Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
Audrey made no answer, for just then the trumpet blew for the mount,
and the fisherman must needs draw in and pocket his hook and line.
Clear, high, and sweet, the triumphant notes pierced the air, and were
answered from the hills by a thousand fairy horns. The martial-minded
Governor would play the soldier in the wilderness; his little troop of
gentlemen and rangers and ebony servants had come out well drilled for
their tilt against the mountains. The echoes were still ringing, when,
with laughter, some expenditure of wit, and much cheerful swearing, the
camp was struck. The packhorses were again laden, the rangers swung
themselves into their saddles, and the gentlemen beneath the sugar-tree
rose from the grass, and tendered their farewells to the oreads.
Alce roundly hoped that their Honors would pass that way again upon
their return from the high mountains, and the deepening rose of Molly’s
cheeks and her wistful eyes added weight to her mother’s importunity.
The Governor swore that in no great time they would dine again in the
valley, and his companions confirmed the oath. His Excellency, turning
to mount his horse, found the pioneer at the animal’s head.
“So, honest fellow,” he exclaimed good-naturedly, “you will not with
us to grave your name upon the mountain tops? Let me tell you that you
are giving Fame the go-by. To march against the mountains and overcome
them as though they were so many Frenchmen, and then to gaze into the
promised land beyond--Odso, man, we are as great as were Cortez and
Pizarro and their crew! We are heroes and paladins! We are the Knights
of”--
His horse, impatient to be gone, struck with a ringing sound an
iron-shod hoof against a bit of rock. “The Knights of the Horseshoe,”
said the gentleman nearest the Governor.
Spotswood uttered a delighted exclamation: “’Gad, Mr. Haward, you’ve
hit it! Well-nigh the first horseshoes used in Virginia--the number
we were forced to bring along--the sound of the iron against the
rocks--the Knights of the Horseshoe! ’Gad, I’ll send to London and have
little horseshoes--little gold horseshoes--made, and every man of us
shall wear one. The Knights of the Golden Horseshoe! It hath an odd,
charming sound, eh, gentlemen?”
None of the gentlemen were prepared to deny that it was a quaint and
pleasing title. Instead, out of very lightness of heart and fantastic
humor, they must needs have the Burgundy again unpacked, that they
might pledge at once all valorous discoverers, his Excellency the
Governor of Virginia, and their new-named order. And when the wine was
drunk, the rangers were drawn up, the muskets were loaded, and a volley
was fired that brought the echoes crashing about their heads. The
Governor mounted, the trumpet sounded once more, and the joyous company
swept down the narrow valley toward the long, blue, distant ranges.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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