The Young Continentals at Trenton

George learned that the Hawksworths, with whom Peggy was staying, were an English family who owned vast acreages in the Jerseys; the head of the house was the younger son of a duke, his wife the daughter of a viscount; and their connections were extremely fashionable. They resided in a fine brick mansion in the best section; and because of their high estate and the fact that they quartered a lieutenant-general, they had a brace of pigtailed Hessians constantly on guard at their front door.

Once or twice, George’s affairs had taken him by the house, and he found it quite as compelling as the one in Crown Street, New York. But he never saw Peggy. As a matter of fact, he made no especial effort to see her; he felt that he was upon urgent business for headquarters, and that it was his place not to attract any more attention than was necessary.

But now that Nat had safely carried their harvest of news across the river, the boy considered himself more of a free agent than before; and his own affairs came uppermost in his mind.

“Peggy Camp has held me up to contempt, insulted me to my face and even tried to take my life,” he told himself. “And yet I want to see her. I want to see her just once. I want to tell her how I regard her, and then I want to see no more of her.”

But for a person dressed as he was to gain admittance to one under the care of the aristocratic Hawksworths was clearly impossible; and so he sought a tailor, a hair-dresser and a haberdasher; emerging from their hands, he was spick and span and eligible for any company. And, also, which came as an afterthought, he was open to detection. No doubt there were numerous New York king’s men in Trenton upon various errands connected with the service; and some of these who had seen him there would know him for what he was.

“But I’ll take the chance,” he muttered; “nothing is gained except by venturing. A bold manner will win me a way, perhaps, even if any one should recall me.”

So he sought out an inn which was patronized by persons of quality, and calmly installed himself therein; there were many officers of Rahl’s brigade quartered there, but that made little difference; the nearer to the danger mark at times, the safer one may feel.

The inn was directly across the way from Rahl’s headquarters; from his windows the young New Englander could see the sentries pacing up and down; the half circle of cannon grinned grimly down each street that led thereto.

George had not been a guest at the inn more than a day or two when he noticed that the sound of music was almost constant at headquarters. The landlord, a Tory, made a wry face when George mentioned the matter.

“Rahl is a madman for melody,” said he. “No matter what else is toward, his concerts must not be interfered with; he’ll sit for hours before the fire, beating time with his fingers. The best fed men in his army are the musicians. As for me, I wish they’d choke themselves with their own bugles and fifes; one can’t get a wink of sleep at times for their blowing and braying.”

It wanted only a little time now until Christmas. This has always been a festival greatly in favor with the Germans. The plundered countryside suffered more than ever; the mercenaries made a clean sweep of what was left; nothing escaped them; sleigh train after sleigh train entered Trenton from all directions; herd after herd of sheep, swine and beef were driven over the snowy roads.

And the more deeply engaged the Hessians became in these preparations for the festival, the less attention they gave to duty. Neglect of even the simplest military precautions became common; one unacquainted with the real conditions would have said, upon observing their indifference, that there was not an enemy within five hundred miles.

“If it were not for the river,” said George to himself time and again, “Washington would need only make a swift dash and the town would be his.”

But that even the ice-choked river had no terrors for the American commander was soon made plain to the boy. He had just finished his noonday meal and arisen to his feet when he heard a guarded voice say in his ear:

“Guess you ain’t no friend to Mistah Brewstah?”

It was a black boy, woolly-headed and with solemn eyes.

“I am,” replied George, in the same low tone.

“Would you ’blige me wif you name, suh?” The black boy was caution itself. George told him his name, and the solemn eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

“Das it, sho’ ’nuff,” he said. Then lower still, “I got a lil’ bit o’ writin’ fo’ yo’, suh.”

A strip of paper was slipped into the young man’s hand. It read:

“Crossing Christmas night. Fire on hill back of where I left. Put out at once—don’t cross. Allow to burn—all is well.”

A thrill ran through George’s body. At a glance its meaning was plain to him.

“The army crosses the river on Christmas night,” he thought. “I am to light a signal fire on the hill back of the spot where Nat left me last. If I put the blaze out at once it will mean that I find it dangerous for them to make the attempt. If I keep it burning, it will mean that the time is ripe for the blow to be struck—that the Hessians suspect nothing.”

For a moment he continued gazing at the paper, fascinated; then he turned to the messenger.

“Who gave you this?”

“Mistah Brewstah, suh.”

“Where is he?”

“Was jes below de town, suh, a few hours ago. Reckon he’s gone now, ’cross de river.”

“Do you know what’s written on this paper?” keenly.

“’Deed no, suh. I can’t read writin’ no-how. It’s sumfin ’bout Gen’ul Washington, though. Mistah Brewstah done told me that when he said I was to be ca’ful and not let the British see it.”

“How did he come to give it to you?”

“I wu’ks for Mistah Spen’sah, outside town; Mistah Spen’sah is a friend to Gen’ul Washington’s gen’l’men, an’ he done tol’ Mistah Brewstah that he could done trust me. I’se pow’ful sot ’gainst dese heah Hushians, I is.”

For some time after the lad had gone George stood immovable reading the paper so that there could be no mistake as to its meaning. Then he touched one end of it to the flames upon the broad hearth and watched it blacken and curl. A door opened and the draught carried the charred fragments up the wide chimney; George was still bending toward the fire meditatively, when a harsh, high-pitched voice demanded:

“Where are my friends, sir? Come now, don’t keep me kicking my heels and waiting.”

There was something familiar in the tones, and George lifted his head and gazed at the speaker. The man was burly, red-faced and had small, deeply-set eyes; and his manner, as he stood waiting for the landlord to reply, was oddly like that of an ill-trained mastiff. It flashed into the youth’s mind that he had seen this man somewhere before and under conditions which had possessed interest. As George was measuring him closely, the glance of the newcomer happened to rest upon him; and into the small, deeply-set eyes there came a look as puzzled as his own. For a moment they stood thus, gazing at each other; then the landlord spoke:

“Your friends, sir,” he said, “are in the back parlor. They required that you be shown in when you arrived.”

Several times after this George encountered the same person and each time he fell to wondering who he was; and always did he see speculation in the glances which the big man leveled at him.

On Christmas day the inn was all a-bustle with preparation. Colonel Rahl had suddenly announced that he would hold a concert and entertainment there; his own quarters were not large enough to house the throng expected; and as the inn parlors were big and comfortable, the landlord had been given notice to decorate them with greens and candle-lights against the coming of the commander’s guests. The regular lodgers at the tavern were greatly inconvenienced by the affair. The kitchens were mainly given up to the cooking of Rahl’s dinner; and when the patrons of the place did succeed in having a meal prepared, they were forced to eat it in all sorts of out-of-the-way places in order not to be in the way of those hanging the decorations.

So George found himself dining alone in a screened corner near to the fire early that evening. A small dining party was placed, after a little, upon the opposite side of the screen; George paid no attention to them, being busy with his own thoughts.

In a little time the waiters had finished their hammering and hanging; and the first voice that George caught from the party beyond the screen was that of the burly man whom he thought he knew.

“And so,” this person was saying, with a great laugh, “she is coming here to-night, is she?”

A smoother voice replied:

“Yes; she’s stopping with the Hawksworths, I understand. And they’ll be sure to be here. They are great friends of Rahl’s, you see.”

When this last person began to speak, George started in astonishment. It could not be! But as it went on he was convinced and dumbfounded. The voice was that of Major Hyde. And, as though to assure the young New Englander that he was not mistaken, Henderson, the dragoon officer, now spoke.

“’Pon my word,” he laughed. “Rahl is a great fellow. He pulls the string and they all dance like puppets.”

“Your uncle, Mr. Camp, will also be present, I suppose,” said the burly man, apparently to Hyde.

“I think not,” answered the major. “He’s still brooding over the ashes of his manor house, I believe; they can’t induce him to leave.”

“He would be a trifle astonished to see us here,” said the dragoon with another laugh, in which the big man joined.

“And scarcely pleased, I fancy,” said Hyde.

“Not pleased!” There was incredulity in the other’s voice. “Not pleased to know that you’ve really been a king’s man all along, and not a rebel. Oh, come now.”

Hyde a king’s man! George’s knife fell with a clatter to the floor, so great was his amazement.

“What I say is more likely than not to be a fact,” answered Hyde. “Herbert, it seems, made no real interest with the old gentleman in shifting his colors. I saw that long since. You see,” with a sneer in his voice, “my worthy uncle is one of those who prefer what they call principle to the gaining of victory.”

“Absurd!” growled the burly man. There was a pause, then he continued in another tone: “But it seems to me that you have made your real sympathies known too soon. The rebellion is not yet put down. If you had remained with Washington’s army, you would have——”

“He would have graced the end of a rope,” said Henderson. “And I should have borne him company.”

“Ah! They suspected you, then?”

“They were only waiting to make sure,” said Hyde. “I got wind of a letter written by Tryon to Matthews in which I was referred to—not by name, to be sure, but near enough to be dangerous. That told me that my stay in the American lines was limited.”

“Tryon is an idiot,” commented the dragoon. “How a man can so trust intimate matters to pen and ink is more than I can understand.”

“So!” was the thought of the listener. “Herbert Camp spoke the truth then. Hyde was the nephew of whom Tryon wrote.”

“It was high time for us to go,” said Henderson. “I felt it in my bones, days before the Long Island fight. That fellow Prentiss seemed growing too keen to be comfortable.”

“Prentiss?” the big man repeated the name inquiringly.

“Yes; the messenger sent us from Boston.”

“Ah! that was his name, was it? Now, there was a confounded knave for you. He was willing to sell us all out to Putnam, I’m told.”

“Yes. And he’d just as willingly sold out Putnam to us. It made little difference to him.”

“It’s fortunate that we received word as to his true character when we did,” said Henderson. “Otherwise he would have come to know every man of us for what we really were.”

“You should have got rid of the scoundrel,” growled the burly man. “There are more ways than one.”

“We tried several,” said Hyde. “Once we invited him to dinner to our place in Wall Street. But he refused.”

A shudder ran through the listener. He had indeed been near to death on that spring evening.

“Then Henderson had a shot at him later—in my uncle’s house on Crown Street.”

“Henderson!” George almost cried this aloud, so great was his astonishment.

“But I missed,” complained the dragoon. “You see, I couldn’t get a proper bead on him. I was in a sort of closet behind one of Hyde’s ancestor’s portraits, and was forced to shoot through a hole in one of the eyes. And even though I missed, I almost lost my life for the shot.”

“How was that?”

“Who stood in the middle of the room when I tore out of the closet, but Mistress Peggy Camp. Poof! What a tiger cat!” The burly man exclaimed wonderingly.

“Peggy,” said Hyde, “has always been an eager little rebel. And because I was such an ardent patriot,” laughingly, “I’ve always had her respect.”

“You once counted upon having more than that, if I remember aright. You wanted her as your wife when you thought she’d be made heiress to the old man—vice Herbert, dismissed.”

“Well, Herbert’s sudden shift to the British side of the house spoiled all that. So we’ll not discuss it.” Hyde’s voice was cold.

“And so Peggy flew at you for taking a shot at Prentiss, did she?” said the burly man. “He’d fooled her into thinking him a staunch Whig, I suppose.”

“On the contrary,” answered Henderson, “she was convinced that he was a traitor to the American cause.”

“She fancied that I, the patriot officer, sought his life for that very reason,” said Major Hyde. “That night in Crown Street, she saw me enter the room where Henderson was already concealed behind the picture. At first I thought she had been in the room when I entered, and was afraid she knew Henderson’s purpose. But later, I was convinced that this was not so.

“The rascal in the next room had been of service to her in some way. She said she knew he was a traitor to her countrymen—she realized that he was all that was bad. But, for all that, I must not harm him.”

“It was I, and not Herbert, for whom she pleaded,” was the listener’s thought. “But, then, I heard Herbert’s name mentioned; I heard——”

“All the time,” laughed Hyde, “I knew that her brother was hiding in the house. There were many arrests just then, and I suppose he feared being taken. I promised Peggy that I’d say nothing of his presence; but I warned her to beware of Prentiss.”

For the first time, George understood the conversation which had taken place in the room next the tapestried chamber. They had spoken of him at first; but later the talk had shifted to Herbert.

“Prentiss,” went on Major Hyde, “had filled her with fear, for all her determination to save him. I told her that he was in the house for no other purpose than the tracking of her brother. This I thought might induce her to leave the fellow in our hands to do with as we pleased.”

“But she didn’t?”

“No; she was frightened, but apparently had full faith in herself to deal with the situation. I went away, thinking she too would go to her room. But she must have suspected something, and was still where I left her when the shot was fired.”

“What have you succeeded in fastening upon Prentiss beside the charge from Boston that he was carrying water upon both shoulders?” inquired the big man.

“Nothing.”

“We made a try, that same night in Crown Street,” said the dragoon. “But he’s such a sharp villain that we were hard put to it to avoid suspicion.”

“I tried to make him admit that he’d betrayed Dana or young Camp to Putnam,” said Hyde. “But he avoided us; and we were forced to pass the thing off as a sort of wager.”

But at length there was a pushing back of chairs upon the other side of the screen; the score was settled, after some argument with the waiter; George heard the sound of feet crossing the floor, mingled voices in talk that was both loud and light; then a door closed upon them.

The youth looked at his watch. It was after eight o’clock. Hastily he settled for his dinner, and rising, was helped on with his greatcoat. Feeling in his pocket to make sure that he had his tinder box, he came from behind the screen and made for the street door with quick steps.

Not once did he glance about him. If he had done so he would have noted that all of the Major Hyde party had not gone. The burly man still remained, and as George hurried by him, he glanced up. The same speculation filled his eyes that always entered them at the sight of George; but this time recognition quickly followed. His heavy jaws snapped together, mastiff-like, and as the door closed behind the lad, he arose to his feet and called for his hat and coat. And as George had felt carefully for his tinder box, so did this man feel for his pistol; and being satisfied that it was in its place he opened the door and set doggedly after the other through the Christmas lighted streets of Trenton.