The alarm of the British invasion was sufficient to throw the whole of Virginia into a panic, but especially the neighbourhood about Charlottesville, for it was inferred that one purpose of their coming was to attempt to liberate the Convention prisoners. The cantonment, therefore, was hastily broken up, and all the troops were marched over the mountains to Winchester, or northward into Pennsylvania, scarcely time for them to pack their few possessions being accorded to them. From this deportation the Merediths were excepted, for as political prisoners, no mention of them was made in the orders issued by Washington and the Virginia Council; and so Colonel Bland left them unmolested, the sole residents of the once overcrowded village of huts. The removal of the prisoners proved a needless precaution, for, after remaining but a few days, the British fleet retired, having effected little save to frighten badly the people, but the apprehension subsided as quickly as it had come.

The hope of quiet was a false one, for in a few months a second expedition, under the command of Arnold, sailed up the James River and captured and burned Richmond. To face this new enemy, to which the militia of the State were deemed inadequate, Washington detached a brigade under the command of Lafayette from the Northern army, supposing the movement, like the previous one, a mere predatory expedition, which could be held in check by this number of troops; and upon news that General Phillips, with reinforcements, had joined Arnold, he further despatched a second brigade under Wayne.

Meantime, the force under Cornwallis, after overrunning North Carolina, now suddenly swung northward and effected a juncture with the British force in Virginia, raising it to such strength that Lafayette dared not risk a battle, and was left no option, as the British advanced inland, but to fall back rapidly toward the mountains.

These latter events succeeded one another with such rapidity that the people of Charlottesville first heard of some of them by the arrival of Governor Jefferson and the members of the Assembly, to which place they had voted an adjournment just previous to their being forced to abandon the capital. Sessions had scarcely been begun, however, when word was brought that the enemy was within a few miles of the town, and once again they took to their heels and fled over the mountains into the Shenandoah valley, escaping none too soon, as it proved, for Tarleton’s cavalry rode into the streets of Charlottesville so close upon what was left of the government of Virginia that some of the members were captured.

The Merediths, two miles away at Saratoga, first heard the news of these latter events from a captain of militia, who, accompanied by six sullen-looking companions, rode up early on the morning of the raid and sharply ordered the three to mount the led horses he brought with him.

“I’m ridin’,” he explained, “to collect the horses and alarm the hundreds towards Boswell’s, and the county lieutenant ordered me to take you away from here. No, I can ’t wait to have you pack.”

“’T is surely not necessary that we should be treated so,” pleaded Mr. Meredith. “My wife has not the strength to bear along—”

“Can ’t help that. Like as not the British horse ha’n’t had word that the Convention troops have been sent away, and will ride this far, and we reckon we can’t have you givin’ them no information,” answered the man. “I don ’t want no talk. Into the saddle with you.”

Protests and prayers were absolutely unavailing, and the whole party hurriedly set off at the best pace the horses were able to go. As they journeyed, a halt was made at each cabin and each plantation, and every white man found was summarily ordered by the captain to get his gun and join the party; while at each place all the horses were impressed, not merely to carry those unprovided with one, but to prevent their falling into the hands of the foe. Nor did the captain pay more heed to the expostulations and grumblings of the men, at being called away from their crops at the busiest farming season, nor of the women, at being deprived of their protectors in times of such danger, than he had to the weaker ones of the Merediths.

“The invasion law just passed by the’sembly calls out every man as can fight, and declares every one as won’t a traitor, so you can take your choice of shootin’ at the British or bein’ shot by us,” was the captain’s unvarying formula, be the complaints what they might.

As if to make the ill feeling the greater, too, he told the whole party at one point of the route, “If you-alls had been patriots and ’listed four weeks ago, you ’d every one of you’ve got a bounty of five hundred dollars of the money my saddle-bags is filled with; but you had n’t spunk, so it serves you-ails good and handsome that now you’ve got to fight for ’nary a shillin’.”

“We would n’t have been a tinker’s damn the richer if we had,” snarled one of the unwilling conscripts. “I’d rather have a pound of hay than the same weight in cursed state money, for you can feed the hay to a hoss, but I’m consarned if t’ other ’s good for anythin’.”

“Say, cap,” asked a second, “has you ralely got them saddle-bags o’ yourn filled with the stuff?”

“Ay. The presses were at Charlottesville busy strikin’ it, and I was told to help save what was already printed from capture.”

“Lord! the British would n’t have seized that, with all the cord wood there is in Charlottesville, to say nothin’ of grind-stones and ploughs and chimbleys built of brick and other things of value,” asserted the original speaker.

“Might come handy along of all the terbacker they’ve took down to Petersburg. Do to light a pipe with, I reckon,” suggested another.

“Say, cap,” again spoke up the second speaker, “the raison as why I asked that there question is that we’ll be gettin’ to Hunker’s ordinary at the four corners right smart off now, and I was calculatin’ if you had enough of the rags with you to set us up a drink all round? ’T won’t cost more ’n ten thousand dollars if Hunkers ain’t in an avaricious mood.”

The officer had been absolutely inattentive to the complaints and growls, but the quizzing made him lose his temper. “You-alls shut your jaws, the lot of you, or when we reach the roundyvous this evenin’ I’ll report you to the kurnel and you’ll get the guard-house or worse,” he threatened. “I’m danged if I don’t believe every one of you-alls is a Tory at heart.”

“A little more o’ this’ll make me one,” muttered a man who hitherto had been silent, but he spoke so low as to be heard by his fellow unfortunates only, and not by the captain.

“Don ’t talk to me of the tyranny of Britain after this!” responded his immediate neighbour.

The militia officer would have done better to let the dissatisfaction find its vent in jokes; for, deprived of this outlet, the malcontents took to whispering among themselves in a manner that boded ill for something or somebody. But he was too busy securing each new recruit and each horse to give attention to the signs that might have warned him.

A rude awakening came to the captain when the motley cavalcade drew up at the ordinary at the cross-roads, for as he was in the act of dismounting, two of the party, who had been more expeditious in their movements, caught him by the leg as he swung it clear of the saddle, and brought him violently to the ground. He was held in that position while his hands and feet were tied with his own bridle, as many of the men as could get about him assisting in the operation, while the remainder, the Merediths excepted, kept up a chorus of approving remarks, or of gibing and mocking comments on the officer’s half-smothered menaces and oaths. Once secured, he was dragged to the guide-post, and with his stirrup straps was fastened to it securely. This done, his saddle-bags were pulled off his horse and the paper money was emptied out and heaped about his feet. Meantime, and as an evidence of how carefully every detail of their revenge had been planned, one of the ring-leaders had disappeared into the tavern, and now returned with a lighted brand.

“You can threat and cuss all you hanker,” he chuckled. “If we ain’t to have no bounty, we’ll give you some of ourn,” he added malignantly, as he stooped and set fire to the pile of bills.

“Oh, don’t!” screamed Janice. “Dadda, stop them!

“For shame!” echoed Mr. Meredith, swinging out of his saddle, in which hitherto he had remained a passive spectator.

“Hands off,” warned the torch-bearer, “if you don’t want to be tied alongside of him.”

There was nothing to do, and the ladies were only able to turn their backs on the sight; but they could not thus escape the howls of terror and pain that the miserable victim uttered, though the squire sought to save them from this by taking hold of the two bridles and leading their horses away.

This movement served to attract their attention to something hitherto not observed, and which the absorption of the militia in their revenge still prevented them from noting. On the road by which they had come arose a thick cloud of dust, out of which horsemen seemed to be riding, but, though they came on at a hand gallop, the screen, swept onward by the breeze, kept pace with the riders, and even at times hid now one, now all, from view, causing the squire, who first caught sight of the phenomenon, to rub his eyes, that he might have assurance that it was not a phantasm of his brain. Of this another sense furnished quick evidence, for even above the jeers of the torturers and the shrieks of the tortured sounded the clatter of hoofs. At the first warning, cries of alarm escaped from many mouths, and with the fright of guilt, there was a wild stampede for the horses; before the half of them were in the saddle, the thunder of a column of horse was close upon them, and as, mounted and unmounted, they scattered, there came a rush of red-coated troopers in amongst them. Loud above the tumult and uproar came the sharp order,—

“Capture what men you can, but don’t let a horse escape!”

Mr. Meredith, the moment the militia had deserted the fire, rushed forward, and with three kicks scattered the flaming currency from about the man’s legs,—a proceeding which attracted the attention of the officer who gave the order.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, but all the reply he received was a startled exclamation which burst from the squire.

“What!” he ejaculated. “Why, this passes very belief! Pox me, if ’t is not Phil Hennion.”