he hoped for. Hints
of his “‘irregular conduct ” had reached his superiors, and
the force holding the village was changed for entirely new
men.

Distressed and anxious for the safety of her whom he
loved, Captain Tracy felt rebellious for a moment after read-
ing his order. Then the patriotism of the hero rose above
the man, and he crushed back his own hopes and fears and
was ready to obey. It mattered not to the Colonist if his
home was in ashes, his wife and children destitute, his hopes
faint and his fears many; the bugle-call found him marching
forward again to the rescue of Liberty.

“Marching orders!” shouted the mountaineers, and all
but the twoscore detailed to hold the Pass were ready in
half an hour to move to the north along the mountain road
to join Sumter. The captain could not go away without
making some provision in aid of the Parson, should aid be
needed. Ten of the men who were to remain behind were
ordered to move down the mountain to the point from
whence the Parson had started east. Perched on the rocks
they could sweep the plain below for miles, and if the scout
came back by that route and was pursued, they could ren-
der him assistance or avenge him. This programme laid
out, Captain Tracy mounted and the cavalcade moved out,
some to return with new scars and greener laurels, others

 
 

 

126 MAD DAN,

to fall in defense of the cause which none but the brave
espoused.

The British had withdrawn from the mountain at every
point, and as Captain Tracy’s band rode along they were
joined here and there by a single hunter or small bands of
borderers, all hastening to gather around Sumter and help
him to administer a blow to the enemy which should have
a grand effect in hastening the elose of the war. The
British had gathered around King’s Mountain in considerable
force, to recruit their ranks from the Tory population and
to disperse or exterminate the small bands of patriot cavalry
which rendezvoused in that neighborhood. General Sumter

- had formed the bold plan of attacking the enemy on his own
ground, and he was gathering his material.

All day long the mountaineers rode hard, and soon after
dark they reached their destination. It was a motley col-
lection—old men, boys, cripples, some well armed and some
armed with scythe-blades and corn cutters. The enemy
was strong in numbers and finely posted and equipped, but
he was to find ‘‘ the rebel rag-bag” more than a match for
him. Before morning all the reinforcements which could
be expected had arrived, and the General summoned his
officers and held a council of war. He would lead the cen-
ter in person, the right was given to Colonel Strong, and
Captain Tracy was placed in command of three hundred
mountain-men and given the left.

‘the commander of the British had received warning of the
gathering of the Colonists, but he treated it with contempt, ex-
cept that his forces were moved further up the sides of the
mountuin-where natural defenses afforded them every advan-
tage over a foecharging up. In this position they waited for
what they feared would not come—a battle. Two hours after

dawn on the morning after Captain Tracy joined the Gen-

   

  
THE spy or 1776. 127

eral, the Colonists were attacking the mountain at three
separate points. The right pushed its way up over the
rocks and through the dwarf pines until the powder of the
British almost burned their faces, and then the line wavered
and melted and at last retreated.

The wild cheers of the victorious British incited the center
of the attacking force to greater deeds of heroism, but they
too met a fire which no soldiers could stand, and the line
was thrown back and doubled up in dire confusion.

The left wing had not fired a shot yet. The men had
been creeping up and up, seeming not to heed the shower of
bullets sent down among them, and at length they cleared
the rocks and had the open side of the mountain before them.
Then with a yell and a cheer they swept forward, struck the
British line, forced it back, pierced it, and the day was won!
Taken in front and rear, a large number of the enemy sur-
rendered, and the balance fled in detachments, while more
than three hundred lay dead among the rocks and under the
trees.

The importance of the victory could hardly be realized by
the Colonists. Cornwallis had reached the Virginia border,
and he at once, on the reception of the news, began a retro-
grade movement. Reinforcements destined for his army
were halted and turned another way, and the plans of the
British commander were so changed and baffled that York-
town and the surrender of his whole army were the ultimate
results.

While the victors exulted they yet bore testimony to the
vravery of their opponents, and Americans have more than
once deplored the stain which was that day cast upon this
page of American history. A few weeks before, when at
Camden, Corr wallis had executed ten American soldiers, who —
he claimed were bushwhackers and guerrillas. Nothing is

 
   

128 MAD DAN,

more dreadful in war than retaliation, which is simply the
murder of innocent men in revenge for the offense of a Gen-
eral. Sumter had a heart which must have felt this fact
with all its force, but his men shouted for retaliation, and he
was urged on until his mind was made up to execute man
for man.

The captured prisoners were collected in the field below
where the center had charged, and the announcement was
made that ten of them were to be chosen for execution.
Brave men they were, but their faces turned pale at the news.
They settled it among themselves. A count was made, and
a white bean was dropped in for every man. ‘then ten were
removed from the hat and ten black beans substituted. An
American sergeant passed among them with the hat, holding
it to each one, and the ten doomed men were removed from
the rest. It was a wicked thing to do, no matter what the
excuse, and it is a dark blot on the name and fame of some
of the best and bravest patriots of the war for liberty. The
men faced death with iron nerve and steady eye, and when
they were dead no one felt that it was a soldierly deed.

CHAPTER XXVII.
A JOYFUL DISCOVERY.

Parson WaRNER did not conclude from the discovery of
the dead body of Crazy Dan that the lunatic had known any
thing of the affair at the cabin of Lonely Webster. He
thought the boy had wandered into the forest and that some
one had murdered him in revenge for his murder of the
soldier. .

   

 
ak

 

THE spy oF 1776. 129

It was sad news which he would carry back to Captain
Tracy. He had no doubt, from his midnight observations at
the cabin, that the girl had been foully murdered and her
body hidden in the swamp or brush. He felt a strong desire
to return to the cabin and make a closer inspection, and
about the middie of the afternoon, every thing having been

quiet for some hours, he broached the subject to Jake and

~ requested him to remain quiet while a scout was made up

the road.
‘“*Pools of blod upon the floor—

A white face in the swamp !”’

A wild voice half sung and half-screamed the words within
ten feet of them, and, as the frightened men leaped .up and
looked around, Aunt Nancy rose up from her hiding-place
and came forward, cackling and chuckling, as if highly de-
lighted at having startled them.

2. ‘*T know where the corpse was hidden,” she croaked, her
haggish face covered with a smile. ‘‘ It’s in the ooze of the
swamp, and it’s sinking, sinking down, down in the black
mire!” :

“ Aunt Nancy, I recognize thee, but thou gavest me a bad
fright at first!” said the Parson, beckoning her to advance.
‘* What object brought thee here?”

She had passed over fifty miles of ground since Captain
Tracy ind his men encountered her, and the Quaker’s sur-
prise was great.

5 ‘‘T scented the blood!” she almost screamed, ‘‘ the red
blood which gurgled out and ran over the floor! It was a
foul murder—a black deed!”

Then advancing closer and placing a hand on the Parson’s
shoulder and thrusting her long nose under his broad-brimmed
hat, she sunk her voice to a whisper and continued:

“We willhunthimdown! Come with meand we will raise

 
  

 

180 MAD DAN,

the corpse, and tie the white hands together and smooth
down the golden hair, and hold the funeral!”

“Thy tongue speaketh strange words!” replied the Parson,
trying hard to becalm. ‘If there was a murder, tell me
where, and tell me who was the victim.”

“You ‘are a devil! devil! devii!” she shrieked, tossing her
arms, and her face growing more hideous. ‘‘] know all
about it—the queen murdered, and—you—are—the—mur-
derer!”

There was something so wolfish in her look, and something
so tragic in her voice and action, that the Parson started
pack in alarm and came near using strange words.

‘Lord save me!” he said, “‘ but the old witch has gone
raving mad!”

The negro, Jake, was shivering like one with the ague, fear
ing that the hag might attack them, but, as soon as the Parson
recovered his composure, he determined to drive her away.

“Begone from this, old woman!” he commanded, breaking
off a limb, as if he meant to strike her. ‘‘ There are men
hunting through these woods who would set their dogs upon
thee!”

She looked at him a moment as if she would tear him
with her nails, and then, waving her arms around her head,
she replied:

“Look out when the darkness covers the face of the
earth! They are hunting and they will find you, and when
the sun comes up your body will wave and swing and rock
from the limb of a tree! They’ll hang the Parson, so they
will, and his big eyes will stand wide open and look—”

He made a movement and she ran away, cackling and
laughing, as if greatly pleased. They heard her chanting
wild songs as she threaded her way through the forest, but

‘at last she was out of hearing and they felt easier,

 

  

 
   

 

     

THE spy oF 1776. 181

The negro was long in recovering his assurance, being
ignorant and superstitious, but the Parson thought little
more of the circumstance, being convinced that she knew
nothing of the deed at the cabin,

Darkness was long in coming. The soldiers seemed cer-
tain that somebody was hiding in the woods, and they did not
give up the search until an hour before sundown.

Twice the fierce hounds passed so near that, their lithe
forms were seen througb the brush, but they did not pick up
the scent. They had been out of hearing for an hour when
darkness came, and the Parson judged that it was safe to move

‘‘ Jacob, arm thyself with this knife,” he said, as they were
ready to go, ‘‘and perhaps thou hadst better pick up a stout
club, as I shall do.”

‘‘Tsn’t dey done hunting us?” inquired Jake, with a tremor
in his voice.

“T can not answer thy question, Jacob. Human nature
is as variable as the wind, and, though I trust that we may
reach the mountain without delay, we may encounter the en-
emy within an hour. Argument and persuasion will be my
first weapons, but those failing, we shall have need of vigor-
ous thwacks and blows,”

Picking their way to the western edge of the forest, they
found the plain so quiet that they continued moving, passing
within a few rods of the house which had sheltered the girl-
fugitive all day. Not another farm-house had been left stand-
ing between the forest and the hamlet, and the men walked
forward at a brisk pace.

About two miles from the wood, as they hurried across a
meadow, the negro’s keen eyes detected some one moving in
advance. Whispering to the Parson, they found that the
stranger was hurrying forward as fast as possible, and Jake
declared that it'was some runaway negro.
133 MAD DAN,

| “Tf thou art correct in thy surmises, so much the better,”
} replied the Parson; ‘‘ we will let him join us and take him
through to the Pass.”

| Increasing their pace to a run, they soon came so close to
the stranger that the Parson dared to call out that he was a
friend. The fugitive stopped short, turned about, and next
moment Mollie Graham was sobbing in the Parson’s arms.
It was a moment before he recognized her, and several min-
utes before he could utter a word. He had in imagination
| seen her murdered and her body hidden, and it required time
to shake off the impression.

‘“Thank God forever and ever!” he finally sobbed, as he
held her hands and looked into her face to make sure again.
i | He could not go on until receiving some explanations, and
_ she made them, as detailed to the reader. The mystery at the

cabin and that which had enshrouded the death of Crazy

Dan was swept away by the statements, and .he Parson then

knew that it was Captain Lisle whom he had heard galloping

up the Plainwell road the night before. It was he who had
: organized the hunt with the bloodhounds, and the Parson felt
anxious for their future progress, knowing what an incentive
the villain had to push the search.

In half an hour they were ready to move forward again,
and as the hour was early, it was hoped that they might
reach the mountain before daybreak. The negro took the
advance to pilot the way, and to watch for danger, and the
two followed, listening and watching for any sound which
might indicate the presence of an enemy.

 

 

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THR spy oF 1776. 38

CHAPTER XXVIII.
ACROSS THE PLAIN.

So much excitement and distress of mind, added to ex-
posure, had weakened the girl-fugitive more than she had
thought for, and the trio had not been traveling an hour
when she was obliged to halt and rest.

Nothing had been heard of the soldiers or the hounds since
dark, and the Parson had hopes of making a safe journey to
the mountain. Even if the girl had to rest often, and pro-
ceed at a slow pace, they ought to reach the range by day-
break, and once there, they would be safe from pursuit. The
greatest anxiety was to pass the half-way hamlet without be-
ing discovered.

Before ten o’clock Mollie’s feet were blistered so that her
gait was a hobble, and the Parson and Jake clasped hands
and made a ‘“‘ seat” and carried her a good part of the next
hour. Coming near the hamlet, and hearing the neighing of
cavalry-horses, the Parson went ahead to see if the road could
be crossed without danger. The greater part of the soldiers
had left for the north that day, but there was a provost-
guard in the town, and the Quaker came near being shot be-
fore he had really commenced his observations. He climbed
upon the roadside fence to listen, and the next instant was
challenged by a sentinel, who was pacing up and down. No
answer was returned to his ‘‘ who goes there?” and a bullet
whistled close to the Parson’s ear.

“Thou art a most uncivil dog!” he soliloquized as he
leaped off the fence and ran back to his party. The dis-
charge of the one musket was followed by the reports of

 
   

eh MAD DAY,

others; and in two minutes the whole guard was under
arms.

“This way—to the north side!” whispered the Parson, as
he grasped the girl’s hand. ‘‘Let me warn thee not to cry
out in case they come close, for I do believe that we shall be
aided by Providence to escape them altogether!”

Mollie forgot her sore feet for a few minutes, and the three ~

ran to the north a quarter of a mile, and then crossed the
road. Crossing a field, and hearing the soldiers running and
calling, they came upon a camp which the Parson had en-
countered the night before. He groaned out in despair as
he saw the situation, but it proved their salvation. it was
hardly two minutes before several soldiers ran past within a
few feet of them, and capture would have been certain had
they continued in the field.

It was an hour before the red-coats gave up the search, and
the town became quiet. Then the fugitives crept cautiously
along the edge of the swamp to its northern limit, and turned
to the west. Two or three times during the next hour they
heard men galloping along the roads, and distant shouts, but
their progress was not interrupted. They had given no heed
to the hours, and as they rested in an orchard, they found
the darkness being swept away by approaching dawn; and
in a short time they were entirely deprived of their friendly
ally.

‘<1 trust that we are near the mountain,” said the Parson,
as he rose up to view their situation, but to his disappoint-
ment Ife found that they were'at least five miles from the
hase. He was, however, somewhat consoled by the fact that
his closest observations failed to detect any one moving in
any direction, and there was hope that they might gain the
range without peril or annoyance.

Hope and excitement gave the girl new strength, and she

     
   

 

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‘

THE spy oF 1776. 185

held out bravely for a mile, ‘but then her blistered feet gave
out, and the men carried her as during the night. Taking

advantage of trees, hills, and whatever would conceal them, —

they drew nearer the mountain, and at length were scarcely
a mile away. They-had just crossed an open field, where
there was neither fence nor tree for a mile, and were resting
for a moment, when the negro shouted:

‘“* Dere dey come—dem sojers!”

“Thou speaketh truly, Jacob!” replied the Parson, as he
wheeled and caught sight of seven or eight cavalry men in
full sight on their trail. ‘‘ If thou hast backbone, the pres-
ent hour calls upon thee to display it!”

They had thrown away their clubs, and now broke off
limbs from an uprooted shade-tree at hand. The negro bad
the knife, and the Parson drew out and inspected his pistols.

‘Thou must get into the bushes there, and shut thy eyes!”

said the Parson to the girl, forcing her along. ‘‘ When the
fight is over, we will resume our journey in peace!”

Capture or death would have been certain had the cavalry
reached them, but aid was at hand. The men sent down
the mountain from Eayle Pass, by Captain Tracy, had faith-
fully obeyed his instructions. , From their perch on the rocks
they hud caught sight of the fugitives toiling along, and had
also discovered the small band of British soldiers in pur-

‘suit. Rushing to their horses, the borderers mounted and

started down the hills.

As the fugitives waited the coming’ of their pursuers, the
gallop of horses’ feet came from the west, and the moun-
taineers rode over the ridge and swept past them with a
cheer, straight for the red-coats.

* Throw away thy club, Jacob—we shall break no heads
in this battle!” said the Parson, leaping upon the fallen tree,
to get a clear view of the fight. .

 
 

  

136 MAD DAN,

The berderers numbered ten—the British eight, but the
satter were brave fellows, and did not count the odds. - The
two parties met, sabers drawn, and tbe clash of steel, and
the hoarse shouts and cries made the two spectators tremble
with excitement. The fight lasted but a few moments, and
when the cloud of smoke and dust flew away, there were
three cr four dead men on the ground, and the British were
prisoners. The leader of the Colonists rode up to the Par-
son to congratulate the fugitives, and receive congratula-
tions; and the horses of the dead men were caught and turned
over to them.

Captain Lisle was not among the fallen or captured, but
‘his orderly, the villain who had executed his plans, was one
ot the prisoners. The borderers were for hanging him at
once when they learned this fact, but the girl interposed

_ to save his life, and the Parson declared that he was tired of
- bloodshed.

The prisoners were securely tied to their horses, and the
party were soon under cover of the mountain. As the ob-
ject of the mountaineers in coming down the mountain had
been accomplished, they rode for the Pass at once, which
was reached at noon without accident.

Mollie, from the plans that had been laid to encompass
her destruction, had reason to fear that her father had
not escaped harm at the hands of Captain Lisle. Her joy
was therefore great at ascertaining that he was in the
mountains. While the soldiers halted at the Pass with
their prisoners, the three rescued fugitives passed on to the

valley to rest and recruit.

  

 

 
THE spy oF 1776. 187

CHAPTER XXIX.
VAN-GUARD AND REAR-GUARD.

Tu result at ‘King’s Mountain was a stunning blow to
Cornwallis, Thinking that the effect would cause revolt
throughout the Carolinas, he at once began falling ‘back

_ from the Virginia border with his army, pushing the Col-

onists before him. Burdened with prisoners and captured
war-material, Sumter ‘made no move from the battle-ground
until forced to. His own loss had been severe, and he felt
that a battle with the enemy’s van-guard might rob him of
the fruits of his victory, and therefore pushed south with all
possible dispatch. ‘The mountaineers could be depended
on, and half a thousand of them were detailed to cover the
retreat of the army. The army had scarcely:commenced to
move before Tarleton appeared to harass it, and the borderers
turned and fought at every mile of the way.

There had been no news from the Pass since Captain
Tracy left. While he had reason to believe that Captain
Lisle was with Tarleton’s forces, he had no knowledge that
such was the case, and he scarcely dared hope that the Par-
son had found the object of his search alive and well, and
had returned with her to the mountain. War respects no
one’s hopes, fears, doubts or sorrows, and the captain’s ms
sion gave him only a moment now and then to reflect upon
his personal troubles.

The army was falling back toward the border of the Caro-
linas, hoping to effect a junction with Gates, or to be rein-
forced by Marion, the Swamp Fox.’ :

Cornwallis could not move his troops fast enough to

 
  

,

MAD DAN,

make’a pursuit, but sent all his cavalry forward to Tarleton,
and the retreat was a series of sharp fights hetween the
horsemen. A stand was made once or twice, in hopes that
the British leader could be drawn into an attack, but he
was too wily to put his cavalry against infantry, and hung
upon the rear and flanks of the army to harass it, hoping by
some fortunate chance to rescue a portion of the prisoners
and captured property. ‘

On the afternoon of the third day, safe from any fear of
Cornwallis, the entire cavalry force of the Colonists was de-
tailed to strike the pursuer a blow. Suspecting the plot,
he halted his main force, and detailed a few companies of
cavalry to keep up the semblance of pursuit. Just at even-
ing Captain Tracy and his mountaineers, halting to destroy a
bridge, were suddenly charged upon by a small party, and
though the British were quickly beaten back, the captain and
several men were taken prisoners.

‘“‘§till engaged in the burning business, I see,” said a
voice, at his side, as the attacking party retreated, and
through the gathering twilight he caught sight of the face of
Captain Lisle. He was glad to find nim there; it was better
than to think that he was still on duty at Plainwell, where
he could plot and plan against the Grahams and those de-
fending the Pass. As he made no reply, the captain con
tinued:

‘Guerrillas are not treated as prisoners of war, but they
will do as victims of retaliation!”

There was no answer to this, and in a few minutes the
party joined the reserves, who were preparing to encamp for
the night. The captured men, numbering six, were turned
over to the major in command, as guerrillas and bush-
whackers, -
The action of Sumter in executing the ten men at King’s

   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
   

   

HE spy or 1776.

Mountain had thoroughly enraged the British, and as the
major received the prisoners, he said:

‘Good! They shall swing from the same tree before to-
morrow is two hours old!”

There was no distinction made between the prisoners, but
all were crowded into a tent in the center of the encamp-
ment, and a strong guard placed around. ‘Tarleton rode up
soon after dark, and his satisfaction was great when he
learned that six of the detested borderers were in his power.
Captain Tracy was ordered before him, and feeling that per-
haps some warning was due an enemy in arms who was to
be ignominiously executed, the British leader said:

‘Captain, you and your five men will be hung at sunrise
to-morrow morning!”

‘‘ We shall be ready!” answered the captain.

‘“See that the ropes are stout,” cautioned the colonel,
turning to Captain Lisle; ‘‘ you are detailed to attend to
this agreeable business.”

 

**A ghostly corpse, with clasey eyes,
Was walking up and down!”

The camp-fire around which some of the officers sat was
some distance from the others, near the edge of a swamp,
and every one startcd at the sound of the voice. A moment
later old Aunt Nancy came out of the swamp and stood be
f re them, her garments in tatters, and her face more hag-
gish than ever.

*So-ho! So-ho!” she cried, as she walked up to the fire
and rubbed her hands over the blaze. ‘‘ Who is it that is
going to hang at sunrise?”

“Go away, old woman, or I'll spit and roast you ona
bayonet!” replied Tarleton.

‘“‘ Hear! hear!” she cried, tossing her arms wildly and
kicking the fire about.
  

MAD DAN,

Some of the officers. cursed, others laughed, and the hag
might have moved away. had she not caught sight of Captain
‘Tracy, who stovd in the light, of the fire.

‘Hang you?” she said, going closeup to him and peering
into his face; ‘‘ they are thieves, villains, murderers, and I’ll
put a spell on them!”

‘* Leave, I tell you, old hag!” shouted Tarleton, throwing
a. stick, at her.

He did not, perhaps, mean to hit her, but the missile
struck, her in. the face and. drew blood, She did not even
put. up her hand.or ery out,. The blood trickled down over
her wrinkled, cheek, contrasting strangely with her glisten-
ing eyes and. white locks, and, all watehed.her as. she stood
there. Pointing her shriveled bare arm and skeleton fingers
at the group, she croaked:

“‘ There will.be no hanging in.the morning! There will
be great, pools of blood on the grass, pale faces looking
up to the morning sun, and your ears will be full of the
groans of the wounded and. the laments of the dying!”

Her voice was hardly above a whisper, but every word
reached the group, and they listened and watched closely as
she continued:

‘Touch me if you dare! I can kill you all where you
sit!”

She looked from one face to another, as if defying them,
and then moved off in the darkness, muttering to herself.
Returning after a moment, she walked up to Captain Tracy
and said:

“ Be ready at midnight! A horse of fire will come to
bear you away, and those who try to stop him will fall down
and bleed!”

She was gone for good this time, and after a moment the
officers began laughing at each other and spoke of her as

   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

 
opel

THE Spy oF 1776. 144

some lunatic who had escaped from friends in the neighbor-
hood. , Tarleton rose up to leave, and as he mounted he
ealled back:

“We move toward the Tyger in the morning; hang your
prisoners early!’

CHAPTER XXX.
THE SWAMP FOX.

GENERAL Marron and his little band were operating on
the flanks of Cornwallis’ army when King’s Mountain was
fought and won by the Colonists. At the first news of the
battle he headed for the south, keeping on the eastern flank _
of the pursuing cavalry, and by hard riding and a thorough
knowledge of the country he had almost overtaken the rear-
guard of Sumter’s army when darkness found his command
entangled in a swamp on the evening of Captain Tracy’s cap-
ture.

A deep, sluggish stream, with miry banks, traversed the
swamp and was unfordable. In seeking a road out of the
place the men discovered that Tarleton’s advance blocked
all escape, and the band, numbering nearly two hundred
men, therefore prepared to pass the night in the swamp,
hoping that the enemy would move in the morning and let
them out of the trap. From the genter of the swamp,
where the men were collected in a body, scouts penetrated
to the outskirts, and were watching when Captain Tracy and
his men were brought in prisoners,

Reporting the discovery to their leader, he determined on
a night attack anda rescue. The cavalry around the swamp
were not superior in numbers, and the main force was too

oe

 
 

  

MAD DAN,

far in the rear to participate in the fight if it was vigorously
pushed, If it proved successful, the ‘‘ Foxes” would be
freed from their dangerous situation, the prisoners rescued,
and a good blow struck for the cause, all at once.

As Captain Tracy was returned to the tent the men waited
for him to announce the verdict, and when he told them that
they were to be executed at daybreak none of them had a re-
ply. It was a retaliation, and only three or four days before
they had witnessed the nerve with which half a score of
Britons walked out to be shot. No matter how the heart
felt at the thought of the widows and the fatherless, the face
should exhibit no cowardice when the hour of death drew
near.

The camp settled down for the night, sentinels and pickets
were posted, and by and by the stillness of midnight was
broken by nothing save the stamp of a horse or the cry of an
owl from the swamp

Some of the condemned men fell asleep even while pon-
dering over their fate, and those who could not sleep made
no movement to betray themselves.

Seated at the door of the tent, looking at the black dark-
ness which marked the line of the swamp, Captain Tracy’s
thoughts were miles away, when he suddenly caught sight of
a moving shadow between him and the path of the sentinel.
It came toward him, hugging the ground like a snake, but
he scarcely roused from his reverie. It was only a dog—
perhaps only the reflection of one of the camp-fires. Nearer
came the shadow, and then it sent a warning:

18.8-sh!””

The Captain was roused now, and as the shadow reached
his feet and he made out the fur cap of one of the Swamp
Foxes, he held out his hand for a grasp.
‘How many of you?” whispered the shadow.

 

  
Hire spy or 1776 1438

& Six!”

“ Any wounded?’

EN

“‘Marion is at the edge of the swamp with two hundred
men! He is going to attack the camp! Keep close to the
ground, for the bullets will be thick as rain drops!”

The captain pressed his hand to show that he understood,
and the shadow glided off. Would the sentinel detect him?
No, he moved without sound, and he blended with the dark-
ness so that the eye thought him a part of midnight. When
he was gone the captain reached over and touched the man
next to him and whispered his information. In two minutes,
every man in the tent knew what was to happen, and they
were hugging the grass to avoid the fire of their friends.

Ten minutes passed and then came the signal. A night-
bird, seeming only a few rods away, uttered a cry, which
was repeated to the right and the left. Then came a crash
of carbines, a blaze of fire, and the Swamp Foxes were in
the camp!

It was not a battle; the surprise was too complete for that..
Danger had been looked for in another direction, and an en-
emy sweeping through the camp before an alarm from the
pickets had not been dreamed of.

Leaping up from their sleep, the British troopers fled in:
consternation, scarcely firing a shot, and in three minutes the
Swamp Foxes had full possession of the camp and were as--
sured of the highway over which Sumter had retreated.
Men who had been left in the swamp for the purpose brought:
out their horses, others secured the animals abandoned by the
British, and the alarm had scarcely reached and roused:
Tarleton, a mile away, when Marion was speeding down the:
road, the rescued mountaineers among his men.

When morning looked down upon the camp, men thought.

 
  

 

144 MAD. DAN,

of the old hag’s prophecy. More than a score of pale, white
faces were turned to the light, and the crisp, dry grass: was
stained a new color. There was no hanging of captured
prisoners that morning, but.there was cursing loud.and.deep
as.the,sods were turned back, and the dead laid away.

He whose curses: were the loudest was.Captain Lisle: He
had. gloated over, the. thought, of adjusting the-rope around
the, neckof his.rival. He;had;thought. that. when the, noose
was ready he.would. whisper something. in; his victim’s ear
which would ;rack, his heart and make him forget .his awful
situation

CHAPTER XXXII.
BACK. TO THE PASS—A NEW CALL.

Days.had lengthened into weeks before Captain Tracy and
his band rode into Eagle Pass again. Sumter was safe, Gates
collecting a,new,army, Greene.active, and the Star of Liberty
shone. brighter,than forlong years before, The British were
creeping along,back.down the, mountain on their way to South
Carolina, and the situation was, almost similar;in circumstance
to the one, stated at; the opening. of our, story. There. were
rejoicing and mourning at the Pass, for some of the bravest
mountaineers. had, been, left.on, this or, that, battle-field, and
the, widows and orphans wailed and grieved as they searched
for. loved faces,and found, them not.

The Parson. was on. hand ,to greet. the captain ‘with the
news that, farmer.Graham and his daughter were up the val-
ley, the father)yet.very.low, but being drawn further from
death every day by the daughter’s tender nursing.

It.was morning when the mountaineers reached the Pass,

  
    
  
    
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
THE sPY oF 1776. ‘ 145

but it was evening before the captain was willing to leave his
post. The plain below was swarming with British cavalry
again, who, knowing that they were not to pass over the
route again, seemed determined to destroy even the few poor
crops which had struggled into life after the previous raid.
The defenses of the Pass were strengthened, and preparations
made to defend it as vigorously as before. Before noon the
opposing pickets were warting with each other, and Tarle-
ton’s flag floatéd from ‘his‘old camping-ground.

No one caught’ the whispered words of the lovers as they
sat together in the twilight, but all saw that they were happy,
and all rejoiced with them. The sick man reached out his
hand and whispered his’ congratulations, and watching the
pair before him he fell asleep and dreamed that his dead wife
came out of the twilight and placed her daughter’s hand in
that of the soldier, and bid them’ be true to each other.
When the vision disappeared a shadow hoveréd over him and
whispered that his daughter was’ false to her king, but he
waved it away and dreamed of péace and a’ happy mar-
riage.

At midnight the captain was ‘at the Pass, expecting that an
attack ‘would be made before daylight. But, none came, and
at daylight the plain below was clear of cavalry, whose guid-
ons were waving on the edge of the horizon to the south.
An hour after their disappearance a courier came from Sum-
ter, who was making ready for another movement against
some important posts on the Tyger. Tarleton had been
called in another direction, so that the mountaineers could
obey the order to join the General. A few were left behind
as on the former occasion, and before noon Captain Tracy
was moving again, carrying a much lighter heart than before,
but still as anxious for the safety of those left behind.

“1 shall go along with thee!” the Parson had’ said, when

 

 

 
   
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

  

>

he learned of the order borne by the courier, and arguments
were of no avail to detain him.

Reaching Sumter after a hard ride, the mountaineers were
in time to participate in the battle of the Meadows, in which
Major Wyme3s, who had been dispatched to rout Sumter, was
badly defeated.

There were three days of inactivity, and then their old foe
came in sight once more. Sumter slowly retreated toward
the Tyger, Tarleton following, and finally the American com-
mander halted to wait for the attack. Captain Tracy had
scarcely thought of the villain who endeavored to work him
such ruin, since tbe night of his escape, but they were to
meet again and for the last time. Believing himself power-
ful enough to capture the entire Colonial army, Colonel
Tarleton sent forward a flag of truce and a demand~for sur-
render. It was Captain Lisle who bore the flag, and it was

: Captain Tracy who met him on neutral ground. ‘The former
forgot the object of his errand as he found the border cap-
tain befure him, and he gave way to his anger and cha-
grin.

“‘T meant to have hung you!” he growled, savagely.

“Providence ordered otherwise,” replied the captain, with
a smile.

Parson Warner was one of the captain’s party, and as the
angry tones of the British officer reached him where he had
halted a few paces back, he rode forward to act as medi-
ator.

“Thou bearest a white flag,” he said, riding up to Captain
Lisle; ‘‘ didst thou desire our surrender?”

“The unconditional surrender of the entire rebel gang!”
retorted the captain.

‘‘Then I fear that-a great disappointment is in store for
thee. Thou canst ride back and say that much good pow-
THE spy oF 1776. 147

der will be burned here on the banks of the Tyger before
there will be a thought of surrender!”

“Were you instructed to render this reply?” asked the
officer, of Captain Tracy

The captain nodded.

Captain Lisle wheeled and rode away without another
word, and half an hour afterward the fight was raging all
along the front.

Tarleton hurled his troops forward as if he meant to crush ~
out the little army, and he did drive it until the roaring
waters of the swift river stopped them. Then, nerving for
a last desperate effort, the Americans charged his lines, halted
them, drove them, and his defeat was accomplished. Eng-
lish history gives the Colonists credit for having won a bril-
liant victory over a force double their own, and no one is

: entitled to greater than the mountaineers of North Carolina.

It was evening when the roar of battle died away and the
field was left to the victors. There was a cry from the
woods and thickets, where the wounded had sought shelter
and were now dying of thirst, and the roads and fields were
full of dead. The Parson had been busy with the wounded
while the battle raged, but as the enemy retired he left his
Samaritan work to look for his friends. He found a rem-
nant of the band which had ridden from Eagle Pass, but
Captain Tracy and many of his men were missing. Making
a torch to guide him in the darkness, the Parson commenced
his sad search,

 
   

CHAPTER XXXII.
WHAT THE PARSON FOUND.

Fare had it so—that the rival captains should meet just
where the fight raged hottest. The victorious Colonists were
pressing the British over the ridge through the woods, fight-
ing hand to hand, when the captains came face to face.
Each was armed with a saber, cheering on his men, and they
stood for a moment and glared at each other, their faces
stained with powder and their eyes glistening with excite-
ment.

Then their blades crossed, and they sought to cut each
other down, unmindful of the roar and din and shout of bat-
tle around them. Back and forth they surged, cutting and
_ thrusting, and then both fell, each struck by a bullet. The
British gave back and the Colonists pressed on, and the dead
and wounded were forgotten in the mad excitement.

‘Hit in the leg!” whispered Captain Tracy as he felt the
pain and fell back from his effort to rise.

It was in the last charge, half an hour before sundown,
and after his first feeling of faintness wore away, the captain
started to creep down the side-hill to the road, that he might
be discovered the sooner. Struggling to his hands and knees,
he caught sight of Captain Lisle propped up against a tree,
blood trickling from a wound in his breast.

“Crawl over to me, captain—I am dying!” he said, in a
low voice.

The mountaineer dragged himself over the rough ground
until he reached his rival.

“T’ve got my death-wound,” said Captain Lisle—‘‘a bul-

>

 
yy

THE spy oF 1776, 149

let here in the breast which is slowly draining my life away.
I tried to kill you, but I am glad that I did not. In an
hour from now I shall be dead.”

His face had lost its evil look, and his eyes showed that
a great change had come over his mind.

“Tt is a matter now between man and man,” he contin-
ued, after a pause, ‘J want toask you if you have heard
news from farmer Graham’s daughter within the past two
weeks?”

‘| have; she is at the Pass,” replied the captain.

‘¢ And her father?”

“Ts also there.”

“Tam glad to know it. If you have:seen them, you must
know how I plotted against both?”

“They told me all.”

““T have been every thing but a good man,” continued the
Briton, “but it was not until this hour that I could realize
it. I should have had nothing against the farmer or his
daughter, and should have met you as one soldier meets an-
other. That night in the cabin the girl escaped me because
of the crazy man who fought me. I know that I wounded
him before he struck me down, but did I kill him?”

“He died in the woods that night,” replied Captain
Tracy.

“JT should have felt better to hear that he escaped un-
wounded, but I can not live the past over again. Let me ask
if the living will forgive me?”

‘Every one,” was the reply. ‘‘Let me cut away your
coat and see if I can not staunch the blood; you may not be
fatally wounded.”

“‘T have not twenty minutes of life,” whispered the dying
man. ‘‘It’s growing dark to me already, and I feel my life
going. It is the fate of a soldier, and death has no terrors

 
   

150 MAD DAN,

for me; only, I feel a burden off my mind that you have
forgiven me for deeds beneath an honorable soldier.”

‘‘Let me have your hand,” whispered the mountaineer,
dark shadows dancing before his eyes from the pain of his
wound.

The Parson found them thus—two white faces staring
through the darkness, hands clasped, and death on every
side. He sprung forward with a loud cry as he recognized
the pair, but-he uttered a shout of delight as he saw that
Captain Tracy. had not been mortally wounded and had
only fainted from pain and exhaustion. The other captain
was cold and dead.

Some of the mountaineers had followed the Quaker in his
search, and they lifted up the unconscious man and bore him
down the hill and up the road to a farm-house. He was long
in recovering consciousness, and when he opened his eyes
and grasped hands with the Parson, whose eyes were full of
tears, he inquired:

“Was he dead?”

‘‘Leng before we found you.”

‘Be gentle with the body; I forgave him every thing!”

‘And next day, when the dead were buried, the mountain-
eers remembered their captain’s words, and they reared a
stone to mark the grave.

Captain Tracy had been seriously wounded, and the sur-
geous even almost decided that the saving of his life depend-
ed upon the sacrifice of the limb, but, as the days passed,
his case mended, and it was at length announced that he
would live.

The defeat of Tarleton had driven the enemy to a distant
part of the State, never to raid over that section again. One
day Parson Warner appeared at Eagle Pass with the news of
the captain’s misfortune and information that the valley be-

   
THE sPy or 1776. 151

low was safe from further incursions of the enemy. It was
a desolate picture which grected the eyes of those who had
been held in the bosom of the mountain for weeks and weeks,
but, after their first lamentations, they decided to commence
life anew. Rude but comfortable houses were soon erected,
fences repaired, stray stock captured, and the widowed and
fatherless generously provided for.

Stephen Graham was able to sit up and was rapidly regain-
ing his health when he heard that Captain Tracy was wound-
ed. He looked at the white face of his trembling daughter
and said:

““Go to him, my dear child; I shall soon be well.”

She went, and in the old farm-house on the Tyger she
cared for her patient until, one day, he was able to undertake
the journey homeward. There was a new house on the Gra-
ham farm, and the farmer came to meet them—the farmer
and the captain’s mother.

“Come home with me,” he said; ‘all I shall live for in
the hereafter is my daughter’s happiuess.”

CHAPTER XXXIII
THE APPLE BLOSSOMS,

THE weeks flew by, and finally the wounded captain was
able to limp about, and in another month he was ready for
the saddle.

“Thou hast done enough!” exclaimed the Parson, one day,
when the captain informed him that he should rejoin his
companions in arms,

 

 

 
   

  

152 _ MAD DAN,

“No one can do enough until liberty is assured to us and
our children,” was the reply. .

The mother’s pleadings could not move him, and the tears
of his promised.wite were met by promises. and words of hope
and assurance. There were weary winter months, dark
spring days, and even when the June roses bloomed, there
were none who could say that the struggle of years would
result in a free. government for those who had sacrificed
every thing for, principle: At Cowpens, Eutaw, Guilford,
and half a dozen. other battlefields, the sabers of the moun-
taineers struck good blows for the noble cause in which they
had enlisted.

As the leaves- began to fade, the invaders: were pushed
nearer.and nearer the sea, and the hearts of the patriots beat
with new hopes. The people behind the army prayed for
new victories, and the arms:of those in uniform were nerved
to strike harder blows. Before the leaves turned golden the
last battle of the war. was‘at. hand: Pushed from river to
river, and from post' to-post, Cornwallis had at last made a
stand at Yorktown, determined to go no further, and think-
ing that when reinforcements promised him from New York
should arrive, he might become the aggressor again, and re-
cover his lost territory with his renown.

But fortune was to continue on the side of liberty. The
treaty with France had brought over brave Lafayette and a
small army. Washington had dared leave New York to take
command of the Southernarmy. The communications of the
British’ General. were cut off, and his ‘force was besieged.
There were days of bombardment, and sorties, and attacks,
and at length the hour arrived when the mountaineers were
to make their last grand charge of the war. Lafayette was
to lead a division against a redoubt, and he had asked that
the men from the Blue Ridge, and the Alleghanies, might

 
mb

THE SPY o7 1776. 158

form the.van. History tells how well the charge succeeded,
and how Yorktown fell. ;

It was the last of the war, but there was need of such
brave spirits as Captain Tracy for some time longer. April
and its verdure had come before he returned to those who had
so patiently waited. A year had passed since the valley and-
plain had been swept by fire, and the year had healed and
covered up many of thescars. Peace reigned in every house-
hold, and though the widow’s tears had not yet ceased fall-
ing, she thanked God that liberty had been established in the
land.

Men could scarcely believe that it was Stephen Graham
who moved among them, liberal with what he had to give,
God fearing and tender-hearted. The past was buried be-
tween father and daughter, and all its harshness forgotten in
the newer and better feelings which came to them. No one
welcomed the mountaineers home with kinder words than the
man who had once wished them all evil, and they forgot that
there had been any difference of opinion.

““Thou didst turn me into strange paths, with thy war-evils,
powder, burning, and grand charges,” said the Parson, as he
hastened to meet and greet the captain; ‘‘and in revenge, I
shall be present at thy wedding, which I pray may not be
long delayed!”

When May came, and brought the apple blossoms, and
earth’s green carpet was thicker, and the birds nested in the
rose-vines, the mountaineers assembled around their leader
once more. The Parson came down from his reconstructed
cabin on the mountain, the children carried wreaths of ever-
green, and the women looked glad and happy. Under the
apple-hlossoms Stephen Graham gave his daughter away to
be the wife of one who was worthy of her love and trust;
and when the ceremony had been said, no smile was brighter

 

 
154 MAD DAN,

than his. The men cheered, the women waved their hands,
the children sung, and Parson Warner took bride and groom
by the hand, and said:

“Remember always Him who hath given us this joyful
hour.”

 
  
  

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Mold in Books, Paste, Ink, and Leather, To clean Silver-plated Candlesticks, To remove Rust, etc,

THE NURSERY AND SICK ROOM.—Clothing of Infants, Waking Suddenly, Restlessness at
Night, Ointment for Scurf in the Heads of Infants, Teething, Vacciaation, Worms in Children,
About Children, Hair of Children, Hooping Cough, Dysentery, Scarlet Fever, Putrid Sore Throat,
etc., A Cure for Burns, Scalds, Body in Flames, and seventy more recipes.
FOOD FOR THE SICK.—A Strengthening Jelly for Invalids, Mutton Custard for Bowel Com-
laints or Consuinptive Causes, Chicken, Beet, etc., Toast Water, Rice Jelly, Bread Jelly, Calves’
wet Broth, Panada, Beef “ea Wine Whey, Water Gruel, Milk Porridge, Rice Gruel, Medicated

Prunes.

THE TOILET; THE HAIR.—To remove Dandruff, A Capital Pomade, Twiggs’ Receipt for
the Hair, Bandoline for the Hair, Hair-curling Liquid, Oil of Roses.

THE TEETH.—To clean the Teeth and Gums, Quinine Tooth Powder, Prepared Charcoal, Peu-
vian Bark Powder, Homeopathic Chalk, Cuttle Fish Powder, Lip Salve.

THE HANDS.—To remove Stains from the Hands, To improve the Hands and Arms, Ointment

—Eight recip

   

      

for the Hands, Chapped Hands,

THE COMPLEXION. —To preserve It, Wash for a Blotched Face, To remove Sunburn, Blotches,
Freckles, Pimples. Kalydor for Complexion,

COSMETICS, PERF UMES, Erc,—Face Powder, Pearl Powder, Rowland’s Macassar Oil, and
twenty more recipes.

CARE OF CLOTHING.—Fuars, Woolen, Silk, Gloves, Ribbons, Lace, Bonnets, etc.

THE KITCHEN.—To can Fruit, Pears, Quinces, Berries, Peas, Beans, Tomatoes, Green Corn, To
preserve Fruit Jellies from Mold, To prevent “ Graining,’’ and seventy-five morc recipes.

MELANGE.

HOW TO MAKE BUTTER AND CHEESE.

PROCESS OF WINE-MAKING,

MISCELLANEOUS.—To mend China, To get rid of Bedbugs and Cockroaches, To make Ink,
To manufacture Candies, To repair Broken Glass, aad « hundred other useful recipes,

 
Dime Family Haud-Books,
No, 3.-DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN,

And Manual for the Sick Room. Witii Famil, Diseases ani their Treatment, Hints on Nursing
and Rearing, Children’s Complaints, Physiological Facts, Rules of Health, Recipes fur Preparing
well-knowu Curatives, etc., etc., based upon the authority of Drs. Warrun, Dorna, PARKER,
and others, Expressly prepared for the Dime series. r
This admirable work is peculiarly Etted for pRacticaL use in ordinary cases. To mothers and

nurses—to those living ou farms or in villages where a physician is not always available—to those

who wish to save expeise in those cases where the illness is not of a complicated or serious char-
acter—this book will prove a Companion and Guipg. Its contents are as follows:

SKIN DISEASES.—Barber’s Itch, Discolored Skin, Disorders of thw Hair, Disorders of Oil and
Sweat Glands, Dry Pimples, Erysipelas, Inflammatory blush, Itch; Measles, Nettle and Rose Rash,
Capulous Scall, Scarlet Fever, Tetter, Warts and Corns.

RAIN AND NERVE DISEASES,—Apoplexy and’ Palsy, Cramp, Catalepsy, Dropsy of the
Brain, Dizziness and Fainting, Eulargement of the Brain, Epilepsy, Niccough, hydrophobia, Head-
ache, Inflammation of the Brain, Locked-Jaw, Neuralgia, Nightmure, Sunstroke, etc.

DISEASES OF THE THROAT.—Influenza, Mumps.

DISEASES OF THE CHEST,—Bronthitis, Lung Fever, Pleurisy.

DISEASES OF THE ABDOMINAL CAVITY.—Cramp in the Stomach, Colic, Costiveness,
Dyspepsia, Gravel, Heartburn, Inflammation of the Liver, Kidneys, Spleen, Stomach and Boweis,
Milk Sickness, Piles, Suppression of Urine, Vomiting.

DISEASES OF THE GENERAL SYSTEM,— ilious; Remittent’Fever, Boils; Burns and Scalds,
Bites of Venomous Svakes, Bites of Insects, Chilblains, Cancer, Congestive Fever, Carbuncle,
Drowning, Earache, Fever and Ague, Felon, Frost Bites, Malignant Postnle, Nose-bleedi. g, Rup-
ture, Rheumatism, Scurvy, Scrofula Strains, Tocth-ache, Typhoid Fever, etc.

ACCIDENTS—REMEDIES.—Apparent Death from Noxious Vapors, Apparent Death from
Charcoal, Apparent Death from Lightning, Apparent Death by Hanging, Bleeding trom a Wound,
Belladouna, Hyoscyamus, Stramonium and Conium, Clothing on Fire, Upsetting of x Boat.

ANTIDOTES TO POISON.—Ammonia or Hartshorn, Antimonial Wine, Tartar Emetic, Arsen-
ie, Corrosive Sublimate, Dogwood, Ivy, etc., Nitric, Sulphuric, or Muriatic Acid, Niter or Salt-

eter, Oxalic Acid, Opium, Laudanum, “Morphine, Prussic “Acid, Spanish Flies, Strong Lye,
trvch ine, Sugar of Lead, and others.

DISEASES OF CHILDREN.—Croup, Colic, Diarrhea, Fever, Fits, Spasm, Hooping-cough,
Nursing Sick Children, Rickets, Scrofula, Signs of Disease.

RULES OF HEALTH.

No, 4—DIME HOUSEWIVES’ MANUAL;

Or, How to Keep House and Order a Home; How to Dye, Cleanse, and Renovate; How to Cut,
‘it, and Make Garments ; How to Cultivate Plants and Flowers, How to Care for Birds and
Household Pets, etc., etc. A Companion to the Dime ‘ Cook” and “* Recipe”? Books. By Mrs.

. V. Victor. The contents are as follows:

HOW TO KEEP HOUSE.--System, Household Articles, Copper Vessels, Blankets, House
Cleaning, To make a Cheap, Ea and Handsome Chair, A Toilet ‘Table, A Lounge, a Pair of Ot-
toraans, Window Shades, A Washstand, a Wardrobe, An Hour Glass, a Work-Table, Fireboard of
Paper Flowers, To make a Rug, Common Mats and Rugs, The Care of Beds, Feathers, Feather
Bels, A Few Hints, Selection of paper-hangings, The Nursery, Escaping from Fire, Accidents
from Burning, How to Serve Dinner.

HOW TO DYE AND CLEANSE.—-General Directions, Scarlet, Crimson, Pink, Madder, Red,
Purple, Lilae, Purple Slate, Common Slate, Blue, Sky-Blue, Yellow, Orange, Nankeen, Green,
Brown, Cinnamon Color, Black, To Dye Straw Bonnets Black. Straw-Color tor Silks, Orange for
Silk, To Dye Feathers, to Clean Furs, ‘To Clean a Coat, Crape Shawls, Scarfs, etc., Carpets, White
Lace Vails, Kid Gloves, Feathers for Beds, How to Wash and Iron, Starching, Folding, Ironing,
ete., To prepare Starch, Flour starch, Glue Starch, Starciing Clothes, Sprinkling Clothes, Foldin
Clothes, [roning, Starching, To Clear-Starch Lace, etc., Ironing Laces, Calicoes, Flannel, Bl
Lace, To Wash “hite Counterpanes and Calico Quilis, To Restore Luster to Bluck Silk, Black
Reviver for Faded Mourning Dresses, Black Coats, etc., To Restore Dark Blue (or any other Col-
ored) Silk or Ribbon, To Bleach Wool, Silk and Straw.

HOW TO CUT AND MAKE GARMENTS.—A Dress, Summer Jackets, Winter Jackets, Aprons,
Cape, Shirts, Children’s Clothing, Infants’ Clothing, Choice of Colors

HOW TO TAKE CARE OF PLANTS, FLOWERS, Erc.—House Plants, Plants Designed to
Stand Over, Plants Designed for Flowering, Potting Plants for Winter Use, Bulbous Flowers in
the House, Camelia, Japonicas, Green-house Plants, Mignonette Flowers throughout the Yeur, To
Preserve Dahlia Roots, ‘To Protect Tender Plants Left Out, Compost for Potting Plants, The
Flower-garden, Roses, Monthly Roses, Geraniums, Climbers~for Walls, The Pas-ion-Flower,
Callas or Ethiopian Lily, Dahlias, Lilacs, Nasturtion, Gooseberry, Strawberry, Celery, Asparagus,
Quince, To Obtain Different Flowers from the Same Stem, ‘lo Remove Mildew and Blight,

HOW TO TAKE CARE OF BIRDS AND HOUSEHOLD PETS.--When and How to Pair
Canaries, Situation of the Cnge, Food while Pairing, Nests and Nest-Boxes, Food while Bearing
their Young, Time of Hatching, How to Feed Them, To Bring the Young Ones up by Hand, Paste
for Young Birds, German Paste for Cage Birds, To keep away Insects, To Distinguish the Sex,
Mocking Bird, American Yellow Bird, Bullfinches.

DISEASES OF BIRDS AND THEIR TREATMENT,—Molting, Swelling or Inflammation,
The Surfeit, The Pip, the Husk, Egg-bound.

No. 5._DIME DRESSMAKER,

Introduction, The Corsage, Waist or Body, The Sleeves, Mourning, Negligee Toilet, Ribbon:
Traveling Toilet, Cloak-making, Bonnets, Patterns for Cutting Out Dresses, Work, Materials ani
Implements, Purchase of Materials, Dictionary of Millinery and Dressmaking, Technical Terms in
Dressinaking and Millinery, Laces and Embroideries, Colors, Flowers, ctc., Corbeille in Marriage.

1 These books are for sale by all _newsdealers; or will be sent, post-pnid_to any address, on
peceipt of price, KKM GENTS Racu, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 Wm, St. N. ¥. _

 

 

 

 

  

  

   

   

ope
u

 

  
  
  
  

    
Young People’s Hand-Books

The Dine Hand-Books for’ Young People cover a wide range of subjects, and are especially
adapted to theirend. They constitute at once the cheapest and the most usefal wo + put
into the market for popular circulation, .Each volume 100 pazes 12mo., fenicheateals, on receipt
of price, by the publ.shers, BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 “Villiam Street, New York.

No, 1—DIME GENTS’ LETTER-WRITER,

And Practical Guide to Compositions, embracing forms, models, suggestions and rules for the use
of ull classes, on «11 occasions; also a list of iinproper words and expressions, together with theit
correct forins; and also a complete dictionary of mottoes, phrases, idioms, etc. By Lours La.
exanv, M.D.

 

CONTENTS,
COMPOSITION.—The secret of a good letter; at silence; communicating distressing news;
directions toa novice; the rules of composi-| to parents, informing of their son, etc.

tion, etc, LETTERS OF RELATIONSHIP,—Family cor.
GENERAL ADVICE TO LETTER-WRITERS.| _respondence ; its sacred character and proprig

 

LETTERS OF BUSINESS. ties ; examples of real le ters, etc.
LETTERS OF PLEASURE AND FRIEND-| LETTERS OF VARIOUS OCCASIONS.—A
SHIP. certificate of character; another, for a maid;

LETTERS OF LOVE.—Hints and suggestions;| another, fora clerk ; application for a school-
a declaration; answer; a briefer declaration teacher’s place ; soliciting a vote; declining a
of attachment; answer; real love-letters off nomination; a girl applying for» place; an-
eminent personages, etc. | other ; aon on fors governess’ situation,ete

LETTERS OF DUTY, OF TRUST, Ere.—What) WRITING FOR T: RESS.
they are and how to write them ; forms, etc. ;| IMPROPRIETIES OF EXPRESSION.
adyice from a lady to her friend; a complaint! PHRASES, MOTTOES, IDIOMS, Ere.

No. 2.—-DIME BOOK OF ETIQUETTE,

Yor Ladies and Gentlemen ; being a guide to true gentility aud good-breeding, and a complete di-
rectory to the usages and observances of society. Including etiquette of the Bull-room, of the
Evening Party, the Dinner Party, the Curd and Chess Table, of Business, of the Home Cirele,
etc., etc. Prepared expressly for the “ Dime Series,” by a Committee of Three.

CONTENTS.

ENTRANCE INTO SOCIETY.—Confidence vs., ON CONVERSATION.—Its usefulness and good
bashfulness ; kindness v-. rudeness ; the bores| results; how to comport yourself; directions
of society, how to tr at them. for it.

ON DRESS AND ORNAMENTS.—The vul-| ON LETTER AND NOTE WRITING.-=Pro-
garity of “flash ” attire; simplicity in dress a) —prieties and improprieties of the same; gene-
mark of good breeding. | ral direetions for a good letter.

ON VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, Ere.—The}] HOW TO GIVE AND RECEIVE INVITA-
law of politeness a law of kindness ; when} TIONS.—General usage in all cases.
visits are proper ; introductions, presentations, ON ENTERTAINMENTS.—Etiquette of the
ete., and forms, | table; how to serve a guest, and how to be

EVENING PARTIES, DANCES, Erc.—The et-| _ served; special directions.
iquette of the ball-room; geseral directions) ON PERSONAL CLEANLINESS.—A word te
for the same. | the laborer; on religion and respect for aye;

GAMES OF CARDS, CHESS, Erc.—When pro-| on theaters, promen des, etc. ; on love, cours-
per and how conducted; general rules of the ship and marriage ; the luws of home etiquette
games; the ill-breeding of betting or brag-| special advice to Indies; general observations
ging. | and closing chapter. *

No. 3.-DIME BOOK OF VERSES,

Comprising Rhymes, Lines and Mottoes, tor Lovers and Friends; Valentines, Album Pieces, Gat
Verses, Birthday Lines, and peetry for Bridals, Births, Mourning, Epitaphs, etc.

CONTENTS,

   
  

 

VERSES FOR ALBUMS. EPITAPHS AND MOURNING VERSES,—Fo,’
MOTTOES AND COUPLETS, all ages and classes.

ST. VALEN & VERSES. THE LOVER’S CASKET.

BRIDAL AND MARRIAGE VERSES. {QF This little volume is averitable pocket com

VERSES ON BIRTHS AND INFANCY, panion. It is everybody’s poet. It is for all
VERSES TO SEND WITH FLOWERS. occasions, for old and young, for male and fe

VERSES OF LOVE AND AFFECTION. male. It will be treasured like a keepsake

HOLIDAY VERSES. and used like a dictionary. .

BIRTHDAY YERSES.
No, 4.-DIME BOOK OF DREAMS,

Their Romance and Mystery; with a complete interpreting Dictionary. Compifed from the moe
accredited sources for the *‘ Dime Series,”
CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTORY. | —Favoring the supernatural nature of dreama

THE ROMANCE OF DREAMS.—Embodying| _ and a belief in their revelations.
dreams of all kinds and charac with the! DICTIONARY OF DREAMS,—Comprising the
construction placed upon them by the mostem-| most complete interpretation-Dictionary ever
inent authorities, and narratives of the extra-| prepared, embracing the whole Alphabet «{
ordinary fulfillment of them, subjects,

THE PHENOMENA OF DREAMS.—A physi-| ( It is a volume fu'l of interest even to the
cian’s views on the subject, giving a rational general render, being, in that respect, soine-
solution of the phenomena, with instances cit thing dike Mrs, Crowe’s “ Night-Side of Na-
ed in proof, tnre,”’ and Robert Dale Owen’s ‘* Pootialls oy

MRS, CATHARINE CROWE’S TESTIMON Y.l the Boundary of Another World.”

 

 

 

 

 
   
  
   
   
   
    
   
     
    
     
 
  
 
   
    
     
  
    
     
    
     
       
       
     
          
       
   

Woung People’s Hand-Books,

 

No, 5.—DIME FORTUNE-TELLER.

COMPRISING THE ART OF VORTUNE-TELLING, MOW TO READ CHARACTER, BTC,

CONTENTS,

FORTUNE-TELLING BY CARDS.—Dealing
the Cards by Threes, Dealing the Cards by
Sevens, Dealing. the Cards by Fifteens, The
Twenty-one Cards, The Italian Method, Pre-
sent, Past and Future, Another Method of|
Consulting the Cards, To Know if you will
Get your Wish, The English Method of Con-
sulting the Cards.

HOW TO TELL A PERSON’S CHARACTER

No. 6.—DIME LADIE

er MEANS OF CABALISTIC CALCULA

FALMISTRY, OR TELLING FORTUNES BY
THE LINES OF THE HAND.

FORTUNE-TELLING BY THEGROUNDS IN
A TEA OR COFFEE CUP.

HOW TO READ YOUR FORTUNE BY THE
WHITE OF AN EGG.

DREAMS AND THEIR INTERPRETATION.

S’ LETTER-WRITER.

Giving the various forms of Letters of School Days, Love and Friendship, of Society, ete.
CONTENTS.

HOW TO WRITE AND HOW NOT TO
WRITE.

HOW TO PUNCTUATE, CAPITALIZE, Ere.

LETTERS OF CHILDHOOD,

LETTERS OF SCHOOL DAYS,

LETTERS OF FRIENDSHIP.

LETTERS OF COURTSHIP AND LOVE,

LETTERS OF SOCIETY : INVITATIONS, IN-
TRODUCTIONS, Ere.

LETTERS OF SYMPATHY.

WRITING FOR THE PRESS,

RULES FOR SPELLING,

PROVERBS FROM SHAKSPEARE.

POETIC QUOTATIONS.

WORDS ALIKE IN SOUND, BUT DIFFER-
ENT IN MEANING AND SPELLING.

EXPLANATION OF THE MOST COMMON
ABBREVIATIONS OF WORDS,

FRENCH QUOTATIONS AND PHRASES,

 

LETTERS OF BUSINESS.

SPANISH WORDS AND PHRASES.
ITALIAN WORDS AND PHRASES,

No. 7.—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET, z
A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Courtship and Marriage. Embracing also a eemplete
Floral Dictionary, ete.
CONTENTS.

FRIENDSHIP.—Its Personality, Between Man
and Woman, Close Communion Proper, Let-
ters, A Warning, Excellent Advice, A Prime

 

of Marriage, The Troussenu, Presents, Bou-
nets, The Bridesmaids, The icideguantegoe
he Bride, The Bridegroom, the Certificate,

Point, Allow no, Improper Intimacy, Special] Alter the Ceremony, The Wedding Break fi
to Young Men, Something to Avoid, oe “Cards” or “No Cards,” Hotes Cangeatule”

tries, Gilts, Beware of Love, Correspondence.

tor:

LOVE.—The Dawn of Love, Love’s Secretive- AFTER MARRIAGE.—Something to be Read

ness, Confidences, The First Consc ousness of)
Love, A Man’s Way, A Woman’s Way, Un-|
worthy Objects of Love by Woman, Unwor-|
thy Objects of Man’s Luve, How to Avoid
Mistakes.

COURTSHIP.—The Door Ajar, Disengaged, En-
guged: at what age is it proper, Enzagement
not to be protracted, The Wooing Time, The
Proposal, Asking Papa, The Rights of a Pa-
rent, Engaged, Proposal Rejected, Breaking off
an Engagement.

 

Twice, Twelve Gelden Life-Maxims, A Talk
MiscertASEOUS.

SCELLAN -—Language of the Hand-
kerchief, Langunge of the Fan, Language of
the Cane, Language of Finger Rings, Wedding
Anniversaries, viz.: The Paper Wed
Wooden Wedding, Tin Weduing, Crys

Vedding, Silver Wedding,

  
 

Wedding, Linen
Golden Weddi

ing.
jae LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.—How to

se the Vocabulary, The Vocabulary. I—

MARRIAGE.—The Proper Time, Various forms! Flowers, The Vocabulary. I]—Sentiments.

No. 8.—DIME BALL-ROOM COMPANION.

Avd Guide to Dancing. Giving Rules of Etiquette, Hints on Private Parties, Toilets for the
jall-rooim, ete.

CONTENTS.

ETIQUETTE.—Arrangements, Private Parti
The Parlor or Dancing Apn.tment, Music,
freshments, Ladies’ Toilets, Gentlemen’s
Dress, The Guests.

MASQUERADES.

PROMENADE CONCERTS.

SOCTABLES.

ORDER OF DANCING.

SPECIAL RULES OF CONDUCT.

 

 

SQUARE DANCES.—Piain Quadrille, Doubie
Quadrille, The Nine Pir, The Lanciers, The
Caledonians, The Prince Imperial, The Vir-
ginia Reel, The Spanish Dance, La Tempete.

ROUND DANCES.—The Waltz a Trois Temps,
Waltz in Double Time, Cellarius or Mazour!
Waltz, The Schottisehe, The Polka, the Gal
Redowa, Polka Redowa, Esmnerelda Danis!
Polka, The Varsoviana.

3

 

437 These books are for sale by all newsdealers; or will be sent, postpaid, to any address, om
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,

receipt of price, Tax CRNT KAcH, by

98 William Street, New Yerk.

|
j

 
 

DIME TLAND-BOOKS OF
GAMES AIN D PASTIMES.

The Dime Hand-Books of Games and Popular Hand-Bouks cover a variety of subjects, and aro
especially adapted to their end. Each volume ae es 12ino., sent tpaid om receipt of price
oy tue publishers, BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 William Street, New York.

DIME BOOK OF 100 GAMES,

mprising Forfeits and Conundrums, tor Sucial Parties and Home Amusement, Games for Chil-

a aa. Games for Young People, Gaines for the Middle-ayed, Games for the Aged,
CONTENTS» ee

Acted Verbs, Acting Rhymes, A literary Game, Animal, Vegetable or Mineral, A Simple
Triek, Aunt aire Toilet, Birds Fly, Blind-man's buff, Blowing whe Feather, Book Notices, Hae,
Contidential Answers, Consequences, Conunuruims, Conversation Cards, Crooked Answers, Cr. w
fa the Farmer's Corufield, Eartu, Air or Water, Famous Numbers, Forieits, Fox and Geese, Guin;
on a Journey, Going to Jerusalem, Green, Yellow, Biue and Pink, Guess any Numver Thought 0
Hats on, Hieroglyphtes, Hiding the Haudkerchiel, Hot and Cold, How, When and W bere, Linitae
tion, I’ve been Shopping, Magic Numbers, Making up a Cargo, Noted Personages, One Old Ox
Drange and Le.non, Pairs, Passing the Scissors, Post Ottice, Presenting Gifts, Proverbs, Puss in the
Corner, Satp trom China, Stage-coach, The eee the Birdcatcher, The Bird Merch-nt, The

arlof Trade, (he Bouquet, The Christmas Bag, The Christmas Pie, The Clairvoyant, The Con-
junction, The Grand Mufti, The Hatchet, The Hidden Word, The Magic Wand, The Quaker’s

veting, The Revolving fea-table, The S oemaker, The Silent Orchestra, ‘Ihe Trades, ‘The
Whistle, Tae Wild Beast Show, the Woodman, Think of a Word, Touching an Article, Uncle
Zev’s Dinner, What and Why, Whisking the Handkerchief, What Did He Give You, What is ny
Thought Like, What's the Price of Whest.

FORFELT3.—A Song, The Will, Good Advice, Comparisons, The Secret, The Confidentis1
Answer, The First Letters, The Deaf Man, The Pilgrim, The Clock, ’Twas I, The Parrot, Nun-
fashion Kiss, The Two Chairs, The Twister, Four Corners, To kiss a Box inside and out with-
out opening it, To put Yourself through the Keyhole, To spell Constantinople, Kiss, Tap and
Box, A Rabbit's Kiss, Back to Back, Pinching, Feeding, Blindfold, the Quaker.

CONUNDRUMS.
DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR,

Acomplete hand-book of instruction, giving the entertaining mysteries of this most interesting
and fascinating of g.imes.
z 4 t CO TENTS.

NAME3.—Placing the Chessmen, Powers and Moves of the Chessmen, Capturing Power of the
men, Lilustrations of the Moves, The Technical Terms or Chess, Technical Terms Illustrated, The
Laws of Chess, Preliminary Games, with Notes, Checkmate—Eud-Games, How to Queen a Pawn,
Maxims and Advice for Chess Students, King Bishop’s Opening, ‘ihe Giuoco Piano, Philidor’s De-
fence, Petrotf's Defence, Ruy Lopez Knight’s Game, Scotch Gambit, Evans Gambit, King’s Bish-
- Gambit, King's Knight's Gambit, Salvio and Cochrane’s Defences, Muzi Gambit, Allgaier

ambit, Cunningham Gambit, Queen’s Gambit, Miscellaneous Openings, I!lustrative Games,

DIME HAND-BOOK OF CROQUET.

A complete Guide to the Principles and Practice of the game. By: Epmunp Routiever. Giving
also, the rules proposed by various American writers on the game, ILLusrRatKD.

CONTENTS,
MATERIALS OF THE GAME.—The Mallets, The Balls, The Hoops, The Posts, Clips.
HOW THE GAME IS PLAYED,
PARLOR CROQUET. 7
RULES OF THE GAME-Striking, Order of Playing, The Croquet, the Posts, the Re
ES +A ME.—Striki ler of Playin e uet, the Pos! @ Rover.
CROQUET TERMS. von ee
DIME BASE-BALL PLAYER FOR 1876.

Containing the Professional Club Records for 1875, of each individual club; also the Reeords of the
Best Games played zi each of the prominent Amateur Clubs of the country ; together with the
Scores of the Movel Games ie by each class of the fraternity during 1875. Also, full in-
structions in the new points of play, and the new codes of Plaving Rules of the Amateur and
Professivnal Associations, Batting and Pitching averages, etc. Edited by Henry Chadwick.

DIME BOOK OF CRICKET AND FOOTBALL.

goer Crieketer’s Companion, containing complete instructions in the elements of Bowling
t
~

  

 

Batting and Fielding ; also the Revised Laws of the game; Remarks on the Duties of Umpires,
the Mary-le-Bone Cricket Club Rules and Regulations; Bets, ete., etc. By Hanay Cuapvwicx,
eutbor of “ Base-ball Player,” :

DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING.

Embracing all the rules of the art for both sexes. Illustrated. By Captain Puruir Perenszw.
The following is the conten
Advisory Instructions, Rule:

 
  

 

pon entering the water, Temperature of the water, Temperature

  

 

ef the body, Time for the m, the Start, Learning the Hand-stroke, Learning the Leg-atroke,
General Direetions for Attitude, Management of the Breath, pee the Header, Leaping from
ight, a Shallow Dive, Deep Diving, How to Come to the Surface, Swiinming on the Back, the

   

B
“Steamer,” Floating, Hand-over-hand Swimmirg, Swimming from a Boat, Precautions for a
Short Swim, the Cramp, How to Swim in Times of Dangor, the “ Washing tub,” “ Creeping,”
Sea-bathing—how to py eg Wares, the Tides, eve., A Chapter for the Ladies, A Specimen
Female Swimming-sehoo!, te Manage Cases of Drowning, Dy. Franklin’s ‘ Code” for Swine
mera, Comelading Remora,
  

1776. Dollar Books tor a Dimet 1876.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
Lives of Great Americans.

In these charming and pi¢turesque books'are p d plete and authentic biographies of
mary of the men who have added luster to the Republic by their lives and deeds. The series
e@whraces :

}. George Washington.

13. Mad Anthony Wayne. 5. Marquis De Lafayette.
John Paul Jones. ee | 6. ‘

[ 4. Ethan Allen. Daniel Boone,

7. Israel Putnam.» (‘ Old Pat.’’)

These b iful books are plete in. one vol hundred large 12mo. pages each, and
old by all newsdealers ; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of price—ten eents each, by
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.

Miscellaneous Dime Books.
CONTENTS DIME MELODIST.
Leaves that fall in spr’g|Soitly, ye night winds, er enaeeNss fee},

osey,
do I weep,

 

 

Bonnie Eloise,
Sleeping I dreamed, The female smuggler, © |Far onthe deep sea,
Fare thee well, Katy, [Where is home? My sighs to thee,

Love me little, Ettie May, \A flower that bloometh | Wh

 

 

   

Strike the light guitar, |Keemo Kimo, Anna Bell, ‘onnie biue e’e,
My love is a saileur, In the wild chamois’, |Swinging all day long, | Winsome W inn’e,
Some one to love, Lhad a gentle mother, | Work, work, “cenes that are bright,

 

Tne hazel dell, Poor Thomas Day, | Wild Tiadatton, A lowly youth,

Oft in toe stilly night, | Pretty Nelly, |A hundred years ago, [One cheering werd,

The old folks are gone, |’Tis the witching hour; | Widow Machree, The low-backed car,
My soul in one sigh, Forgive but don’t forget | Dream of thee no more, |H: pe on hope ever,

Mother, sweet mother, |Thou art mine, love, {Mary of Lake Enon, |The mother’s smile,

The good by at the door|Darkness on the wou’n,| Mary of the glen, Marion Lee,

Be guiet do, or 111 call |Once upon a tiie, |Carry me to Tennessee, | Annie Lowe,

Re wad for 3 voices, Dearest spot of earth, Rime, bome, bell, ‘One parting song.

 

 

CONTENTS DIME SCHOOL MELODIST.

 

A boat, a boat, Flowers and sunshine, {Little cottage, oe the mountain,
A farmer's life, £ owgently,sweet Af‘n, | Merry sleigh ride, |Spring is here,

A smile from thee, Gallant and gayly, Morning rambles, |Swiling May,

Blow, blow, blow, Gentle troubadour, Morning call, Sweep birds are singigs

Happy schoolboy, |Morning has come, Switzer's seng of home,

 

Bonny Eloise,

 

Bright rosy morning, | Hark, ’tis the bells, Murmur gentle lyre, The sleigh ride,
Busy bee, Harvest time, Music murmuring, |The invitation,
Canadian bont song, Haste thee winter, lOh, dear, what can the The river,

Chairs to mend, House that Jaek built, matter be! |The bell doth toll,
Chimney nook, Hazel Dell, [shine, Over hill, over dale, | Time to walk,

Day is fading,
Elements of musie,

+ |I love the merry sun-|Over the summer sea,

Ud choose to be a daisy,| Peaceful slumbering,

Tyrolese evening hymn,
es)

 

Ettie M: Tn words of jo (Round for four voices,
ror oft hee, Joy of fratestns, |Row, fishermen, row, When tempted to wane
Far o’er hill and dell, |Joy, freedom to-day, Scotland's burning, |. der, .
Fare thee well, Kitty, ‘Lightly row, See-our oars, ‘Working lay,

DIME GUIDE TO CURLING AND SKATING.
“Complete Manual for the Teo: giving all the Jaws of the popular game of “Curling,” with
i ; licit instractions for Skating, with a Guide to all the “figures”
ee Beery ire a ete geuictee i embracing also the laws of the Skater’s Club of New
York. Edited by Hinny Cuapwicr.
DIME ROBINSON CRUSOE.
d editi inted in large octavo, double columns, with numerous {llustra.
peels cir wiaiteesia: Guedes Ware: comprising the text of one of the best and
latest London editions, and printed ina style of great neatness and beuuty—thus constituting
ene of the most charming and cheapest editions of this celebrated book ever offered to the pul
DIME JOKE BOOKS.
No. 1—POCKET JOKE ROOK,
No. 2—JIM CROW JOKE BOOK.
No. 3—-PADDY WHACK JOKE BOOK.
a ove books are for sale by al] newsdealers; or will be sent, postpaid, to any address,
on Wat Eases oxwTs een, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publiskers, 98 William Stree
Mew

 

 

  

 

 

     
     
 

 

 

 

 

 
 

BEADLE & ADAMS: ‘
New Twenty-Cent Novels!

This series of NEW POPULAR NOVELS, including some of the
VERY BEST STORIES AND KOMANCES IN AMERICA, Will be rendered
even more brilliant and taking by the introduction to it of

ALBERT W. AIKEN’S

CITY LIFE SERIES,

THE PHANTOM HAND,
GENTLEMAN GEORGE,
THE HEART OF FIRE,
THE WHITE WITCH,
Deeply exciting and powerful stories that lift away the vail from City
Life and Character, .nd show the author to be a master in that field,
as in the great Dick TALBOT SERIES he showed himself to be a
master in the Wild Western Field.

OTHER TWENTY-CENT NOVELS:
. OVERLAND Kir. 13. Tar CarrrorniA Derecrive.
2. Rocxy Mounrarn Ros. 14. Maum GuInra. ~
KENTUCK, THE SPORT. 15. Map Dan.
Insun Drex. | 16. Tur Wor Demon.
. THe Scape Hunters. 17. Turkry Dan.
. THe Prarrm Mazerra. | 18. Paciric Perr.
Tue Stuenr HunTER. |19. Simon Girry.
THE MAN FROM TEXAS. 20. Daxora DAN.
Tue Rep Ragan. 21. Rep Ros, THE Boy Roap-
Tur Winaep WHALE. AGENT.
Ipano Tom, THE OuTLAW. | 22. O1p Dan Racknack, THE
2. THe Wuitkr Squaw. GREAT EXTARMINATOR.

THE Poantom Hann. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready March 5.
GENTLEMAN GroraE. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready April 5.
Tur Hearr or Free. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready May 5.
Tar Wuire Wircn. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready June 5,

Sold by all newsdealers; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on re-
ceipt of price—Twenty Cents each—by

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, N. Y.

COC VOT TTC CTC CCST TTT VTS e

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