In the Camp of Cornwallis: Being the Story of Reuben Denton and His Experiences During the New ...
riLiJt:: •' /'■ :< ri Lv 1 :_i In the Camp of Cornwallis The Story of Reuben Denton and his Experiences during the New Jersey Campaign of //// EVERETT T. TOMLINSON 1 Wrm IixusTRATioKS BY Charles Copelakd ^' V New York GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY 768053A ASTOR, L£KOX AND iTULDJEld FO.u:i«DAaiON«:l Cofyrighi, iqoa. By W. A, Wilde Company. All rights reserved. In the Camp of Cornwallis, • • • « »  Preface ** This campaign has attracted far less attention than it deserves, mainly, no doubt, because it contained no battles or other striking incidents. It was purely a series of strategic devices. But in point of military skill it was, perhaps, as remarkable as anything that Washington ever did, and it certainly occupies a cardi- nal position in the history of the overthrow of Bur- goyne. For if Howe had been able to take Philadelphia early in the summer (1777), it is difficult to see what could have prevented him from returning and ascend- ing the Hudson, in accordance with the plan of the ministry." — John Fiske, TAe American Revolution^ Volume I, page 317. In this tale I have endeavored to afford my young readers a glimpse into the trying days of 1777. Many cc of the incidents which have been incorporated in this % book are true, and are recorded in the earlier histories. il If, through the interest in the story, the young people %3 may be led to make further investigations of their own 5 * 6 PREFACE in this part of our national history, and shall come to appreciate the strength of character and power of con- viction then displayed by the men whom all the world now honors, the writer of this story will feel that his labor has not been in vain. 4 EVERETT T. TOMUNSON. EuzABETH, New Jersey. Contents CHAPTBS rAGB I. Times of Trouble ii II. Uncle Philemon 21 III. Lost Possessions 33 IV. The Race 44 V. A Fruitless Quest 53 VI. In the Camp 64 VII. The March in the Night .... 74 VIII. Uncle Philemon^s Ghosts .... 85 IX. At the Covered Bridge 97 X. An Unlooked-for Meeting . • . .108 XI. A Journey 118 XII. A Reprisal 129 XIII. Washington's Rock 139 XIV. Again at the Covered Bridge . . . 149 XV. In the Old Schoolhouse 160 XVI. A Discovery 171 XVII. Hannah Coddington's Prisoner . . .182 XVIII. What happened in the Old Bridge . . 192 XIX. To Brunswick 204 7 8 CONTENTS CHAPTBR XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. With the Prisoners. The Fate of Abraham Patten The Brunswick Jail. A Visitor .... Applejack and Laudanum In Albany Street. The Wood-chopper. On the Way To THE Covered Bridge Once The Advance In and out of the Camps The End of the Campaign The Feelings of the People More PAGS 215 226 248 259 270 281 292 3H 326 337 347 In the Camp of Cornwallis CHAPTER I TIMES OF TROUBLE " T KNEW I could step on the head of my shadow, -^ and 'twas high time I heard that call." Faint and indistinct the musical notes of a conch shell had come across the meadow lands, and, pene- trating the shadows of the " openings " where Reuben Denton was at work, had caused him to swing his axe over his shoulder, and, with a smile on his face and a sturdy stride of his muscular body, to set forth on his return to his father's house, a full half-mile away, for the dinner hour had come and he was ready for its coming. Since sunrise Reuben had been following the line of fence that marked the boundaries of the farm, and had been strengthening a stake or replacing a missing rail with a sapling which his axe enabled him to cut from the growth near by. For the three cows and the two "three-year-old" colts, all that remained of the stock that belonged to the II 12 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS place only two years before this time, had been turned out to pasture the preceding day, and, with the perversity that is more or less inherent in all created things, had not been content to remain within the confines of the land that extended along the banks of the river, where already the grass was growing rank and thick, but had broken a way through the fences where a bank of snow or a wintry wind had made a partial opening, and tempted the cattle to seek pastures new in the fond belief that the new must necessarily be the better. While Cato, the oldest of the negroes on the Denton farm, had gone to search for the stragglers, Reuben at the same time had taken his axe, and all the fore- noon had been busily repairing the places where the cattle might be able to find other weak spots in the confines of the fields. For there was special need of caution, now that the regulars were in Brunswick on one side, and at Bound Brook, about as far distant on the other, was a force of Continentals, the uttermost outposts of the main body which throughout the winter had been encamped at Morristown. With the coming of spring there were prospects of renewed activity in both camps, and stragglers and foraging parties from either army were not wont to inquire too closely into the ownership of stray cattle. It therefore behooved the Jersey farmers to look well to their possessions, and Reuben Denton had just been TIMES OF TROUBLE 13 doing what many another lusty farmer lad in the vicinity was also striving to do. As he came out from the openings, he halted for a moment as he gained the summit of a knoll and gazed about him. The songs of the birds that had already returned — for the spring was unusually "early" — filled the air that was fragrant with the breath of woods and fields. The light of the sun, now almost directly over his head, was mellow and warm. Trees were begin- ning to don their summer suits of green, and the wil- lows that grew thick along parts of the shore of the Raritan were already clothed in their soft summer garb. The river itself, its banks well filled by the recent spring rains, as it curved and wound on its way around the wooded shores, flashed like a band of silver and added greatly to the beauty of the landscape. Not far away he could discern the comfortable buildings that belonged to his father, the little huts occupied by the negroes, and the barns all glistening in the sunlight in their fresh coats of whitewash, and even the fences that enclosed the barnyards, all standing spotless in their appearance, for they too had received their annual coat Quiet and peace rested over the low hillsides and the fertile valley, and as Reuben Denton gazed about him the beauty of it all impressed him afresh, for he was a boy to whom the coyntry life was a perpetual source of delight. It was only four years before this spring of 1777 14 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS when the Denton family had purchased this land and removed from New York, where the population was becoming so dense that Mr. Denton had declared he could endure it no longer. He did not object to neigh- bors or to being neighborly, he explained, but when it came to pass that he was compelled to hear the re- marks of others at their own firesides, and he was not certain but his own secret thoughts, even, might be overheard by the occupants of the adjoining house, it was high time to move out. When it is known that New York at that time contained hardly twenty thou- sand inhabitants, the fear of the sturdy colonial .seems not to have been entirely without foundation. At all events, the family belongings had been packed on board a schooner at the foot of Whitehall, and the voyage through Amboy Bay and up the winding Raritan had been successfully made, and for four years Reuben Denton now had been dwelling on the banks of the beautiful river. In the winter he had gone, with his two elder brothers, to the grammar school of Queen's College in Brunswick town, and though some of the Dutch lads had continued to be as much strangers to him after months of daily classwork done for the "Rector," or Dominie, as they had been at the beginning, neverthe- less he had made good progress in his studies and likewise some friends in the quaint town, as it was even in these far-away days of the Revolution. TIMES OF TROUBLE 15 But the summer days had been those m which his greatest pleasure was found. He toiled in the fields, and helped to harvest the crops, but the labor was never severe, and there was always ample opportunity for sailing or fishing on the Raritan, or for sport with his gun in the sombre forests that then abounded. And as the summers and autumns passed, it was a delight to the elder Dentons to mark the steady growth and increase in the strength of Reuben. All the fears his mother had had for him in his childhood — for he had been a delicate lad — were gone now, and his broad shoulders and springing step betokened health and strength as well as youth. Indeed, there were few lads of his age, now that he was seventeen, who cared to test his strength in a wrestling bout or pull upon the oars. Fair-haired, blue-eyed, with a countenance that showed a kindly feeling as well as strength, Reuben Denton, as he stood for the moment upon the summit of the knoll and looked out over the beautiful scene before him, was himself no small part of the sight, or at' least he would have been to any one who might have chanced to see him in the sunshine of the mild spring day. " Cato has found the cattle, but the colts are gone," said his father, when Reuben joined the family at the dinner table. "Which means that you want me to go and look them up, I suppose/' laughed Reuben, in response. i6 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS "Yes, Reuben, that's just what your father wants," said his mother, quietly. " He goes to Bound Brook with me." Reuben looked up quickly as his mother spoke, for his two elder brothers, Robert and Philip, were in the camp there, and a visit to the place was always an event in the family life, in spite of the nearness of the little force. Mrs. Denton smiled, as she continued; '* I want to see them again, for they may soon leave the camp at Bound Brook, and as they can't come to me, I must go to them." Mrs. Denton spoke quietly, but Reuben and the three younger children about the table, as well as the father himself, well knew what that quiet manner in the mother betokened. " Is there any news ? " inquired Reuben, eagerly. "Not a thing," said his father, quickly. "Both armies stand off and crow at each other like two roos- ters, and, for my part, I shan't be broken-hearted if they'll keep it up all summer ; that is, if they'll leave me and my place alone. Some seem to think this matter of calling names and shaking fists is war. Well, mayhap it is, but if Robert and Phil were only at home, I'd be content to let the war go on forever, if that was all there was to be to it." " That isn't all there is to be to it," said Mrs. Denton, quietly. "Well, why don't they do something then, and let TIMES OF TROUBLE 17 Bob and Phil come back home where they belong? Here's all our spring work to be done, and nobody knows how soon the redcoats at Brunswick may take it into their heads to come out here and seize everything we own." " There won't be any use in doing the spring work if that's to be the end." " Yes, but I need both the boys at home. General Washington told me it was all right for me to be a neu- tral, for I asked him myself. But it's hard work to persuade some of these redcoats at Brunswick that I really am a neutral when my two boys are in Maxwell's force. It's a hard place to put a man in." "There are other hard places, too," said his wife, quietly. " We've all of us got to do the best we can, I think, wherever we are, till the end comes." " There won't be any end. It'll be just like it is up at Uncle Philemon's house, a war all the time — with words anyway. By the way, Reuben, you'd better stop and get Uncle Philemon to go with you and help you look up those colts." " I shan't need him, I'm sure. The colts can't be far away." "I'd stop for him if I were you," said his mother, gently, and Reuben made no further protest. To his mother he gave a love and respect that were as rare as they were beautiful. She it was who always understood him and appealed to the best that was in i8 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS him. It mattered not whether it was in his school work, his games, or in his tasks on the farm, it was her word that calmed or inspired him, and it was to her he turned with a freedom that was rare in those days when children were taught, first of all, that their place was not foremost even in the circle of the home. It was his mother who had encouraged his brothers to enter the army; and though his father had queru- lously protested, the boys had nevertheless quietly obeyed their mother's words, confident that it was her way, and therefore must be right. As for Mr. Denton, the father, a long illness several years before this time, had left him in a state of ner- vous collapse, from which he had not as yet recovered. At least, his faithful wife declared that the illness was the cause of his present condition, and as even the older children had no recollection of any previous state or condition, no member of the family was inclined to dispute or even to disbelieve the word of the mother, who they all knew was to be trusted implicitly. Nevertheless, the attitude of Mr. Denton was one that was sadly perplexing to Reuben. There were days when his father, to all appearances, would be heartily in accord with Robert and Philip, and his heart would respond to the silent appeals of the struggling colonists. At such time, Reuben, who had all of a younger brother's confidence in an elder brother's actions, would feel his heart swell up with pride, and TIMES OF TROUBLE 19 he would even venture to declare that he would soon join Bob and Phil, and be a Continental himself. Then the mood of his father would suddenly change, and he would bemoan the uselessness of the struggle and the certain ruin that would speedily overwhelm all. " They were all a pack of lunatics or worse," he would declare petulantly, "and any one with half an eye could see that starvation was right before them." Whether it was Reuben's incredulity as to the seeing power of any one with but " half an eye," or the calm, quiet patriotism of his mother, he did not understand ; but his own intense feeling for the cause in which his two brothers had entered, and that absorbed so much of his mother's thought and time, never wavered, and though he had not secured the consent to join his brothers in the camp, he was none the less interested in the struggle, and the very fact that forces from each of the two contending armies were now so near his home, naturally tended to increase the feeling he already had. At all events, when, after the departure of his father and mother for Bound Brook, he himself started for the abode of Uncle Philemon, the strange, unaccountable old man who dwelt with an aged sister in a little hut in the woods about a half-mile back from the road, near the Denton homestead, his thoughts were far more of the tents and huts, the drums and fifes, the uniforms and guns, of the soldiers with General Maxwell, than 20 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS they were of the two missing colts. But before the night fell» even the camp of the hardy soldiers, and the strange actions of Uncle Philemon, who on that day was unusually " odd " in his words and manner, were forgotten in the greater excitement that soon possessed the heart of Reuben Denton. CHAPTER II UNCLE PHILEMON *'T TNCLE PHILEMON," as has been hinted in the ^ preceding chapter, was one of the "characters" of the region in which Reuben Denton had bis home in the trying times of the Revolution. He was a man at least sixty years of age, bent, and misshapen, his long body appearing decidedly lank in the strange clothing he wore, his long, protruding, un- shaven jaw imparting a peculiar aspect to his face, a peculiarity which was intensified by the dark, shaggy eyebrows, which protruded far over his deep-set, pierc- ing, black eyes. His garb was as peculiar as his face and form, for with an utter disregard of the fashions of his times, his clothing was made by his sister Nancy; and skins of wild beasts, and the wool and flax which their own possessions afforded, were strangely mixed in the composition. A huge cap, made of skins, from which a long, bushy tail hung down over his shoulders, increased the strangeness of his appearance, and made him a man whose name and garb were well known throughout the region. 21 32 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS His manner and words were, however, as peculiar as his personal appearance, and Uncle Philemon never took any pains to correct or change the impression which he was well aware his coming always produced. Harmless he was, and gentle in his disposition, but with all the tenacity of his might, mind, and strength he clung to his belief in the virtue and value of certain signs and superstitions. Ghosts were his special delight, and witches and hob- goblins his familiar friends. No story, however improb- able in itself, seemed to stagger his credulous mind, except that of the earth turning on its axis, or sweeping forward on its orbit. A reference to this theory always brought a snort of disgust from Uncle Philemon, who required nothing more than the evidence of his own eyes to convince him that the sun every day rose above the woods behind his cabin, and every night disap- peared from sight in the woods on the farther side of the Raritan. " Book larnin' '* was his particular object of contempt, and he was ever free to express his opinion of those who accepted the opinions of scholars committed to print. As he himself could neither read nor write, there was no method by which his prejudice could be overcome, and accordingly, Uncle Philemon was undis- turbed by any of the wiser people of the neighborhood. Among the negroes he was an object of veneration, and many a slave sought his lonely abode in the night- UNCLE PHILEMON 23 time, to secure a charm to keep off the evil spirits, or the interpretation of a dream which had troubled the sleep of the dusky servant. Wild-eyed, and with chat- tering teeth, the slaves left Uncle Philemon's abode to return to their own quarters, but the fascination of his " tokens " and interpretations remained unbroken. Even the white boys, who played many a prank upon the credulous Philemon, were nevertheless somewhat in awe of him, and after listening to his weird tales of a summer evening, would return to their homes with strange tremors creeping up and down their backs, in spite of their noisy attempts to laugh at the tales they had heard, or the whistling in which they indulged, in passing some graveyard or lonely spot, to keep up their courage. But Mr. Denton had understood thoroughly the value of Uncle Philemon's knowledge of woodcraft when he had directed Reuben to seek his aid in searching for the lost horses, and even Reuben himself, in spite of his boyish confidence in his own superior knowledge, was in no wise averse to receiving the assistance which the strange man might be able to afford him. Accordingly, when he approached the log hut in which Uncle Philemon and his sister dwelt, he was rejoiced to see the dogs about the yard, for he was instantly aware that the man he was seeking was at home. The low growls of the dogs ceased as soon as they perceived who the newcomer was, for Reuben was well 24 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS known to all the inhabitants of the place ; and in a moment Uncle Philemon himself appeared in the doorway. " Good day to you, Uncle Philemon," called Reuben, cheerily, as he drew near. " How are you and Aunt Nancy this afternoon ? " No reply was given to the friendly greeting, but the expression in the man's eyes showed Reuben that he was welcome, and he at once entered the house. "There! you touched me," said Uncle Philemon, sharply, as Reuben took from his hand the low wooden chair he held forth to his visitor. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," said the old man, quickly, and at the same time he turned himself three times quickly about; "maybe that'll fix it, but I'm afraid not." "Why, what's wrong.? What have I done.?" in- quired Reuben, blankly. " You touched me, and I never have any luck when anybody touches me, when he comes for me to go out along with him. Maybe I've broken the spell, for I counted ten and turned round three times before ye spoke." " I hope so," said Reuben, with a laugh. " But how did you know I had come for you to go anywhere with me .? " " I dreamed it last night. I dreamed I met ye over at Brunswick, and that meant that you'd come for me or meet me to-day." UNCLE PHILEMON 25 " Well, I'm glad you were expecting me, for there's nothing like being all ready. Father wanted me to stop here and get you to go with me to look up our two colts. They got out last night, and we can't find them." "Yes, I'll go with ye," responded Uncle Philemon. " Just wait for me to change my shoes, and I'll be all ready. We'd never find anything if I wore these moccasins." "All right, I'm glad there's nothing else to wait for. It's better luck than I expected." In a brief time Uncle Philemon returned to the room, and as Reuben glanced at his feet he noticed that the moccasins, or shoes, which the old man had donned were fastened by buckles that were quaint and new to him. The buckles were of silver, nearly square in shape, and evidently had some strange figures or devices stamped upon them. They were also highly polished, and showed evidences of great and recent care. " What are those buckles you have. Uncle Philemon ? " inquired Reuben, aware that the question would please the old man as well as satisfy his own curiosity. "Cob dollars." "Cob dollars.^ What are they.' I never heard of that kind of dollars before." " Likely not, likely not," responded Uncle Philemon, complacently. «6 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS " But what are they ? " "Cob dollars. Isn't your hearing good? That's what I said." " I don't know what cob dollars are, though. What are they ? " " Come on, and I'll tell you while we're on our way. If we're going to find these horses, we'd better be about it." Uncle Philemon donned his strange head-gear, and after a word with Aunt Nancy, Reuben quickly followed him. "We'd better go to the place where ye saw their tracks," said Uncle Philemon, after they had walked in silence for a brief time. " I s'pose ye took notice o' where they got out ? " " Yes ; I could follow the tracks for a little way, but then they dropped out of sight. I don't see where they could have gone." "Likely not Likely not. Cob dollars, as I was sayin' when ye interrupted me back there, is — is — why they're jest cob dollars, and that's all there is to 'em. Cob dollars is jest cob dollars." "Oh, I'm glad you told me. Thank you! Thank you ! " laughed Reuben. " 'Long back in 1670 the Indians sold a great chunk o' land down here in Monmouth county for a barrel o' cider, and then the most o' 'em cleared out and left the region, for the Indian is a very per-cnliar bein'. He sticks to his word when he's given it, but he's only UNCLE PHILEMON 2^ a savage an' uncivilized. When he gets civilized mebbe he'll learn to lie, same as these civilized white folks do over at Brunswick. "Well, the Indians all stuck to their bargain an' left the land they'd sold, that is, all except one chap by the name o' Indian Will. He was a/^r-culiar man, an' took a notion that a barrel o' cider for six thousand or more acres o' land wasn't any bargain at all ; and he said he was goin' to stay where his forefathers had lived before him, cider or no cider." "Perhaps he didn't get his share of the cider," suggested Reuben. "The white folks didn't mind his stayin' there," resumed Uncle Philemon, disregarding the interruption, "but his own tribe couldn't stand it nohow. They claimed that every one o' their folks was honest, an' if Indian Will wouldn't live up to th' agreement, then he shouldn't live at all. So they sent some o' their best warriors to kill him, but it didn't do any good, for Indian Will was too much for 'em every time, and after he'd killed six or eight o' 'em — in self-defence, mark ye — they gave it up, an' he was 'lowed to live on in peace. Well, he lived in peace, but he lived on the settlers. " One mornin' he was eatin' breakfast at a Mr. Eaton's — he had suppawn and milk for his breakfast, an' he was eatin' it with a silver spoon — an' when he'd had all he wanted, he held up the spoon and told Mis' Eaton 28 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS he knew where there was a lot more just like it. She didn't pay much 'tention to what he was sayin', but her husband, he followed it up an' one day went with Indian Will and began to dig where the Indian told him to, and, sure enough, they dug up a box full o' cob dollars, every one o' 'em silver, an' just like these o* mine." " Is that really a true story ? " " True ? Course it's true ! The Indians told me all about it." " Did Indian Will get any of the money ? " " Not a bit. Not a bit. They give him a red coat an' a cocked hat." Reuben laughed as he said, "Probably he was satisfied." " Prob'ly he was, or he wouldn't have done it. The money wasn't any good to him, an', besides, 'twould have brought him bad luck." " Why ? " " 'Twas some o' Captain Kidd's money, that's what it was," said the old man, solemnly. " He buried a lot o' chests full o' it all along the Jersey shore." " How do you dare have any of it, then i " " I use 'em as buckles, and they help me to find lost things. Nobody can keep that money in his breeches' pockets. He loses it every time." As Reuben marked the peculiar shape and sharp corners of the coins, he had no difficulty in understand- ii UNCLE PHILEMON 29 ing that they would probably wear a hole, even in the strongest of leather pockets. But Uncle Philemon doubtless had never attributed the inability of their pos- sessors to retain them to any such cause as that. " Uncle Philemon, you lived with the Indians a long time yourself, didn't you f " Twenty-one years." Was it as long as that ? Tell me about it." '' It was a long time ago, and I don't much like to speak of it My mother and I — I was only about five years old at the time — was both took prisoners, and after they'd done killin' the white folks where we lived, they started off with us. My mother could understand the Indian talk, an' she heard 'em say they was goin' to kill her an' keep me. So she told me what she'd heard, and told me not to cry or take on if they did, or they would kill me, too." " Did they kill her ? " inquired Reuben, softly. " Yes. We hadn't gone but a few rods, after she said that, before one of the Indians killed her with his toma- hawk, and when they got to their village one of the squaws 'dopted me in place of the boy she'd lost a few days before. I was there for twenty-one years, and when at last I came back among the white folks, I was more Indian than I was white. It was hard work for me to get used to white folks' ways, and I can't say I like *em very much even now." The story of Uncle Philemon's capture and adoption 30 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS by the Indians was well known to the Jersey people, and to that was attributed many of the superstitious beliefs to which he clung so tenaciously. "I should think you'd hate the Indians," said Reuben, sharply. " They have their good points and their bad points, same's other folks. Here's where the tracks end, I take it," said Uncle Philemon, sharply, as if he wished to end the conversation. " Yes," replied Reuben. "I can't find a trace of them anywhere beyond." " Likely not. Likely not" Uncle Philemon cut a twig from a near-by hazel bush, and after muttering various incantations over it, cast it into a little spring, whose waters bubbled forth from the ground at their feet. Kneeling for a moment in silence, he watched its movements, and then rising once more to his feet, said, "We'll find the horses right over yonder," and he pointed as he spoke toward the south. " Come on, then," responded Reuben, quickly. "We may be able to find them and get back home before dark." For a brief time they walked rapidly and silently in the direction indicated by the older man. Suddenly Uncle Philemon halted, and said in a whis- per, " I'm not going any farther. There's a white man following us." UNCLE PHILEMON 31 " How do you know ? " said Reuben, in a whisper. "Where is he? I don't see any one." " I've seen him, and that's enough." "But that's no reason why we should turn back." " Yes it is. He's crossed our tracks and our luck's gone." " Never mind the luck. We can try, anyway." But Uncle Philemon made no response. He turned quickly about in the woods, and almost before Reuben realized that he was gone, he had disappeared from sight among the great trees. The first impulse in Reuben's mind was to run after him and compel him to return, but a brief reflection caused him to abandon the project. Well aware of Uncle Philemon's firm belief in the " signs " which he had declared to be unfavorable, he also knew that the old man would not swerve from his purpose. For a moment Reuben hesitated. The flickering lights among the shadows of the giant trees proclaimed that the sun would soon be gone. Already there was a sighing among the branches that emphasized the loneliness of the place. When darkness should fall he would not care to be alone and unarmed in the woods ; but he had come to search for the missing horses, and it would not do for him to abandon the attempt on such a slight excuse as that Uncle Philemon had left him alone in the labor. St IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS He was inclined to laugh at the old man's fears, and yet he was ang^ at him for his childishness. Suddenly a strange, weird cry rose in the midst of the stillness, and Reuben, startled for the moment, quickly recovered himself and began to run swiftly through the forest CHAPTER III LOST POSSESSIONS TT was the shrill whinny of a horse that had startled ^ Reuben Denton, and as he paused for a moment and listened intently, a sharp response was heard coming from the same direction from which the first had been heard. Indeed, if Reuben had not been so surprised at the unexpected sound, he might have perceived that the responses evidently came from more than one horse ; but in his excitement he had not waited to consider, but had begun to run eagerly in the direction from which the call had come, satisfied that now he was near the object of his search. In his haste he stumbled once over a fallen tree and was thrown headlong upon the ground, but hastily scrambling to his feet, he rushed on, intent only upon finding the colts before they could withdraw farther into the forest. So eager was he that he was unmind- ful of all else, and when he suddenly came upon the object of his search, he stopped short and gazed before him as if he could not trust the evidences of his own eyes. 33 34 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS The missing horses were before him, and he could easily see them, but they were not alone. Within an enclosure, which had been formed by a fence of small saplings, he saw at least twenty horses, and on the farther side he perceived two men, who were talking earnestly together. In the deepening dusk he had no diflRculty in recog- nizing one of the men as Stephen Carle, a worthless fellow who had been well known in the region for several years ; but his companion was a stranger to Reuben. In spite of his astonishment at the sight before him, Reuben quickly stepped behind a tree, not knowing whether or not his coming had been discovered by the men. His heart was thumping so loudly against his sides that it seemed to him that it must betray him, and his breathing was so labored that it seemed for a moment as if he must cry out. When a few moments had elapsed it became apparent that he had not been seen by either of the men, and, somewhat calmer, Reuben began to think over the problem that now presented itself to him. His first impulse had been to rush in and demand the immediate return of his horses, but even a brief reflection had enabled him to perceive that such a course would not only be perilous to himself, but that he would also be less likely to gain the object for which he had come. That twenty horses should be huddled together within LOST POSSESSIONS 35 one enclosure, and that a secluded spot within the forest, was plainly not the result of chance. Stories of the thefts of cattle and horses from the Jersey farmers flashed into his mind, and he recalled the numerous losses which some of his own neighbors had sustained. Tories had declared that the Whigs had stolen their property, and on the other hand the Whigs, angry over their own losses, had charged the Tories with being the cause; but the sole result had been that the steadily rising rage of the people had been increased, and yet the lost horses had not been restored. But here, directly before him, Reuben could perceive two men, one of whom, at least, was not openly identified with either side in the struggle, and was doubtless willing to profit from both. There had been rumors of horses being transported down the Raritan in flat boats by night, and the destina- tion was said to be the quarters of the redcoats in New York, or the camps of the Hessians or British in New Jersey. That the reports were founded upon fact Reuben had no difficulty in believing, as he watched the men before him. But what could he do.? Prudence dictated that it would be wiser, as well as safer, for him, now that he was positive his presence was unknown, to withdraw silently from the place and return with all possible haste to his home. If his father had retiuned from Bound Brook, as 36 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS without doubt he had by this time, then some of the neighbors might be quickly assembled, and they could come to the place where the horses were, and force- fully demand the restoration of their own. But such a course of action would require several hours, at best, for its completion, and meanwhile the men might drive their stolen possessions to the river and embark them all on the boat, which doubtless was somewhere waiting on the Raritan for their coming. While Reuben hesitated he could hear the voices of the men in conversation and occasionally distinguish their words. The suggestion occurred to him that they might even now be talking over their plan of action, and suddenly he resolved to creep around to the side of the corral on which the men were standing, and endeavor to hear what they were saying. The twilight had disappeared by this time, and the deepening dusk favored his project, so quitting his shelter, Reuben cautiously and slowly withdrew into the woods behind him. He stepped from tree to tree and frequently stopped to listen, but the deep silence was unbroken ; and when at last he knew that he was far enough from the spot to enable him to move without fear of being overheard, he began to run swiftly, making a wide detour to enable him to approach again from the side on which the men had been standing. Then, again, he became more cautious and stepped softly, fearful that some snapping branch or twig on LOST POSSESSIONS 37 which, despite his efforts, he occasionally trod, would reveal his presence to the men of whom he naturally stood in great fear. At last he could perceive the dim forms of the men before him, and soon as he dropped upon his knees and peered out from behind the shelter of the huge oak he had sought as his last and safest hiding-place, he was rejoiced to perceive that he could hear distinctly what was said by the men. "I tell you, Steve," the stranger was saying, "it'll not do to wait any longer. You say this Philemon you saw was not alone, and before we know it they'll have the whole neighborhood after us." "Yes, he wasn't alone," replied Stephen, "but 'twas only Reube Denton with him. He's nothing but a boy, and we needn't be afraid of him." Reuben's cheeks flushed in the darkness as he heard the reference to himself, and despite his approving con- science, he had no difficulty in verifying] the old adage that "listeners seldom hear any good of themselves." But his thoughts were all centred upon what the men were saying, and consequently he did not stop to muse over his own injured feelings. " That's nothin' to do with it," the stranger retorted. " You say you saw the old man go back, but you didn't see the boy leave. He may be hereabouts now." " No fear of that. I wish he would stay all night in the woods. 'Twould be better for us if he did," 38 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS " Pree-cisely. But the chances are ten to one that he went back with the old man, and before we know it, we'll have a hornet's nest stirred up." "Well, what's to be done? I'd like to wait till to-morrow night, for we might get four or five more horses by that time, and that wouldn't add as much to our load as it would to our pockets." "That's right enough, but my 'pinion is that we'd better clear out this very night and not take any more chances. We may lose all we've got, and get ourselves strung up by the neck into the bargain." " Is the boat all ready ? " " Yes, I was there this afternoon, and Tom told me he'd be ready to put out on an hour's notice." "Well, I reckon you'd better ride over and tell him that we'll be with him about midnight. But you'd better bring a couple o' men back with you to help manage the horses. It'll take considerable steering to get the whole twenty o' 'em down t' the river without some o' 'em breaking away or making a racket that'll call out all the men in the neighborhood." " I'll go right away. I'll be back, Steve, by eleven o'clock at the latest." The stranger instantly arose, and bridling one of the horses, at once departed from the place, passing, as he went, so near to the place where Reuben was concealed that the lad each moment expected that his presence would be discovered. However, the man was so evi- LOST POSSESSIONS 39 dently intent upon his errand that he gave little heed to anything else, and soon disappeared from sight. Meanwhile, Stephen Carle lighted his pipe, and seating himself on a board at the foot of a huge tree, leaned back, and calmly regarded the horses before him. Reuben watched him with a fascination that was in* tense. Now he knew what the loss of the colts meant. They had not strayed from the pasture at all, but, with- out doubt, had been led away by the two thieves. A sudden feeling of rage rose in his heart, and he was strongly tempted to step forth from his hiding- place and charge Stephen with his crime, and demand the return of the stolen property. In his anger he felt almost equal to the contest which might follow, but a brief reflection enabled him to perceive the folly of any such course. The man was stronger than he, and, besides, was armed and desperate. And yet, as he watched him, Reuben's feeling of anger became more intense with every passing moment. His very helpless- ness increased his rage. To lose the horses was bad enough of itself, but to know that their price when they were sold was to be received by thieves, and the beasts themselves turned over to the use of the redcoats, was adding insult to injury. Meanwhile, Stephen Carle smoked on until his pipe burned out, and then his head began to nod, and Reuben could soon see that the man was asleep. Suddenly he 40 IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS thought of a plan by which he might yet recover the horses. Glancing keenly at Stephen, and perceiving that he doubtless was asleep, he quietly arose, and swiftly and silently drew back among the trees. Once safely beyond the hearing of the man, he began to run, and once more circling the corral, he returned to the place where he had first approached it. The fence itself was a very light affair, consisting only of saplings, placed singly upon stakes, driven at frequent intervals into the ground. To these saplings the horses had been tied, and all stood with their heads facing the outer part of the enclosure. Passing quietly from one to another, the horses look- ing up in surprise or glancing curiously at the intruder, a few emitting a low whinny, much to Reuben's alarm, he began his search for his own colts. That they would recognize him he knew, for they were gentle, and had been petted by all the members of the Denton household. His main fear now was that they might be tied so near the sleeping Stephen that he might not be able to approach them without rousing him. He passed cautiously nearly half-way around the enclosure, but his own horses had not been found. He dared not move any farther in that direction, for he must approach nearer than he dared to the sleeping man. So, carefully retracing his way, he began his search on the other side, and still the missing horses could not be found. 