The Boys of Old Monmouth Part 6

How long he slept he did not know, but it was broad daylight when he opened his eyes. Some one was pounding upon his door, and with a confused thought that Fenton was besieging the house, or that Was.h.i.+ngton had begun an attack upon Clinton's forces, he quickly sat up in the bed and listened.

The summons was repeated, and Tom at once realized where he was and what was expected of him. There was no mistaking Benzeor's rude method of proclaiming the presence of the morning, and if he had had any doubts, they would have been quickly dispelled by the words which followed.

"Come, Tom, get up! It's high time we were at work again!"

"I'll be down in a minute," replied Tom as he leaped out of bed and hastily dressed.

While he was engaged in that occupation he tried desperately to collect his thoughts and think of some way out of the troubles which he feared were sure to come that day. Should he tell Benzeor plainly that he could no longer remain under his roof? Ought he to tell him what he had overheard the night before? Had the time come for him to declare himself and to take the open stand which he had for a long time secretly planned to do? Thoughts of Sarah and the toiling, careworn little mother of the household presented themselves before his troubled mind, and the longer he thought, the more perplexed he became.

The problem was not solved when he pa.s.sed down the stairs and went out of the house to the barrel which stood beneath the corner of the eaves.

He took the rude wooden bowl and filled it with water, and desperately tried to arrive at some conclusion as he bathed his flushed face.

The family were already seated at the breakfast-table, and the sounds of Benzeor's gruff voice could be distinctly heard through the open windows. The hens with their broods were moving about the yard, and the dog came and rubbed against his leg as the lad dried his face and hands on the rough towel that was hanging near the water barrel. The storm had pa.s.sed, and the summer sun was s.h.i.+ning clear and strong now.

As he lifted his eyes and looked out over Benzeor's fertile lands, only a vision of peace and restfulness could be seen on every side. It was all so different from the storm which was in his own soul that Tom almost groaned aloud as he turned to enter the kitchen and take his accustomed place at the table.

As he entered the room, Benzeor said, "You're late this morning, lad, but I thought I would let you sleep, you had such a hard day of it yesterday. But there's no trip to New York this morning, and not likely to be one again soon."

Benzeor's manner was not unkind, and as Tom glanced at him he wondered whether the man was in any wise suspicious of him or not. Apparently he was not, but without making any reply Tom seated himself and quietly decided to wait until they were alone before he spoke of what was in his mind.

"Tom," said Benzeor after a brief silence, "I want you to go over to the ten-acre lot to-day. The ground's wet, but the corn there needs hoeing, and we can't wait."

The "ten-acre lot" was on the border of Benzeor's possessions, and was nearly a mile distant from the house. On all sides it was bordered by woods, and was as lonely a place as could be found in all the region.

"Are you going, too?" inquired Tom, with an apparent indifference he was far from feeling.

"No. I've got to go in another direction to-day. I may not be back at night either, though I can't say as to that. You'd better take your dinner, too, Tom, and I'll leave one of the muskets for you. You can load it up with bird-shot and keep the blackbirds and crows away.

They're raising the mischief this year, and corn's going to be worth money this fall, if I'm not greatly mistaken."

Tom made no reply, although his heart was beating a little more rapidly than usual. Benzeor's absence from home promised little good, and the words which he had overheard the night before came back now with redoubled force. Where was Benzeor going? And why did he send him to work in the distant field, when he was positive that some of the corn nearer the house was in far greater need of hoeing than that in the ten-acre lot?

However, he did not voice his questions, and immediately after the breakfast was over Benzeor mounted his horse and departed up the road, going in the opposite direction to that which led to Little Peter's house.

Tom went up into the unfinished room in which Benzeor kept his guns and ammunition, but instead of taking the musket to which the man had referred, he selected a rifle, and loaded it with a ball instead of the bird-shot as Benzeor had directed. Just why he did this Tom could not have explained even to himself, but somehow there was the feeling in his heart that he might need to be prepared to deal with larger game that day than the thieving blackbirds or the noisy crows.

"I've got your dinner all ready, Tom," said Sarah, as the boy came back with his gun into the kitchen. "Why, you've got the rifle!" she added in surprise, as she noted the weapon he had in his hands. "There's nothing wrong, is there?" she said anxiously.

"I hope not. I don't know. I thought I'd take this gun," replied Tom in some confusion.

Sarah said nothing more, but Tom knew from her manner that she was alarmed. He would have been glad to quiet her fears, but the anxiety in his own heart rendered him somewhat embarra.s.sed, and without saying anything more he shouldered his gun, and picking up the little pail, or "blicky," as the country people termed it, having adopted the Dutch word whether they themselves were Dutch or not, he set forth on his walk to the distant ten-acre lot.

He stopped in the barn long enough to select a hoe, and then with the added implement resumed his journey across the fields. When he came to the borders of the woods through which he was to pa.s.s, he turned and looked back at the house.

Sarah was still standing in the doorway, and as she saw Tom stop she waved at him the sunbonnet which she was holding in one hand by the strings. Tom waved his "blicky" by way of a return, and then entered the woods, which shut out the view of all that lay behind him.

The birds were flitting about in the trees and filling the air with their songs. The squirrels darted along the branches, stopping only occasionally to chatter at the intruder. High over all he could see a fish-hawk and his mate circling in the air, and Tom knew that their nest was not far away, and doubtless they were watching him to see that he did no harm to their little ones, which by this time must be well grown.

As he came near to a marshy little pond which lay in the centre of an open place in the woods, he stopped for a moment when he heard the angry notes of a ground thrush near by. He soon saw that the bird was engaged in a fierce contest with a water snake which had crawled up the bank and doubtless had been endeavoring to make his breakfast upon the fledgelings in the nest he had discovered.

Tom watched the contest for a moment, and then advanced to the aid of the bird, which was beating the ground with her wings, and occasionally darting swiftly at her foe. His approach was instantly seen by the snake, which quickly abandoned the contest, and, squirming down the bank, slid into the stagnant water; but Tom could still see the head which was lifted above the water, and the glittering little eyes were intently watching his movements, although the rest of the long slimy body was concealed in the pond.

"That's just like Benzeor," said Tom aloud, as he dropped his pail, and picking up a stone threw it savagely at the head he could see a few yards out from the bank.

The head instantly disappeared, and Tom turned to watch the bird, which now was hopping about in the bushes, uttering harsh little notes of relief.

"You're all right now, old lady," said Tom. "Go back and tend to your babies. I only wish I could serve every crawling thing the way I served your enemy."

He soon arrived at the end of his journey, and, placing his gun within easy reach, began his task for the day. Why he had put off his conversation with Benzeor he could not explain. But the energy with which he began his work served to afford a measure of relief for his pent-up feelings, and when the noon hour at last came he had done far more work than a morning often witnessed.

Once he had stopped suddenly when he thought he heard the report of a gun in the distance. The sound had twice been repeated, but it seemed to be m.u.f.fled and far away, and as he resumed his labor he tried to persuade himself that it was only Little Peter firing at the blackbirds or the thieving crows.

The reports had made him anxious, however, and when he had stopped for dinner he had kept his gun near him all the time. The silence served to increase his feeling of loneliness. On every side stood the forests; and the great trees, which had never as yet felt the stroke of the axe, were companions without sympathy.

With a feeling of desperation Tom soon resumed his labors. The sun pa.s.sed over his head and began to sink below the tops of the taller trees. He had stopped for a moment to wipe his dripping face and gain a brief rest, when he was startled by the sight of some one emerging from the forest.

He gazed for a moment intently at the new-comer, and soon recognized Sarah. What was the trouble? Her dress had been torn by the bushes, her hair had become loose and was streaming down her back. But her disheveled appearance was not the worst, for as Tom dropped his hoe and ran across the lot to meet her, he saw that her eyes were filled with an expression of terror, and her face betrayed the wild alarm which seemed to possess the swiftly running girl.

CHAPTER VII

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

"WHAT'S wrong, Sarah? What is it? What is it?" said Tom excitedly, as he drew near the almost breathless girl. "Has anything happened at the house?"

"Oh, Tom!" was all that Sarah at first could say. The reaction from her excitement and the swift pace at which she had been running had come, and the frightened girl burst into a flood of tears.

Tom looked on in helpless amazement. Sarah was usually such a strong and self-contained girl that her present distress was all the more perplexing. He looked at her a moment, feeling how utterly unable he was to comprehend the state of her feelings and how helpless he was to aid or comfort her. Benzeor might be faced; and even Fenton, in spite of the fear with which Tom regarded him, might be met; but a weeping girl was entirely outside the realm of all his previous experiences, and he stood leaning upon his gun, eager to do something to aid Sarah, and feeling a deep sympathy for her as he silently watched her.

Perhaps his silence was the very best aid he could offer, for in a brief time the resolute Sarah gained control of herself, and lifting her tear-stained face to that of the troubled lad by her side she said, "Oh Tom, they've killed Little Peter's mother!"

"What!" exclaimed Tom in amazement. "Killed her? You can't mean it! Who killed her?"

"Yes, they shot her, and have carried off his father, too."

"I don't understand, Sarah," said Tom more quietly. "Tell me about it."

"Little Peter came over to our house just a little while ago to leave the children, and he told us all about it. It seems, he was the lookout yesterday down by the Hook and didn't get home till it was almost light this morning.

"He said he went up to his room and laid down upon his bed, and must have gone to sleep, but he was waked up by the sound of the voices of men in the house. He jumped out of bed and listened, and pretty soon he heard one of them tell his mother that she must hand over the money she had hidden in a stocking up in the garret, and tell where his father was.

"She refused to do either, and then Little Peter hurriedly dressed and ran down the stairs, but some of the men just grabbed him and held him fast so that he couldn't do anything to help his mother. He said the men all had masks on their faces except Fenton, for he thinks it was Fenton's band that did the work, and he was sure he recognized the blacksmith."

"No doubt about that!" exclaimed Tom. "What did they do then?"

"They held his mother while some of them ran up into the garret, and pretty soon one of them came back with the stocking. They made quite a time over that, and Little Peter thought they wouldn't do anything more, but it seems they didn't find as much money in the stocking as they expected. Little Peter explained it to me by saying that his mother had divided it, and had hidden a part in the garden back of the house and left only a part in the stocking.