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6 (54) THE
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Our Boys
SYMPATHY.
A plump little girl and a thin little bird
Were out in the meadow together.
"How cold that poor little bird must be,
Without any clothes like mine," said she,
"Ailthough it is sunshiny weather!"
"A nice little girl is that," said he;
'But oh, how cold she must be! For see,
She hasn't a single feather!"
So each shivered to think of the other poor thing,
Although it was sunshiny weather,
?The Cumberland Presbyterian.
1JAU7 TlDTOriTTT A n A TiTiTTHn mTTW \TT11ITO
nu vv riiiqv/ijjiia uaivivi?jjj inij iiijvvq,
During the Revolutionary "War, there was a
long, narrow strip of land known as the "Neutral
Ground," in which the homes of the dwellers
were supposed to be secure from the attack
of both patriots and Tories. "Within the bounds
of this neutral ground, in a little cozy cottage,
lived Mrs. Moreland and her pretty dark-eyed
daughter, Priscilla, a lass of fifteen years. Captain
Moreland, the husband and father, a brave
patriot soldier, had lost his life in one of the
first battles for freedom?after the opening of
hostilities between the colonists and England,
and because she had not the means to seek a
less exposed place for herself and daughter, the
widowed mother remained in the little lonely
country home, to which, years before her be
reavement, she had been brought a happy bride.
Though loyal to the heart's core, Mrs. Moreland
was a timid little woman?afraid of even
the sound of a gun, and in every way possible
tried to avoid controversies with her neighbors.
But Priscilla was her father's own daughter,
brave, strong, self-reliant, and not a bit afraid
to speak her mind, or to take down her father's
gun in defense of her home, if necessary.
"Do be careful, daughter," her mother often
cautioned, when Priscilla was "too free" with
her tongue. "We're alone in the world, my
dear, and since we can't carry a gun or become
soldiers in behalf of our sentiments, it is wiser
to keep them to ourselves."
But Priscilla "would not be gagged by the
best Tory alive," and despite her mother's warning,
she often got the best in arguments with
the Tory neighbors, thus earning their ill-will.
It was on New Year's night, 1778, when the
wind blew cold across the snow-clad fields and
woodlar Is and a starless sky stretched wide
overhead, that a loud knocking at the widow's
front do.. olanched her face, and caused Priscilla
to glance instinctively towards her father's
trusty gun, which always lay on its high-up pegs
on the kitchen wall.
"Who's there?" <iue g' l asked, venturing into
the front room, at the doc of which the knocking
continued to grow lo .der and more determined.
"Friends," was the reply. "Soldier-friends,
half famished, not having tasted food for four
and twenty hours. Open, and for ihe love of
heaven, give us something to eat, something,
anything. Even bread and water would he
gratefully received."
At this appeal, Priscilla drew back the heavy
bolt, admitting six stalwart men in the guise
of Federal soldiers.
"Do we find our good friend, Colonel Robinson,
here, lassie?" asked the leader.
"No, he is not here," replied Priscilla, demurely.
"Have you seen him lately, my little maid?"
the interrogator continued, a hint of anxiety in
his voice.
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SO
and Girls
i i
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Priscilla was about to say that he had been
there that morning, but at this moment she
chanced to catch a glimpse of the man's scarlet
uniform under the long coat lie -wore, and her
ready wit coming to her aid, she answered: "Indeed,
sir, I cannot tell you when I last saw him;
you know he is away in the army now.,;
Her mother hearing what she said, was about
to correct the statement, when a warning look
from Phissy's black eyes made her change the
information trembling on her lips to, "What
may we do for you, gentlemen?"
"Just give us a bite to eat, ma'am, the best
in the house, please, and we will pay you well
for your trouble," returned the spokesman, glibly.
"And be quick about it, too," he added
gruffly. "We have a long journey before us,
and the night is dark and wild."
Then, while Priscilla assisted her mother to
prepare the meal demanded, the men drew close
together around the brightly burning fire and
talked of the New Year's coming in by the storm
that day, and told wild, weird stories of uncanny
happenings of holidays in the past before the
war with its horrors and hardships, had made
life too real to be frittered away with imaginary
ghosts and delusions.
Presently, while surrounding the table loaded
with the delicacies they had ordered, the men's
voices dropped to low?almost inaudible words,
but muffled as they were, Priscilla's sharp ears
caught enough of the conversation to learn that
the object of their raid was to capture Colonel
Robinson, her father's old commander, and the
trusted friend of the family?in the dark and
trying times since the dear one's death. Colonel
Robinson was an influential man in the community,
and because of his power in the colonies,
the British government had set a price on his
J
iicau.
Priscilla knew this, and she also knew that
the brave old soldier was at home on a brief
visit, to spend the New Year's holidays with his
family, and while she waited upon his wouldbe
capters so patiently, she was trying to invent
some means of communicating the news to him
before the arrival of his enemies.
While she was puzzling her brain for a solution
of the knotty problem, there came another
pounding at the door, and half a dozen more
soldiers were admitted. While arranging places
at the table for the new-comers, Priscilla learned
that t.hpv hnd Riir>cor><1o/l ir> ?L
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horses for the final dash?and that one of them,
the fleetest of the lot, was hitched at the gatepost?all
saddled and bridled, ready for the use
of Colonel Fry, who was in charge of the troops.
A bright thought flashed into Priscilla's brain,
but she said nothing, except a few whispered
words, in her mother's ears, but a little later
she slipped out of the back door and tip-toeing
around to the gate-post, mounted the flyer and
had just walked him into the shadows when she
heard footsteps approaching. Drawing reins,
she waited in breathless silence until the two
men passed. They were talking very low and
in broken sentences, about one man?Captain
Call?a suspected patriot, and three words,
"powder, quarry, cave," that reached her ears.
pave her a key to the situation, and when .the
name of "Colonel Kobinson" and "prison"
were added to the list, she guessed at the truth.
Captain Call had proved himself a traitor to
the patriots' cause by revealing the secret of
the new hiding place of the powder, guns, ptc.,
1 TJ T H [ January 17, 1912.
and there was to be a raid on the cave that
night, and after the removal of the powder to
a wagon in waiting, the dear old Colonel was
to be left a prisoner in the dark cavern?there
to perish?unless even a worse fate awaited
him at the hands of inhuman troops.
"I must outwit them some way, and save the
Colonel," Prissy told herself, under her breath,
as she walked her fleet-footed animal out into
the open?but when the lane was reached, she
gave him rein, and the next moment she was off
like the wind on her errand of mercy.
Five minutes later, when the men rushed out
to mount their fresh horses, the racer was gone,
and thinking he had broken loose, they lost
several minutes more scouring the wood-pasture
in search of him. Then as the far-away
sound of a horse's hoofs echoed hack from the
hill beyond, they began to suspect treachery,
and springing into their saddles, galloped away
at a breakneck speed.
Though they rode furiously. Priscilla kept
well in advance, and not until three miles?
half the distance to the Colonel's home had
been passed?did she catch a glimpse of the
riders, the gallop of whose horses had been
sounding in her ears ever since they left her
mother's gate. Then it was that from the opposite
hill came shouts of "Halt; halt! or we'll
shoot," repeated over and over from out the
utter darkness beyond.
Priscilla glanced back just once, catching a
glimpse of the horsemen in the bright light of
the volley from their guns. She kept her nerve,
however, though she did not risk another look
behind her, but she rode on and on, her long
black hair streaming out in the wind, while the
hills around and above her seemed to reverberate
with cries of "halt," and the whistling
of bullets.
When within a quarter of a mile of her destination,
her horse tripped and fell, spraining
her arm badly, but with her other arm around
the horse's neck, she kept her seat until reaching
the Colonel's gate, she dismounted and
rushing into the house, quickly related her
story, and urged the brave man to lose no time
in making his escape.
"Rut the powder!" exclaimed the Colonel.
"The powder must be saved at all hazards. If
it is carried away or destroyed, the militia
would have no means of defending themselves
when attacked by the Tories."
"But what can you do alone and singlehanded,
father!" entreated his wife. "Fly,
oh, do fly, while there is a chance to save your
life."
"True, Rachel, I am helpless," returned the
old soldier sadly. "If I had only known sooner?but
now it is too late, too late. That traitor
has posted them and no doubt will be in
readiness to lead them to the door of the cave,
and, alone, I can do nothing, nothing."
"Couldn't we shut them in?you and 1?"
whispered Priscilla.
"Enough said," the Colonel exclaimed under
his breath. Then he whistled softly, after
which he called Abner, the farm hand, and said
quietly, "Bring Bob and come to the old cabin
near the cave at once," Then on his swift
pacer he started after them, with Priscilla riding
lightly by his side. Arriving at the cabin
by the light of his lantern, the Colonel scribbled
a note to General Dix, in charge of the
Federal troops at Newfield post, and putting
Bob on his own fleet-footed horse, hurried him
oflf to deliver it.
The Tories, failing to find either the Colonel
or the missing horse at the Robinson home,
left, threatening vengeance both to him and
Priscilla, his informer, but after a brief consultation
among themselves outside, they de>