United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
Master Richard marvelled much at the disappearance of the Tory, and,
though I knew it was of the Tory maid he was thinking, I said not a
word, but went on with my duties; and manifold they were for many days
to come. The drilling of the raw recruits, who, though they were full
of fire and _elan_, were not used to the strict obedience of orders,
was at first very difficult. But soon there came the spirit and the
pride that were to make them the best drilled troops, the dandies and
macaronies of the army. And so, with the drilling of recruits and
assisting Captain Ramsay in the formation of the regiment, a week
passed by before a day came when Dick and I found a few spare hours on
our hands. And having certain plans and purposes in view, and not
wishing them to be known to Dick, I sat and watched for an opportunity
to slip away.
Master Richard, it was evident, had also some plans on foot, for after
moving from the chair to the top of a box and then back again, he
stretched his arms above his head, and, yawning, said: "I believe I
will take a little canter down the south road; come along?"
"No," I replied; "I am going to ride a short distance down the east
road."
"All right," said he, and springing from his chair, he went to order
his horse. I soon followed, and, having seen Dick well on his way,
rode for a short distance on the east road, then turned, rode back,
and entered the road which runs along the bank of the Elk, by which we
had entered the town on our journey from Kent. As I rode, I hummed a
jovial hunting-song and touched Toby with the spur, for I was quite
jubilant at having got rid of Dick and so well on the road to my
adventure.
My time was short and it was good twelve miles to the Braes, but
Toby's sire was a son of old Ranter, and I knew he could do it in an
hour and a half. So Toby felt the spur, and I barely noticed the miles
as we flew along, until we came to the road that leads south to the
Braes. Down this road we turned, and as we were so near the end of our
journey I began to think of the reasons and excuses I should give for
my visit. Reason! Pshaw! What better reason does a Marylander want
than a pair of blue eyes? And if Mistress Jean should so much as
demand it by the merest glance of those eyes, I would tell her so.
Aye, but she is a Tory and wears the red cockade. True, but the fairer
the enemy the more difficult the prize, the greater the glory and
effort to win.
And so, having justified my invasion of the stronghold of the Tory, I
pricked Toby with the spur and rode on more rapidly, when, on turning
a bend in the road where it is intersected by one from the east, whom
should I come face to face with but Master Richard? For a moment he
stared at me with open mouth, and I at him; then his brow grew dark.
"I thought," he cried; but suddenly the humour of our meeting came
over him. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he broke out into a
hearty burst of laughter, and I could do nothing but follow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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