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A Crown For Valor
» J1 l^e vo It jitionary War Story of Washington
By Horatio Lankford King
i ASIUXGTOX’S main army
h.ul crcsscd the Delaware:
it lay encamped along the
hardly discernible shores
of (he frozen, silent river.
It was bitter cold, the night
was black and the swiftly
falling (lakes of snow and
:;]< t pelted the shivering
forms of the guards along
the picket lines. Here and
there the shimmering
glerm ol a camp tire cast
its yellow reflection along
the ice batger on the river below. And
the howl of the sleety wind lillod the night
with its hoarse anthem as if foretelling
doom and disaster. That day the gm'- of
the revolutionists had bellowed out their
thunders of delta nee down along the
•Delaware and had sent many a “redcoat'’
to his doom, blood had run like water
through the stre -ts, flaw ns had bit n
sacked and pillaged-tonight the elements
v,ere at war, and the whining wolf had
come from the far off snow-clad hills to
harry the scattered slain.
Washington sat in his- tent befoire a
smouldering (ire; an officer of the con
tinental army, a ycurg man with a
smooth and grave face, sat opposite him.
They were both looking down with the
j alias of their outstretched hands spread
cut over the smoking embers, apparently
listening to the weary flap of canvas out
ride and the s-w-i-s-u s-w-i-s-h of the
wintry blast. Jt was a night of terrors.
night of a thousand dangers, a night of
uoubt and of fear. The army was vith-
• ut food, without clothing, the soldiers
•won- dying of cold and hunger. Wash-
iugp. 11 had been weeping for his soldiers
lik • a child. And there was bad news.
General Howe, with his thousands, was
l iar, ready to swoop down upon his lit-
(I starving army like a vulture of prey,
flier Is had turned against him and some
had even denounced him in congress be
cause he had not brought the war to a
..j :i. lei into.u ion. Even John Adams
had cried out, "1 am rick of Fabian sys
t-ras; my toast is a short war and a
violent one!” And now to mime matters
v.c 1 re, ho had learned that another was
aliout to play him tiaitor, a man whom
In had always loved and esteemed as a
countryman and a fellow-patriot was
about to deliver him a fatal blow by be
tlaying him to his enemy. The news had
C! uio ns a shock, and a look of dumb
agony had settled on his diawn face,
which looked strangely white and ghast
ly in the flickering lire fight.
•Lieutenant Brent,” he said in a
quivering voice, ’’are you sure that this
is s a—can you not bo mistaken?”
"Sir, 1 am not mistaken, else I would
not have breathed a word about it. My
God! you don't understand. If 1 had but
c\ . n doubted the trutli of it—1—I—”
•Well?”
“Oh, nothing—nothing,” continued the.
younger wildly, “but that one of -hose
who shall suffer for this is—is—”
“I understand, Charles; and knowing
that why did you tell me?” Washington
bad risi n and with arms folded on his
breast stood looking at his companion
with a hungry, pleading expression on
his face. "Knowing (his and that by
uncovering this foul plot to me you
would not only expose a friend, but dis-
gi.u- ■ that friend and seal that friend's
doom, why did you do it?”
The young lieutenant had also risen and
stood facing his commander.
“Sir,” he said, "I am a soldier of the
continental army; 1 have pledged my life
end sword to a noble cause. I fight to win
the freedom of an oppressed people. And,
God helping me, I will not play the trai
tor! I shall fight It out at whatever cost-
friend or no friend, love or no love. 1
hope you do but jest with me ”
“Nay, 1 neither jest nor believe ought of
you. It was only to see the look of
offended dignity in the fine young face of
a brave and faithful soldier."
A flush had mounted to the weather
worn cheeks of the young lieutenant, and
v iih a short confused how he spoke.
“Sir, you have a most uncommon way—
a most uncommon way oj»making one feel
like an ass. I beg of you to desist.”
The great man was sil°nt for a mo
ment; he stood regarding the man before
l.im, and when he spoke again it was only
tc show that his thoughts had been wan
dering.
"You spoke of love, Charles; must T In
fer from that—. But there, I will not be
Inquisitive. If it be a petticoat that at
Toast cannot be 'In peri!, though in some
way you may incur its anger. Then let
ns hope that the prospect for you is not
as gloomy as you picture it. Let us hope
—as we fight—earnestly, resolutely; that
all shall turn out well In the end.” And
with a grave smile he laid Ills hand on
the young man's shoulder. "And now. It
is nigh onto the hour of midnight; you
have a hard task to complete before
dawn. Let us hope again that you will
not mistake the rendezvous of the con
spirators and capture the traitor and the
whole party. It is a bitter night; you
have a long ride before you and you will
he exposed to a great deal of danger.
Written for CAe Sunny South
But God speed you and God be with you.
I will expect you back insi-le of four
hours.”
The two men shook hands; till’ll the
younger passed out of the tent—and
"Washington was alone. He threw a fag
known to the enemy. The secret meet
ing was to he held in an old deserted
wood-cutter's shod, lying back in the
deep shadows of the forest, about threo-
fourths of a mile off the main road.
And it was his plan to steal a march
moning his men to the front and about
the window, and placing his shoulder
against the door, with a mighty effort
sent it crashing inward on the occupants
<>f the shanty. So sudden and unexpected
v.as this assault that those within were so
startled that the daring American and
his brave followers close to his roar found
themselves staring in a dozen faces
blanched with surprise and terror, and
huddled in a corner Charles Brent saw
the contemptible traitor who had betrayed
his country, cowering in a pitiful guise
of fear and shame. And'between him and
the light he saw the slight figure of a girl
‘Knowing this, and 'hat by uncovering this foot plot to me you hvould not only expose a friend, but disgrace that friend ana seal
that riend’s doom. Why did you do it?'
got or two on the fire and reseated him
self. And out of the cohj, starless dark
ness came the watchword from the pick
et lines. Fair away and faint at first,
hut as it was taken up by the guards in
and about the camp h- heard it plainly.
“The hour of midnight. All’s well!”
Then the faint, muffled gallop of horses
and the clank, clank of swords rattling In
Fheir sheathes broke on his ears and a
small body of troopers passed ids tent.
He sat rigidly, his face calm and strange
ly white.
“it is Charles,” - he muttered, “and his
men. Thank God. I can trust him!”
Once upon th-’ Highway the little troop
of horsemen faded away in the deepening
gloom, the young lieutenant at their head,
his gloved hands clutching at the lee-
coated reins. In his heart a storm was
raging as well, and the wild thoughts
which had been welling up in his mind
for (he last hour had almost completely
stunned him. Ho minded not the pelting
sleet or the cold, pitiless bite of the wind.
His thoughts were centered upon one ob
ject, the face of the woman he loved—no.
she was not a woman, but just a girl
in years. And her shadowy face framed
in its mass of misty brown hair and with
its dark brown eyes so deep, so worm in
their glowing color danced before him so
persistently _ that lie was almost per
suaded that the fancied image was a
tiring of life. And she was the spy he
was sent out to capture, though Wash
ington knew It not nor any one else but
lr.vnsejf. And when ho thought of the
fate of all spies he cringed in his saddle
and groaned. But it must be done. To
have let her gone uneaptnred and kept
the secret buried within him would have
meant perhaps a terrible defeat for the
American army and his being branded
as a traitor' In his heart, though the
world would not have been any the wiser.
And then he was a somier under oath,
trusted and esteemed by his commander.
There was only one course to take, and
that waa to do his duty. The selfishness
of his heart could'not turn him. He knew
the secluded spot in the forest where the
disgraced officer was to meet a party
of English and hand over to them papers
which would mean a fatal blow to the
cause If their contents were once made
on the unsuspecting plotters and demand
their immediate surrender. In order to
do this he must needs command his men
to dismount before reaching the hut. tic
their horses and leaving a guard behind
to warn of danger and approaching en
emy, surround the place as quietly as
possible so as to avoid an uproar. Tne
stroke must be decisive and vital in its
effect %o as to render it impossible for a
single redcoat to escape and to raise the
hue and cry in the neighboring camp of
British. It was to be an adventure spiced
with peril, and with faces as rigid and
expressionless as stone the little party
of Americans groped their way through
the darkness—swiftly, silently. After
an hour's hard ride they entered the
wood, and here the heavy fall of snow
and the scream of the north wind through
the ice burdened limbs of the swaying
trees proved to be their friends. They
moved as noiselessly as a column of
marching shadows. No living thing
chanced to obstruct their path until they
had dismounted in a clump of under
brush and had crept within sight of the
little shanty When, suddenly, a broad ray
of light streaming out of a little window
revealed the fact that a number of
horses, riderless, were huddled in a
bunch at the side of the shack. Lieu
tenant Brent and his men paused to con
sider. and drawing his sword the leader
spoke, in muffled tones:
“Comrades, you will draw arms, but let
not a shot be fired until I give the com
mand. It may not be necessary.” And
once more the little procession moved
on and with a sudden dash the place was
surrounded. Stepping forward Charles
beat upon the barred door with the hilt
of his sword and called out in a voice
that Was heard above the wind:
“In the name of Washington and the
Continental Congress, open!”
There was a sudden clatter inside, a
cry of dismay, a shrill scream of a woman
and Brent felt his heart bound in his
throat. But regaining his self-possession
he once more beat with a lively and ener
getic force on the rattling panels of the
door and awaited results.
“In the name of the British and his
majesty. King George—no!”_ came the
sneering reply.
To this Charles Brent answered by sum-
standing in bold relief in the lurid glare.
His breath came short, and with a choke
lie moved toward her and called her name.
But the girl moved not a muscle. With
hands clenched upon her breast she met
his look with a face bloodless and white.
It was now a moment of surprise for ill,
and taking advantage of the opportunity
which the astonishment of the soldiers
on seeing a woman before them offeied
him, the man wearing the uniform of an
American officer made a frantic dash for
the window, hoping to escape, but the
outstretched foot of Lieutenant Brent sent
him sprawling on the floor. With a cry
that some wild animal might make, he
rose like a flash and drawing his sw >rd
made a rush at his captor. Charles
Brent saw through his trick, and quick'.v
thrusting out his own blade in defense
cried out:
"Let no one kill the hound: it is wiiat
lie is looking for. But he must live in
suffer all the humiliation and tortures
of his damnable deed! So!" and with a
sharp ring of colliding steel the two men
fought—one to kill; the other in sheer de
fense. It was a blood-stirring spectacle;
and while the duel went on the wind and
the sleet heat upon the ro if in their un
tiring wrath. Great beads of sweat formed
on the disgraced man’s face, and lie
raught his breath with a gasp; the look of
terror in his eyes had become more start
ling. And pitying the wretch from the
depths of his heart the young lieutenant
with a quick thrust sent the man's sword
elattering across the floor. Stepping for
ward he meant to drive him to the wail,
that he might he seized and bound, but
the girl mistaking his intentions inter
cepted him.
“Stop,” she cried, “you shall not harm
him. . . . lie is my f; thcr! '
He heard her words with a groan, and
turning his face to the wall, sobbed. The
bitter truth was upon him. Tn his blind-
ress ho hid not realized it before. And
turning he was about tc speak when l
i i y was heard outside, and m xt. a crash
ing volley of musket resounded through
the night. The little )odv of troopers
whirled about ar.d feed the shower of
lead. The British were upon them. They
were howling threugh '.bo wood like a
band of bloodthirsty wolves, and the
young lieutenant saw with dim eyes one
of his men stagger and fall. Not losing
his presence of mind for a moment no
wheeled about and confrt nted bis prison
ers. then stepping to the side of the
young "Oman, held out his hand.
“Th? papers. ... I must c mpr!
you to surrender them.”
She took Ihem from her -n, ;
v.iia a courtly bow held th-'in toward
him, and in a voice that was troth mock
ing and mischievous, spoke: 1
“Yours, my lord and master. For
sooth. it is good in see a man so brave.”
But tin re was a tone of insincerity in
her voice, end r>er lip tremhled when
their hands touched. And unwaveringly
lie turned about and dashed the docu
ment in the fire.
“You may slaughter us now. but you
have lest in the game." he cried.
At this several hands lay hold of him
in their effort tn get at the papers. But
it was too late, in a burst of flame they
burnt into a crisp. And. wrenching him
self free, the officer backed to the door,
swinging his sword as he went and held
guard over the nrisoners whil. his men
outside were struggling to defend them
selves. But it was a useh^ - ; struggle.
The heavy fire of the British was terri-
blo in its effect. As Brent reeled and'Tell
to the floor it was with the command on
his lips to held the prisoners to the last.
And as he sank he saw the bulky figure
of the traitor totter and pitch forward.
A stray bullet crashing through, the win
dow had struck him. He lay as one dead.
Charles Brent laughed, then he lay quite
still, grappling with the awful pain in
his side. He heard thv sharp crack of
muskets and the exultant cry of the vic
torious. He knew that ail was 'ost. and
it was only a matter of a few moments
that ihc redcoats would be swarming
into the room. After that he lost con
sciousness, and on recovering he lv’ard
strange voices about him. and opening bis
eyes he saw the sad. sweet face of a gul
bending over him and several officers ill
English, dr-ss standing about, their long
army cloaks dripping before the tire
“By the ghost of St. Philip.” exclaimed
one. coming up, “Lieutenant Brent, to lie
sure. Forsooth, it does me good to feast
my eyes upon such a valiant personage.
And how is his lordshim George \\ ush-
ington? I have heard it said that iiis
soldiers were in rags, and that George
himself—pardon the familiarity—has not
even a pair of shoes to his name. Be
lieve me. it bereaves me sorely to hear
such news.”
Tide prostrate man felt the hot blood
r ! so tj> his brow, and with a feeling of
disgust he recognized the young Britisher
as being the cousin of the girl he loved.
Vtterly ignoring the sneers and jibes of
hi.- captors, he turned his face from ; a m
once more to meet the pleading eves of
th girl. A few minutes later he was
lifted in the saddle in front of a big
burly soldier and compelled to ride at a
good pace in the thick of the body of
horsemen, weak and faint from the loss
of blood. But though he was suffering
tortures, he had not forgotten his brave
comrades. And peering about him among
the shadowy figures he tried to discover
them, but could nqt. They had either
been killed or were in his rear.
Once upon the highway the hand of
raiders broke into a swift gallop, taking
the north road that led to the distant
river. The wind was still blowing a stiff
gale, hut the sleet and snow had ceased
.and Brent could see that in the far hor
izon the sky wore a tinge of yellowish
red—the reflection of some burning town.
The British cheered and lift -.1 £’• ’
to the lurid glare burning in the inkv
sky and clattered on down the road in a
mad, reckless dash.
So loud wag the din that they made
that 'the moan of the wind sunk to a
whisper, and the piercing notes of .a bu
gle mingled with the hoarse roar. The
American found himself ’ ring lvrne
along ; , ;.;t .>: debris might be
tossed on the bosom of some mighty
flood. There was nothing to do but to fol
low the current and await nis fate. There
was no hope.
But here he was mistaken, for within
ten minutes there was the wildest confu
sion. th” thunderous roar of musket, the
rumble of drums and the steady, rever
berant sound of marching columns. Dihe
English raiders had unwittingly dashed
into a force of Americans, S00 strong,
which was hurrying toward the Delaware
to reinforce Washington. It was an ex
ceeding fortunate circumstance, and by
the sad gray light of dawn Charles
Brent lay in his tent stretched on a cot
unconscious. And fifty yards from his
door the captured had stacked their
arms. But the wounded man did not
know this, or that Washington knew the
full particulars of the night’s fray.
When he recovered consciousness two
days later it was to hear that a groat
battle had been fought and that the Brit
ish had been “driven to the sea,” and
also to find, sitting beside him close to
the cot, the woman he loved looking down
at him. I cannot describe the light that
came into his eyes or the expression on
his pale face, but I can say that there
were two young people in the world at
that time who were very happy. And
Continued on last page
THE MAN UNDER THE BED
By Garnette Jackson
cAn unusually grotesque story in the honorable mention
Written for Sunny South
r *MBCAN see it now as I saw it
I 1 that first evening. The old
S red brick house sitting
■ majestically back amongst
the tall stately oaks that
stood like grim sentinels
keeping watch over dead
and living alike. Back in
the garden gray white
stones peeping up through
the myrtle vines marked
the resting place of dead
and gone Montgomerys.
The locust trees in front
emitted sweet, intoxicating odors and shed
a delightful cool shade over the grassy
lawn. The whole place wore a cool, rest
ful look. “The old Kentucky home” im
mortalized. From attic to cellar the little
window panes winked and blinked their
bright eyes at me as the last rays of the
sunset danced merrily over them, giving
them the impression of fiery-eyed little
demons witnessing the discomfiture of
their prey.
How closely I gathered my skirts about
me to escape the touch of some uncanny
reptile hiding in the rank grasses as I
made my way up the narrow path to the
house.
How tenderly and affectionately Aunt
IMarian took me. in her arms and kissed
me, calling me her precious child.
I remember well how our voices re
echoed down the wide old halls like voices
from departed spirits claiming still a right
to life; and the grim old portraits looked
upon me critically, and I shuddered to
tbink what a judgment those industrious
forefathers would pass upon an idle young
lady of modern times.
Aunt Marian led the way into the roomy
old sitting room. “Sit down her, child,’’
she said, placing a great armchair for me.
“You must be tired to death, all but;
and your Uncle Jim drives so slow. Now
let me take your hat; how like your
mother you are growing! She was quite
the belle of our neighborhood in her day,
so you should be proud to be like her. Is
she as gray as I am? No? Well, now, I
wonder! She must be at least three years
older, for her sister Mary was just my
age a_nd your mother was older than
Mary.” Then the dear old lady rattled
off on to something else, while I eyed
the dark stained wainscoting, the numer
ous nooks and crannies of the old room,
dubiously. How often had a cold, still
being rested In state here upon stretchers,
covered with immaculate sheets scented
with the sweef old odor that pervaded the
room.
How often had people passed noiselessly
along the old corridors, speaking in
hushed voices, with their faces so white
and sad?
Not once did a merry, rollicking scene
present itself to my mind. I could not for
the life of me associate merry voices and
hearty Christmas cheers with these
gloomy old rooms.
I had worked so hard the whole year
and now that I was given a vacation I
meant to spend it here in quiet and se
clusion.
Somewhere down yonder where the syca
mores grew up so white and tall I could
see them through the window there, a
placid stream flowed along in its slow,
lazy way, making that rippling, musical
sound which nothing else on earth can
produce. How sweet and soothing it would
be to slip down there In the cool and
quiet, listening to its cadence forever!
“It is so kind of you, my dear,” Aunt
Marian was saying, “to come to me when
there are so many places with more at
tractions and gayety.”
“You musn’t get dull while you are here.
There’s lots of books strewn around; may
be they are not what girls love to read
nowadays, but some young ladies love .to
prowl in old attics just for ’novelty,’ so
you may have the first chance at mine,
for Lily never cared for such things. She
would only sit bv the window, poor child,
and look away toward the great fleecy
clouds in a wistful sort of way as if she’d
like for it to come- and pick her up and
carry her off to the sunny skies. 1 used
to wish the old place wasn't so shady
and lonesome like on her account; seems
as though thej5unshine would have bright
ened and cheered her more.”
“But, Aunt Marian, who was Lily?” X
asked.
“She was your cousin that lived in Chi
cago. I had heard so much of the big feet
and loud voices of Chicago women that I
was surprised when Lily came. Such a
wee. dainty maiden, but her face was so
sad it pained me to look at her, and it
was all on account of a lovers’ quarrel.
“Philosophers may talk in that wise way
of their’s and say folks never di* «f
broken hearts, but if they had seen Lily
pining away day after day their belief
would have been shaken. Your 1'ncie
Jim and me used to try to cheer her up,
but it was no use. She drooped like a
delicate flower until the good Lord saw
cause to take her away from all sorrow;
then we laid her away out there under
the weeping willows where she used to sit
on summer evenings and listen to the
birds sing.”
Contiuued. on last page
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