SCENES 84 - 90

To Songs: SETTING SUN * IRON BARS * RUDE HUT

SCENE 84 - Lt. MASON enters room where the prisoner is held

(The soldier is standing at the open door of the apartment, looking in with a suspicious eye on the supposed British officer. On observing his lieutenant, he falls back with habitual respect, and replies, with an air of puzzled thought -)

SOLDIER: I don't know, sir, but just now the prisoner looked queer. Ever since the preacher left him, he don't look as he used to do - but, (gazing intently over the shoulder of his officer) it must be him, too! There is the same powdered head, and the darn in the coat, where he was hit the day we had the last brush with the enemy.

Lt. MASON: And all this noise is occasioned by your doubting whether that poor gentleman is your prisoner, or not, is it, sirrah? Who the devil do you think it can be, else?

SOLDIER: I don't know who else it can be, but he is grown thicker and shorter, if it is he; and see for yourself, sir, he shakes all over, like a man in an ague.

(This is but too true. CAESAR is an alarmed auditor of this short conversation, and, from congratulating himself upon the dexterous escape of his young master, his thoughts are very naturally beginning to dwell upon the probable consequences to his own person.)

(The pause that succeeds the last remark of the sentinel in no degree contributes to the restoration of his faculties. Lt. MASON is busied in examining with his own eyes the suspected person of the black, and CAESAR is aware of the fact, by stealing a look through a passage under one of his arms, that he has left expressly for the purpose of reconnoitering.)

(Capt. LAWTON would have discovered the fraud immediately, but MASON is by no means so quick-sighted as his commander. He, therefore, turns rather contemptuously to the soldier, and speaking in an under-tone, - )

MASON: That anabaptist, methodistical, quaker, psalm-singing rascal has frightened the boy, with his farrago about flames and brimstone. I'll step in and cheer him with a little rational conversation.

SOLDIER: I have heard of fear making a man white, (drawing back, and staring as if his eyes would start from their sockets) but it has changed the royal captain to a black!

(CAESAR, unable to hear what MASON uttered in a low voice, and having every fear aroused in him by what has already passed, incautiously removes the wig a little from one of his ears, in order to hear the better, without in the least remembering that its color might prove fatal to his disguise.)

(The sentinel has kept his eyes fastened on the prisoner, and notices the action. The attention of MASON is instantly drawn to the same object; and, forgetting everything but the censure that might alight on his corps, the lieutenant springs forward and seizes the terrified CAESAR by the throat; for no sooner does he hear his name than he knows his discovery is certain; and at the first sound of MASON's heavy boot on the floor, he rises from his seat, and retreats precipitately to a corner of the room.)

MASON: Who are you? (dashing the head of the old man against the angle of the wall at each question) Who the devil are you? and where is the Englishman? Speak thou thundercloud! Answer me, you jackdaw, or I'll hang you on the gallows for the spy.

(CAESAR continues silent. Neither the threats nor the blows can extract any reply, until the Lieutenant, by a very natural transition in the attack, sent his heavy boot forward in a direction that brought it in direct contact with the most sensitive part of the negro - his shin. The most obdurate heart could not have extracted further patience, and CAESAR finally gives in. The first words he speaks are -)

CAESAR: Golly, massa, you t'ink I got no feelin'?

Lt. MASON: By heavens! it is the negro himself! Scoundrel! Where is your master? and who was the priest? (While speaking, he makes a movement as if about to renew the attack; but CAESAR cries aloud for mercy, promising to tell all that he knows.)

MASON: Who was that priest? (Holding his leg in threatening suspense_

CAESAR: HARVEY, HARVEY! (dancing from one leg to another, as he thinks either in turn might be assailed).

MASON: HARVEY who, you black villain?

CAESAR: BIRCH! (he shrieks, falling on his knees, with tears rolling in large drops over his shining face.)

MASON: HARVEY BIRCH! (Hurling the black from him and rushing from the room and shouting) To arms! To arms! Fifty guineas for the life of the peddler spy - give no quarter to either. Mount, mount! to arms! to arms! to horse!

(During the uproar occasioned by the assembling of the dragoons, who all rush tumultuously to their horses, CAESAR rises from the floor, where he has been thrown by MASON, and begins to examines into his injuries. happily for himself, he had alighted on his head, and consequently sustained no material damage.)

SCENE 85 - Evening on the road leading from the house into the hills)

(The road which is necessary for the peddler and the English captain to travel, in order to reach shelter of the hills, lay, for a half-mile, in full view from the door of the building that had so recently been the prison of the latter; running for the whole distance over the rich plain, that spreads to the very foot of the mountains; which here rise in a nearly perpendicular ascent from their bases; it then turns short to the right, and is obliged to follow the windings of nature, as it won its way into the bosom of the Highlands.)

(To preserve the supposed difference in their stations, HARVEY rides a short distance ahead of his companion, and maintains the sober, dignified pace, that is suited to his assumed character. On their right, the regiment of foot soldiers lay in tents; and the sentinels who guard their encampment are to be seen moving with measured tread under the skirts of the hills themselves.)

(The first impulse of HENRY is, certainly, to urge the beast he rides to his greatest speed at once to accomplish his escape, but also relieve himself from the torturing suspense of his situation. But the forward movement that the youth makes for this purpose is instantly checked by the peddler.)

HARVEY: Hold up! would you ruin us both? Fall into the place of a black, following his master. Did you not see their blooded chargers, all saddled and bridled, standing in the sun before the house? How long do you think that miserable Dutch horse you are on would hold his speed, if pursued by the Virginians? Every foot that we can gain without giving the alarm, counts a day in our lives. Ride steadily after me, and on no account look back. They are as subtle as foxes, ay, and as ravenous for blood as wolves!

(HENRY reluctantly restrained his impatience, and followed the direction of the peddler. His imagination, however, continually alarmed him with the fancied sounds of pursuit; though BIRCH, who occasionally looked back under the pretense of addressing his companion, assured him that all continued quiet and peaceful.

HENRY: But it will not be possible for CAESAR to remain long undiscovered. Had we not better put our horses to the gallop, and by the time they can reflect on the cause of our flight, we can reach the corner of the woods?

HARVEY: Ah, you little know them, Captain WHARTON, there is a sergeant at the moment looking after us, as if he thought all was not right; the keen-eyed fellow watches me like a tiger in wait for his leap. When I stood on the horseblock, he half suspected that something was wrong. Nay, check your beast - we must let the animals walk a little, for he is laying his hand on the pommel of his saddle. If he mounts, we are gone. The foot-soldiers could easily reach us with their muskets.

HENRY: What does he now? (reining his horse to a walk, but at the same time pressing his heels into the animals sides , to be in readiness for a spring.)

HARVEY: He turns from his charger and looks the other way; now trot on gently - not so fast - not so fast. Observe the sentinel in the field, a little ahead of us - he eyes us keenly.

HENRY: Never mind the footman, he can do nothing but shoot us - whereas those dragoons may make me captive again. Surely, HARVEY, there are horse moving down the road behind us. Do you see nothing particular?

HARVEY: Humph! there is something particular indeed, to be seen behind the thicket on our left. Turn your head a little, and you may see and profit by it, too.

(HENRY eagerly seizes this permission to look aside, and the blood curdles to his heart as he observes that they are passing a gallows, which unquestionably has been erected for his own execution. He turns his face from the sight, in undisguised horror.)

HARVEY: There is a warning to be prudent.

HENRY: It is a terrific sight, indeed! (veiling his eyes as if to drive a vision from him.)

HARVEY: And yet, Captain WHARTON -

HARVEY: No, Captain WHARTON, you would not spend your last moments alone and unpitied, knowing that none near you so much as think of the fate that is to you the closing of all that is earthly; to think, that in a few hours, you are to be led from the gloom, which as you dwell on what follows, becomes dear to you, to face the day, and there to meet all eyes fixed upon you, as if you were a wild beast; and to lose sight of every thing amidst the jeers and scoffs of your fellow-creatures - that, Captain WHARTON, that is indeed to die.

(Both seem to have forgotten their danger and disguises, as HENRY listens to this utterance with a vehemence altogether new to him.)

HENRY: What! Were you ever so near death as that?

HARVEY: Have I not been the hunted beast of these hills for three years past? Once they even led me to the foot of the gallows itself, and I escaped only by an alarm from the royal troops. Had they been a quarter hour later, I must have died. There was I placed in the midst of unfeeling men, and gaping women and children, as a monster to be cursed.

HARVEY continues: When I would pray to God, my ears were insulted with the history of my crimes; and when, in all that multitude, I looked around for a single face that showed me any pity, I could find none - not even one; all cursed me as wretch who would sell his country for gold. The sun was brighter to my eyes than common, but it was the last time I should see it.

HARVEY continues on: The fields were gay and pleasant, and everything seemed as if this world was a kind of heaven. Oh, how sweet life was to me at that moment! 'Twas a dreadful hour, Captain WHARTON, and such as you have never known. You had friends to feel for you, but I had none but a father to mourn my loss, when he might hear of it; but there was no pity, no consolation to soothe my anguish. Everything seemed to have deserted me. I even thought that HE had forgotten that I lived.

HENRY: What! Did you feel that God had forsaken you?

HARVEY: God never forsakes his servants.

HENRY: Than who did you mean by HE?

(The peddler raises himself in the saddle to the upright posture that suited his outward appearance. The look of fire, that for a short time, appeared on his countenance, disappears in the solemn lines of unbending self-abasement, and speaking as if addressing a negro, -)

HARVEY (as reverend): In heaven there is no distinction of color, my brother, therefore you have a precious charge within you, that you must hereafter render an account of (then dropping his voice) This is the last sentinel near the road; look not back, as you value your life.

(HENRY remembers his situation, and instantly assumes the humble demeanor of his adopted character. The unaccountable energy of the peddler's manner is soon forgotten in the sense of his own immediate danger; and with the recollection of his critical situation, returns all the uneasiness that he had momentarily forgotten.

HENRY: What you see, HARVEY? (observing the peddler gazing toward the building they had left, with ominous interest) what you see at the house?

HARVEY: That which bodes no good to us Throw aside your mask and wig; you will need all your senses without delay; throw them in the road; there are none before us that I dread, but there are those behind who will give us a fearful race!

HENRY: Nay, then, let us improve our time to the utmost. We want a full quarter to the turn; why not push for it, at once?

HARVEY: Be cool; they are in alarm, but they will not mount without an officer, unless they see us fly - now he comes, he moves to the stables; trot briskly; a dozen are in their saddles, but the officer stops to tighten his girths; they hope to steal a march upon us; he is mounted; now RIDE, Captain WHARTON, for your life, and keep at my heels. If you quit me, you will be lost!

(A second request is unnecessary. The instant HARVEY puts his horse to his speed, Capt. WHARTON is at his heels, urging the miserable animal he rides to the utmost. BIRCH had selected his own beast; and although vastly inferior to the high-fed and blooded chargers of the dragoons, still it was much superior to the little pony that had been thought good enough to carry CAESAR THOMPSON on an errand.)

(A very few jumps convinces the Captain that his companion is fast leaving him, and a fearful glance thrown behind, informs the fugitive that his enemies are speedily approaching. HENRY cries aloud to the peddler not to desert him. HARVEY instantly draws up and allows his companion to run alongside of his own horse.)

(The cocked hat and wig of the peddler fell from his hand the moment that his steed began to move briskly, and this change of their disguise is witnessed by the dragoons, who announce their observation by a boisterous shout, that seems to be uttered in the very ears of the fugitives; so loud is the cry, and so short the distance between them.)

HENRY: Had we not better leave our horses? and make for the hills across the fields, on our left? the fence will stop our pursuers.

HARVEY: That way lies the gallows. These fellows go three feet to our two, and would mind the fences no more than we do these ruts; but it is a short quarter to the turn, the there are two roads behind the wood. They may stand to choose until they can take the track, and we shall gain a little upon them there.

HENRY: But this miserable horse is blown already, (urging his beast with the end of his bridle, at the same time that HARVEY aids his efforts by applying the lash of a heavy riding-whip he carries) he will never stand it for a half mile farther.

HARVEY: A quarter will do; a quarter will do, a single quarter will save us, if you follow my directions.

(Somewhat cheered by the cool and confident manner of his companion, HENRY continues silently urging his horse forward. A few moments bring them to the desired turn, and as they double round a point of low under-brush, the fugitives catch a glimpse of their pursuers scattered along the highway. MASON and the sergeant, being better mounted than the rest of the party, are much nearer than even the peddler thought possible.)

(At the foot of the hills, and for some distance up the dark valley that winds among the mountains, a thick underwood of saplings had been suffered to shoot up, where the heavier growth was felled for the sake of the fuel. At the sight of this cover, HENRY again urges the peddler to dismount, and to plunge into the woods; but his request is promptly refused.)

SCENE 86 - Roads leading up into the mountains

(The two roads, HARVEY mentioned, meet at a very sharp angle, at a short distance from the turn, and both are circuitous, so that but little of either can be seen at a time. The peddler takes the one that leads to the left, but holds it only a moment; for, on reaching a partial opening in the thicket, he darts across into the right-hand path, and leads the way up a steep ascent, which lays directly before them. This maneuver saves them.)

(On reaching the fork, the dragoons follow the track, and passed the spot where the fugitives had crossed to the other road, before they miss the marks of the footsteps. Their loud cries are heard by HENRY and the peddler, as their wearied and breathless animals toil up the hill, ordering their comrades in the rear to ride in the right direction. The Captain again proposes to leave their horses and dash into the thicket.)

HARVEY (in a low voice): Not yet; not yet, the road falls from the top of this hill as steep as it rises; first let us gain the top.

(While speaking, they reach the desired summit, and both throw themselves from their horses, HENRY plunging into the thick underwood, which covers the side of the mountain for some distance above them. HARVEY stops to give each of their beasts a few severe blows of his whip, that drives them headlong down the path on the other side of the mountain, then follows HENRY's example.)

(The peddler enters the thicket with a little caution, and avoids, as much as possible, rustling or breaking the branches in his way. There is but time only to shelter his person from view, when a dragoon leads up the ascent; and on reaching the height, he cries aloud -)

DRAGOON: I saw one of their horses turning the hill this minute. 

MASON: Drive on, spur forward, my lads, give the Englishman quarter, but cut down the peddler, and make an end of him.

(HENRY feels his companion grip his arm hard, as he listens in a great tremor to this cry, which is followed by the passage of a dozen horsemen, with a vigor and speed that shows too plainly how little security their over-tired steeds could have afforded them.)

HARVEY (rising from the cover to reconnoiter, and standing for a moment in suspense): Now, - all that we gain is clear gain; for, as we go up, they go down. Let us be stirring.

HENRY: But will they not follow us, and surround this mountain? (rising and imitating the labored but rapid progress of the peddler) remember they have foot as well as horse, and, at any rate, we shall starve in the hills.

HARVEY: Fear nothing, Captain WHARTON, this is not the mountain I would be on, but necessity has made me a dexterous pilot among these hills. I will lead you where no man will dare to follow. See, the sun is already setting behind the tops of the western mountains, and it will be two hours to the rising of the moon. Who, think you, will follow us far, on a November night, among these rocks and precipices?

SCENE 87 - Dusk on the mountain summit

(After rushing along the mountainside near the peak to secure themselves among higher rocky ledges, the pair pauses.)

HENRY: Listen! The dragoons are shouting to each other; they miss us already.

HARVEY: Come to the point of this rock, and you may see them, (composedly seating himself down to rest) Nay, they can see us - observe, they are pointing up with their fingers. There! one has fired his pistol, but the distance is too great even for a musket.

HENRY: They will pursue us, let us be moving.

HARVEY: They will not think of such a thing, (picking chicker-berries that grow on the thin soil where he sits, and very deliberately chewing them, leaves and all, to refresh his mouth) What progress could they make here, in their heavy boots and spurs, and long swords? No - no, they may go back and turn out the foot, but the horse pass through these defiles, when they can keep saddle, with fear and trembling. Come, follow me, Captain WHARTON; we have a trouble-some march before us, but I will bring you where none will think of venturing this night.

(So saying , they both rise, and are soon hidden from view amongst the rocks and caverns of the mountain.

SCENE 88 - Dusk at the bottom of the other side of the mountain where dragoons are conferring

(The conjecture of the peddler is true. MASON and his men dash down the hill. in pursuit, as they suppose, of their victims, but on reaching the bottom lands, they find only the deserted horses of the fugitives. Some little time is spent in examining the woods near them, and in endeavoring to take the trail on such ground as might enable the horse to pursue, when one of the party descries the peddler and HENRY seated on the rock already mentioned.)

MASON: He's off! He's off, and we are disgraced. By heavens, Washington will not trust us with the keeping a suspected tory, if we let the rascal trifle in this manner with the corps; and there sits the Englishman, too, looking down upon us with a smile of benevolence! I fancy that I can see it.

MASON (continuing as though talking to HENRY): Well, well, my lad, you are comfortably seated, I will confess, and that is something better than dancing upon nothing; but you are not to the west of the Harlaem River yet, and I'll try you wind before you tell Sir Henry what you have seen, or I'm no soldier.

SOLDIER (drawing his pistol from the holster): Shall I fire, and frighten the peddler?

MASON: Ay, startle the birds from their perch - let us see how they can use the wing. (The man fires the pistol.) Fore, George, I believe the scoundrels laugh at us. But homeward, or we shall have them rolling stones upon our heads, and the Royal Gazettes teeming with an account of a rebel regiment routed by two loyalists. They have told bigger lies than that before now.

(The dragoons move sullenly after their officer, who rides towards their quarters, musing on the course it behooves him to pursue in the present dilemma.)

SCENE 89 - Twilight outside quarters housing the dragoons

(It is twilight when MASON's party reach the dwelling, before the door of which are collected a great number of the officers and men, busily employed in giving and listening to the most exaggerated accounts of the escape of the spy. The mortified dragoons face their ungrateful tidings with the sullen air of disappointed men; and most of the officers gather round MASON, to consult of the steps that ought to be taken.)

(From the window of the chamber immediately above their heads, Miss PEYTON and FRANCES are breathless and unobserved listeners to all that passes between these men.)

COLONEL (Commanding officer of the regiment which lay encamped before the house): Something must be done, and that speedily. This English officer is doubtless an instrument in the great blow aimed at us by the enemy lately; besides, our honor is involved in his escape.

SEVERAL SOLDIERS: Let us beat the woods! by morning we shall have them both again.

COLONEL: Softly, softly, gentlemen, no man can travel these hills after dark, unless used to the passes. Nothing but horse can do service in this business, and I presume Lt. MASON hesitates to move without the orders of his major.

MASON: I certainly dare not, unless you will take the responsibility of an order; but Major DUNWOODIE will be back again in two hours, and we can carry the tidings trough the hills before daylight; so that by spreading patrols across, from one river to the other, and offering a reward to the country people, their escape will yet be impossible unless they can join the party that is said to be out on the Hudson.

COLONEL: A very plausible plan, and one that must succeed; but let a messenger be dispatched to DUNWOODIE, or he may continue at the ferry until it proves too late; though doubtless the runaways will lie in the mountains tonight.

(To this suggestion MASON acquiesced, and a courier is sent to the Major with the important intelligence of the escape of HENRY, and an intimation of the necessity of his presence to conduct the pursuit. After this arrangement, the officers separated.)

SCENE 90 - At dusk in the room of Miss PEYTON

(When Miss PEYTON and her niece first learn of the escape of Captain WHARTON, it is with difficulty they can credit their senses. They relied so implicitly on success of DUNWOODIE's exertions, that they think the act, on the part of their relative, extremely imprudent; but it is now too late to mend it.)

(While listening to the conversations of the officers, both are struck with the increased danger of HENRY's situation, if re-captured, and they tremble to think of the great exertions that will be made to accomplish this object.)

(Miss PEYTON consoles herself and endeavors to cheer her niece, with the probability that the fugitives will pursue their course with unremitting diligence, so that they might reach the Neutral Ground before the horse will carry down the tidings of their flight.)

(The absence of DUNWOODIE seems to her all-important, and the artless lady is anxiously devising some project that might detain her kinsman, and thus give her nephew the longest possible time. But very different are the reflections of FRANCES.)

(She can no longer doubt that the figure she had seen on the hill was BIRCH, and she feels certain that, instead of flying to the friendly forces below, her brother will be taken to the mysterious hut to pass the night. She and her aunt hold a long and animated discussion by themselves, with FRANCES revealing her suspicions.)

(Finally the good spinster reluctantly yields to the pleas of her niece, and folding her in her arms, she kisses her cold cheek, and , fervently blessing her, allows her to depart on this treacherous errand of fraternal love.)