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LIEUJT BARTON AND CAPTAIN CARDN iR,                   Page 57.




THE
QUAKER  PARTISANS., Bt2tor- of ttt eholutiol.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE SCOUT."
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
rIIILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1869.




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern
District of Pennsylvania.




PREFATORY.
MY apology for intruding upon the public with a
book connected with a subject so pitilessly be-storied
as the Revolution is, simply, that its route is mainly
over ground hitherto untraveled.
The deep feeling that pervaded the community in
the early part of the War of Independence showed
no more striking and wonderful manifestation than
appeared in the fact that members of the Society
of Friends in Philadelphia, still claiming to be
"Friends," actually withdrew themselves from the
great body of the Society, and organized troops, composed of their own members, to assist in the great
struggle.
In all respects, except taking up "carnal weapons,"
-and making good and vigorous use of them too,-I
believe they maintained all the religious usages of the
Society, and, after the war, they built the church described in the following pages, in which they met for
worship under the title of " Free Quakers."
The Society, in its distinctive character, died out
( iii )




iv               PREFA TOR Y.
many years ago; but there seemed to me to be an
element of romance in this feature of the great war,
that was worth preserving.
I lament that, since the story was written, the
quaint little old house of Thomas Sanford has been so
deplorably modernized and improved that no one
would recognize it.
The story has no particular plot, being intended
only to tell what certain very irregular people did,
under the pressure of varying circumstances, long
ago, and having no reference to what regular and
sedate people ought to do now.
PHILADELPHIA, March 1, 1869.




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
CHAPTER I.
THERE are not many scenes this side the "Delectable Mountains," more beautiful, after their kind, than
the Brandywine Hills. There is nothing grand, nor
sublime, nor magnificent, in them; there is no stern or
rugged feature, except one of which I will speak in a
moment, to be seen, as far as the eye can reach, in that
part of them among which my story begins; but the
hills roll back in long gentle slopes east and west from
the little river; low, exquisitely rounded hills, rolling
back and back like waves, with sweet valleys sleeping
between them, through which flow small streams,
sometimes silently, sometimes gurgling over stones
and against sharp turns in the banks, into the river.
It is the beauty of tenderness and repose. Soft shadows slumber on the hill-sides and in the valleys, and
nestle among the masses of foliage in the woods which
still overspread the country.
In the cool gray of the dawning, in the shimmering
blaze of a July noon, bathed in the golden splendor of
the sunset, or sweeping their wavy outline in strong,
sharp relief against the night sky, they are alike beau1*             (5)




6          THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
tiful with a solemn, tender loveliness, the recollection
of which never fades out from the hearts of any who
have lived among them.
The one rugged feature of which I spoke —and that
is not visible at a distance which takes in the whole
sweep of the landscape-is a rock which stands upon
the right bank of the river, about two or three hundred
yards below the bridge over which the Strasburg road
crosses it, and about two miles from the borough of
West Chester, now one of the prettiest towns in Eastern Pennsylvania,-though at the time of which I am
writing, consisting as it did of a single tavern, known
then, and indeed ever since, with the exception of a year
or two during which it was occupied as a girls' boarding-school, as "The Turk's Head," its beauty may be
said to have been in an undeveloped and inchoate state.
There may have been a blacksmith's shop and a country store, also; I presume those concomitants were not
wanting; but, having no historical evidence thereof,
and wishing to be as exact as circumstances will admit
of, I had rather not say positively.
This rock rises perpendicularly from the water's
edge to the height of about forty or fifty feet, having
near its southern extremity a mass of stone projecting
some six or eight feet from the rough, craggy face,
over the water, at perhaps three or four feet above the
ordinary surface-level, and perfectly flat on the under
side, thus forming a capital shade from sun or shelter
from rain for that most patient class of men yclept
anglers; albeit the stream at this day furnishes but
little to reward their patience.
On the south side the rock, covered there, as indeed
everywhere except on its perpendicular face, with green




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.               7
sod, rises with a steep ascent to the top, while backwards it slopes by a gradual descent to the level of the
country behind; from the top northward runs a rather
steep bluff for some distance up the stream, and parallel with its course.
At present there are a few trees scattered over its
sides and top, while a number of others, some large
and some small, grow in front of it, on the strip of
ground between it and the stream which. flows placidly
on below. At the summit, the ground is covered with
scattered boulders, some loose, but mostly only cropping out above the surface, which, near the front, is
much broken; the highest part humps up, as it were,
into a ridge, leaving a rugged, irregular terrace on each
side, that on the south falling away rather precipitately, and that on the north stretching away up the
stream, as I have mentioned, in a steep bluff, almost
resembling an artificial embankment.
The ridge above is not more than thirty or forty feet
wide where it begins, running back, and gradually
widening as it goes, to the distance of perhaps five hundred yards, before it is lost in the level of the ground
in the rear; rough near the face of the rock, but growing smoother as you recede from it.
Below the rock, for some distance down the stream,
and extending two or three hundred yards on each
side of it, the ground consists of low and level meadow,
rich and fertile, as indeed is all the land in this part of
Chester county.
About a quarter of a mile before you reach the
bridge, which steps on its solid stone piers across the
Brandywine, a road turns off to the left from the Strasburg road, nearly at right angles with it, and runs




8          THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
parallel with the stream at about the same distance,
till it reaches what is known as the "Factory" (which
for a good many years went periodically into a state of
suspension for want of funds), where the stream sweeps
to the eastward, so as to bring itself close to the road;
thence they run cosily side by side to Jefferis' Ford, and
thence, the road, leaving the stream, goes across the
country, past Strode's Mill (both of them points connected with Chester county's share of Revolutionary
history), to Birmingham, which is as far as we need to
follow it. On the east side of this road, about two or
three hundred yards below the main road, and in full
view of the rock, stands a quaint little old brick house
with a steep roof, which, though modernized in some
respects, still retains one of the narrow windows, glazed
with small lozenge-shaped lights set in lead, which
was brought from England when the house was built.
Nobody knows how old the quaint little building is,
nor who built it; but there it stands, facing the old
rock, a relic of the good old times, the only thing there,
with which man's meddlesome hands have had anything to do, that saw the time when Chester county
was part of " ye pprovince of Pennsilvania," —at whose
door, for aught I know, William Penn himself may
have sat on some summer evening, with his plain cocked
hat laid off to allow the cool evening wind to play on
his brow, while he looked abroad through the curling
smoke of his pipe over the goodly land which the munificent Charles II. had allowed him to buy from the
red owners of the soil and thus cancel a bad debt the
monarch owed to William Penn the elder.
Verily, William the younger found it an exceedingly
bad debt before he had done with it.




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.               9
At the door of this house, on a pleasant evening in
the beginning of July, 1777, resting after his day of
labor, sat an old man, quietly enjoying the evening air,
as it came cool and moist from the creek, laden with
the fresh smell of the sedge upon its banks. The sun
was sinking behind the trees, and the mist was beginning to settle down along the- course of the stream,
while the light grew fainter and fainter as -the night
came on.
The old man had been sitting silently, his eyes wandering carelessly over the scene before him, when something in the by-road on which the house stood, attracted
his attention. Turning partly around in his chair toward the door, he called,"Jenny!"
"What is it, father?" answered a low, very pleasant
voice within the house.
" Come here and tell me what this is comin' up the
mill-road. I can't make out whether it's a steer, or a
man on horseback."
"Why, father, it's a man on horseback," said Jenny,
coming beside him. " I can see him plain."
"Yes, yes; young eyes are better than old ones I to
me it looks like nothing but a big black spot movin'
along. Can thee see who it is?"
"No," said Jenny, "I can't make out yet: if I do
know him, it's too dark, and he's most too far off."
Jenny stood by her father, scrutinizing the stranger,
until the latter, having arrived opposite the door, reined
up his horse and stopped, looking inquiringly for a few
moments alternately at the old man and at Jenny, after
the usual greetings had been exchanged.
He was a well-built man, about five feet ten inches




10         THE QU4AKER PARTISANS.
high, rather slender, but muscular-looking, and clad in
an ordinary citizen's dress. At last he spoke.
"Can you tell me where a person lives named
Thomas Sanford, somewhere in this neighborhood?"
"That's my name," said the farmer. "What does
thee wish with me?"
" You are the man I'm looking for, then," said the
stranger, with a frank smile. "I judge so from what
you say, as well as from the location, which answers
the description pretty well, and-and-from some other
things which Frank told me," he added, with a glance
at Jenny.
" Frank I" exclaimed the old man; " then thee comes
from-where does thee come from, and who is the
Frank thee speaks of?"
" I come from Philadelphia," said the stranger, " and
the Frank I speak of is the man to whom you lent this
purse, with instructions to send it back by the right
man" —laying a slight emphasis on the last words, and
holding out an ordinary wallet purse with very gauntlooking sides.
" Thee comes from Frank Lightfoot, sure," said the
old man, getting up and taking the purse from the
other's hand; "he's sent back the purse leaner than
he took it; but light down, light down, and come into
the house; thee's hungry, and so's thy beast, I know.
Jenny, get something for this friend to eat-I forgot to
ask thee thy name -"
"Bettle-William. Bettle," answered the other, dismounting; " but it would be as well, for several reasons,
that my name should be kept as quiet as possible. Just
call me William; nothing more."
"I understand," said the old farmer; "calling names




THE Q UAKER PARTISAN.S.            11
does no good. Here, Mike," he added, addressing the
hired man, who had just made his appearance; "take
this critter to the stable and give him a feed and some
water, and rub him down, and put some straw in the
stall for him.'
"Yis, sur," said Mike, springing into the saddle with
a "whoop, git'lang now!" and kicking his heels into
the spirited beast's sides as he lit:
Showing off one's agility on strange horses is sometimes unsatisfactory in its results. The fiery animal,
as he felt the heels touch him, sprang from all fours
into the air, whirling half round as he did so, and suddenly humping his back in a way that shot Mike up as
if from a spring, and landed him in a very crumpled
state in the fence-corner on the opposite side of the
road, while the horse stood looking at him as quietly
as if nothing had occurred.
" Roland don't fancy strange heels in his ribs," said
Bettle, dryly, as he crossed the road to the assistance of the discomfited Mike. "Any bones cracked,
neck put out of joint, or any little matter of the
kind?"
Mike slowly raised himself, feeling his limbs, and
carefully moving his joints one by one, looking first at
the horse and then at his questioner, in a kind of ireful
bewilderment, without speaking.
"All right, I see," said Bettle; "nothing's out of
joint but the nose, this time. I think you'll find it quite
as comfortable an arrangement to lead him to the
stable:" which Mike immediately did, with a rather
crest-fallen air.
"That's rather a'ree' critter o' thine," said the
farmer, as Mike led the horse away.  "As Mike's not




12         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
hurt, I'm not sorry to see his comb cut a little, he's so
fond of braggin' about his ridin', and sayin' there are no
horses here fit for a'gintleman' to ride."
"Roland is an Irish hunter, and therefore a sort of
cousin to Mike: he'd have been more neighborly if
Mike hadn't introduced himself quite so uproariously.
But what's up now?" exclaimed Bettle, suddenly, as a
fierce, ringing neigh, followed by the sound of a lash or
two, then a sudden rush of the horse and a crashing
blow of his feet upon what seemed to be some boards,
came from the barnyard.  "The fool is beating him!
He'd better have grappled with a mad bull."
So saying, Bettle rushed to the stable just in time
to see Mike standing behind the pump, his teeth chattering and hair standing on end with fright, while the
horse, with his ears laid flat back upon his head, and
the foam flying from his distended nostrils, leaped
open-mouthed at him, right over the well-curb and the
trough that stood upon it, snapping at him savagely as
he passed.
"Och, git out, ye divil!" exclaimed Mike, dodging
around the pump again, so as to have it between him
and the furious brute; " ye're no horse at all; ye're-  "
" Run, you fool I Run for your life!" shouted Bettle, darting into the yard.  "The horse'll kill you!
Run, I say!"
It was high time; for the beast, finding that he had
missed his aim, had turned again, after making a short
circuit, and was crouching for another spring.
Mike ran with a speed he never accomplished before
nor afterward, never stopping till he was safe in the
house, with the door bolted.
As he shot past Bettle, who was standing about




THE QUAKER PART~ISA.NS.          13
half-way between the gate and the pump, the horse
came flying over the well-curb again, after him; but, as
he lit, Bettle, who had stepped directly in his track,
threw up his hand, saying, calmly enough, "Halt!
Roland;" and the horse, in the heat of his mad fury,
stopped as if he had been struck dead.
" Thee has the beast under tolerable good command,"
said Thomas Sanford, from the gate, whither he had
hurried, though not quite so fast as the younger man.
"I don't think a farm-horse would have understood that'HaltI' as well as thine did. I reckon he's smelt powder before now; and there's something about thee that
looks as if it would be more at home under the blue
coat than the drab one thee wears."
Bettle smiled, and answered," I suppose there's no use in denying that I'm a
soldier, or that Roland has been trained to something
besides road-service. I'll tell you more when we get
to the house. In the mean while, I had better take him
to the stable myself, as I don't suppose Mike will want
to have much to do with him. Where shall I put
him?"
The farmer accompanied Bettle to the stable, the
horse following as quietly as a dog, and indicated the
place he was to occupy, where Roland in a few minutes was standing at his ease, munching the fragrant
hay with which the rack was filled.
They then returned to the house, where they found
supper ready, with Jenny at the head of the table, her
mother sitting at a little distance from it, knitting, and
Mike in the chimney-corner, recovering, as well as he
could, from his fright. He was not naturally timid, but
he had never come in contact with anything in the
2




14         T1IE Q UAKER PA RTAISA4 S.
shape of horseflesh possessing the peculiar traits of
character with which Roland had so unceremoniously
made him acquainted; and let me tell you, you who
are incredulous, that there is no more dangerous wild
beast on this earth than an enraged stallion; and a
braver man than Mike ever claimed to be might well
be excused for letting his discretion get the better of
his valor, under the circumstances. Besides, he was
firmly persuaded in his own mind that the horse was
possessed of an evil spirit, and, as soon as the two men
entered, he exclaimed, eagerly,"Did ye ixercise the divil out iv'im, misther? Sure
I niver was so frekened in my life."
"There was no devil in him to be exorcised," said
Bettle, quietly; "but he don't like the whip, and I'd
recommend you not to try it on hint again."
"Sure an' I'm not goin' within rache iv his ugly
mouth agin, nor thim hales o' his, aither. Bedad, whin
he sthruck at me wid his fore faate, they splut the wellcurb like an axe."  So saying, Mike, whose bones
were a little sore, betook himself to bed.
The supper was soon over, Bettle being the sole performer, as the family had finished their meal an hour
before.  He then entered into an explanation of the
meaning of his visit.
Frank Lightfoot, he said, had directed him to Thomas
Sanford, as a stanch Whig, and one who could tell
him where to find fifteen or twenty bold, active young
farmers of Frank's acquaintance, who were ready and
willing to fight, if they had anybody to lead them. Did
Thomas know of such, and would he give him the assistance Frank had promised?
"Yes," answered the farmer, "I do know, I s'pose,




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.              15
that many idle young vagabonds who are ready. for
anything but useful work. But it was strange for
Frank to send thee to me on such an errand. He knew
well enough, as I s'pose thee knows by this time, that
I am a Friend, and   7"
"So am I," said Bettle, quietly, "and have had
none but Friends in my family since William Penn
came over."
"And a soldier?" said Mrs. Sanford, who was a
stout, comfortable, motherly old lady, such as most
farmers' wives become. "How's that? Haven't they
dealt with thee?"
"No," answered Bettle, smiling; "I'm  in good
standing in the meeting to which I belong. Did you
never hear of the Free Quakers?"
" Yes," said Thomas, "I have heard tell of them,
but never knew much about them. I s'pose thee's one,
of course?"
"Yes, I am."
" Have they all dropped the plain language as
completely as thee has?" inquired Jenny, mischievously.
" Well, no," answered Bettle, coloring slightly;
"the fact is, I've been so much in bad company,
as regards that, for a year or two past, that I've
got out of the way of using it, almost without knowing it."
"' Never mind that, Jenny," said her father; " I want
Friend William to tell me more about the people called
Free Quakers."
Bettle proceeded to give the history of the schism,
in substance as I shall describe it in a future chapter,
having no room for it here, and contrived to interest




16         THE QUAKER PARTISA4NS.
the old farmer so much, and so far to enlist his sympathy in the movement, as to induce him to say,"Well, if thee chooses to go among the boys and
talk the matter over with them, and Mike chooses to
tell thee where to find them, I don't know as I can help
it, though I may not feel exactly free to tell thee myself. It's hard to know exactly what is right. I'll
tell thee this much, though: most of the people in this
region are Friends and Loyalists —what thee calls
Tories-and I must keep quiet on the subject, if possible, so as to keep out of trouble with the meeting
and with them. Thee will stay here, as a visitor, as
long as thee sees proper, and I shall ask no questions
about matters that are none of my business. Thee
understands?"
" Perfectly," said Bettle; " and I'll take care not to
compromise thee."
He was gradually drifting back into his old style of
language, partly from the force of present associations,
and partly because he had an idea that it would please
Jenny better.
And this reminds me that I have omitted a very
important matter, that should have been attended to
earlier. Here have I been talking, through the larger
part of a chapter, about a young lady, without giving
any idea of her personal appearance.
The fact is, there was nothing very extraordinary
about her to describe. She was not one of your impossible beauties, but she had a face that was pretty
enough, though not handsome in what I conceive to
be the strict acceptation of the term; that is, she had
no features that were aristocratic or classical (whatever those terms may mean), but simply a sweet,




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.              17
rather childish face, shaded by chestnut-brown hair,
which would run waving across her forehead and
cheeks in spite of all her efforts to coax and smooth
such vanities out of it. Her complexion was of a
clear red and white, which contrasted well with large
hazel eyes, that in repose had something in kind,
though not in degree, of the sad, dreamy look of Faed's
Evangeline, if you ever saw the engraving; it is the
most touching face, in its depth of desolate woe, that
ever artist's pencil drew or engraver's burin traced.
I love to see a broad, well-opened eye, in either man
or woman; one into which your own glance sinks, as
it were, sounding unfathomable depths of clear light.
When Jenny was aroused by conversation, or her attention was attracted in any way, she had a frank,
earnest look, straight and steady, into the eyes of the
one to whom she spoke or listened; an expression of
simple, straightforward sincerity and faith, that showed
a nature utterly free from guile in itself or suspicion
of it in others. There was something in this look of
hers, joined to her low, clear voice, that attracted
Bettle as he hadnever been attracted before.
He was a good-looking fellow himself, moderately
tall, broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, with welldeveloped muscles, and a rather small head, surmounted
by light curly hair, and with bluish-gray eyes, in which,
though their expression usually was mild and quiet,
there shone now and then, as he talked of the -war
and its events, a light, quick and flashing, that showed
that there was a world of reckless daring beneath that
quiet exterior. He was about twenty-three years of
age, and had satisfied himself, or rather the thought
had slid into his mind almost insensibly, that Jenny
2*




18         TIIE QUA KER PARTISANS.
must be somewhere from eighteen to twenty. I am
afraid that something else was sliding into his mindor his heart-along with this calculation, quite as insensibly, and taking a good deal firmer hold of it. At
any rate, unconsciously to himself, his conversation
was soon directed almost exclusively to Jenny, who
sat opposite him, looking into his eyes with that earnest look I have mentioned, which seemed, without any
design on her part, to read what he was saying, even
before he had uttered the words.
What feelings occupied her mind I will not undertake to say, or whether any but the curiosity and interest a maiden might naturally feel in listening to
and conversing with a young and good-looking stranger
who was talking upon subjects in which she felt a great
interest.
Women do not fall in love as promptly as men do.
Sophisticated or unsophisticated, trained in the m6nage
of society or growing up artless and unsuspecting in
the seclusion of home, they keep a better guard upon
their feelings, acting unconsciously from the instinct
of danger, —a faculty entirely apart from reasoning or
judgment, working independently of both, and always
on the alert in the weak when thrown into collision
with natures stronger and more aggressive than their
own.
It was so with Jenny Sanford. She was interested
in Bettle; she could not help admiring him, and contrasting the gentleness and courtesy of his manner,
not only toward herself, but toward her aged parents,
with the hearty but frequently uncouth demonstrations of the young men of the neighborhood, who, up
to this time, were all she had seen of male society.




TITE QUA KER PARTISA N'S.          19
Women do not like feminine men, though they frcquently make them useful; but they do like gentle
ones, who treat them as reasonable creatures, and not
as children or playthings; who show them a manly
deference and respect, instead of obsequious servility
on the one hand, or a coarse assumption of superiority on the other.
I said that Jenny was interested in Bettle; and,
after the group had separated for the night, she found
herself recalling his look and voice with a vague, indefinite kind of pleasure, such as she had never before
experienced, and which she neither understood nor
thought of analyzing. Even had she possessed experience enough to do so, she would at this stage, with
her Quaker feelings, and principles even more powerful, have shrunk from  the thought of becoming attached to a soldier, and one whose sole errand in the
neighborhood was to procure men for a purpose which
she had always been taught to abhor as unrighteous
and abominable.
No, Jenny was not in love, yet; but the soldier had
a share in her dreams, nevertheless.




CHAPTER  I I.
THE family were stirring next morning by sunrise;
a, good old country fashion, which we in the city have
pretty thoroughly got rid of.  In fact, here, unless
your business calls you up early,-and when you have
enough of it for that in the city it is very apt to keep
you up late too, thus cutting off your sleep at both
ends, —I really can't see any sound reason for getting
up much before breakfast-time.
In the country, had we been with Bettle, as he
walked slowly along the road toward a little bridge
which he had crossed the evening before, just before
reaching the house, we might have seen what he did:
the thin morning clouds floating tranquilly over the
horizon, in the glowing light, golden-edged below and
rose-tinted above, relieved against the pale blue of the
eastern sky; the wide sky itself, with no bound but
the distant horizon, to which his gaze traveled over
rolling hills, crowned with solemn old woods; over
quiet valleys, dotted with trees in little groves, or
standing in lonely majesty; over the calmly flowing
Brandywine and its tributary streams, flashing where
the rising light glanced from them, like mirrors held
toward the sun. We might have seen old Deborah's
Rock, with its seamed and rugged face all aglow with
the flood of sunlight which poured directly upon it,
lighting up even the dusk and gloom beneath the pent(20)




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             21
house crag that projected over the water from its foot.
We might have heard the wild birds singing by the
thousand among the orchard-trees, in the chestnut
groves, and the bushes which fringed the banks of the
little river; all warbling at once, each in his own time
and at his own pitch, but all, somehow, blending in a
wonderful harmony; and the chattering of the blackbirds from the willows that fringed the run, on whose
edge he stood listening to the musical murmur of the
water; while from the topmost sprig of the solitary
hickory-tree, where he sat with his head knowingly
slewed half around, watching Bettle's motions out of
one bright eye, the crow shouted hoarsely his uncouth
welcome to the sunrise; from the meadow below rose
the lark's long, liquid whistle, and from every farm
the cock's harsh, rasping call.
If we get up by sunrise in the city, what have we?
The sun does not rise on the city at all. He only gets
up from behind the houses or the end of the long street,
a mile or two off. We have no crisp, dewy air full of
the fresh, sweet scent of new-mown hay and cloverblossoms; but, instead, a smoky atmosphere, with a
chilly dampness, impregnated with villainous coal-gas,
and heavy with a vague, sooty smell, as though it had
been cooked over-night and been slightly scorched in
the process.
For the song of birds, the lowing of cattle, and the
booming of the musical cow-bells, we have the rumbling of bakers' carts, the rattling of milk- and marketwagons over the cobble-stones, and the rumble of
street-cars, enlivened by the infernal howl of the
factory steam-whistles pealing and echoing all around.
Decidedly, getting up early in the city, merely for the




22         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
sake of getting up, don't pay; and that, after all,
where business is king, is the ultimatum in all questions.
Bettle sat upon the rail of the bridge, watching the
glancing water as it shot away beneath him, and
abandoned himself passively to the influence of the
scene around him. Many thoughts passed through
his mind.  Old recollections of childhood crowded
back upon him, some quaint and grotesque, bringing
a faint smile upon his face as they trooped fantastically before him; some tender and solemn, full of that
indefinite sadness which is not sorrow nor regret, but
resembles them only
"As the mist resembles rain."
In all these thoughts, Jenny Sanford somehow was
present in some incomprehensible, though seemingly
natural, connection. From some power of association
and sympathy, he felt as though he had always known
her. She was the embodiment of many a boyish vision
and romantic day-dream.
She it was, he knew now, whom, under Protean shapes,
he had defended and saved in all manner of imminent
perils, in his dreams. She it was whom he had rescued, single-handed, from a troop of banditti, in a horrible, dark, lonely forest-whom he had carried from
the burning house, where the fire was raging beneath
him, and the charred beams bent and cracked beneath
his tread, %nd the reeling walls gaped open, and the
red flame licked out through the fissures as he sprang
over the fallen door into the street and bore her off
triumphantly amid the clanking of the engines and
the shouts of the toiling firemen.  She it was for




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.           23
whose sake-At this moment his reveries were cut
short by the horn blowing for breakfast. The sound
recalled him at once from the delicious dream-land in
which he had been wandering, and he walked slowly
back to the house, where he found the meal prepared
and the famnily seated at the table, including Mike,
who had pretty well recovered from his last evening's
fright, and two young men, one apparently about his
own age, the other about sixteen, whom Jenny introduced as her brothers; explaining their absence the
evening before by saying that they had been helping
a neighbor get in his harvest, and had stayed overnight.
Jenny looked as fresh as the morning itself, and
blushed just a little as Bettle greeted her, for she
recollected something of her dreams, in which the
young soldier had figured somewhat prominently.
Bettle had recovered his faculties, and with them
his cool ease of manner; and no one would have suspected that the frank, off-hand, careless man had in
his nature the capability of such a reverie as the breakfast-horn had roused him from. He talked to the old
people about the harvest and the prospect of crops,
told the young men anecdotes of the war and its stirring incidents, talked with Jenny of the beauty of the
country around, inquired of Mike concerning his bones,
and offered to introduce him to Roland,-an offer which
Mike declined with a grimace, —and, by the time the
meal was over, had the whole family as completely at
home with him as though they had known him for
years.
After breakfast, he went to the stable and curried
and rubbed down his horse, —a thing which every




24         TIiE QUAKER PARTISANS.
American officer in those days was expected to be
able to do as well as his men, or better,-while the two
sons stood by, watching with admiration the beauty
of the animal, and the skill with which his master
groomed him; and Mike stood at a more respectful
distance, eyeing the horse rather nervously, especially
as the latter, though he stood perfectly still, once or
twice turned his eyes toward him, and laid his ears
back.
"You had better keep out of his sight for a day or
two, Mike," said Bettle; "he hasn't forgotten last
night's work yet, and he may attack you some time
when I'm not near."
" Why, what's the matter with Mike and the beast?"
inquired Mahlon, the younger son.
"Oh, nothing much. Mike undertook to lash him
last evening; Roland didn't like it altogether, and
Mike had to run for it," said Bettle, throwing the
saddle upon the horse's back and fastening the girths.
"I would like to go to that large rock yonder; can
you tell me where I can ford the stream?"
"Yes," said John, the elder brother; "there's a ford
where the Lancaster road yonder crosses the creek;
but Mahlon, here, will go with thee, if thee would
like company, and show thee wherever thee wants
to go.'
"Nothing could be better," said Bettle, "if you
would like to go," turning to Mahlon, who he saw
was eager to go.
" Oh, yes, I'd like to go, right well," said the boy;
"I'm ready for anything; father says, anything but
work; but I'm always ready for that, too, when there's
nothing better on hand. Anyhow, I can push John,




TITE QUAKER PARTISANS.            25
here, in the wheat-field, if I can't cut as wide a swath.
Just wait till I saddle my horse, and we'll be off."
In a few minutes more Bettle and his companion
were cantering briskly along the hard, level road,
which skirts the foot of a steep wooded hill, the long
shadows capering fantastically before them on its beaten
surface.
Entering the stream a rod or two above the point
where Buffington's bridge now stretches its solid stone
bulk across, they reached the other side, stepping on
shore, not, as now, into a nest of workshops, the rattle
of whose cranks and wheels, enlivened by the monotonous "bumpety-bang" of a tilt-hammer, scares all
the peace from the beautiful river, but into the quiet
road again, which, however, they soon left for a bridlepath which led off to the left, through the woods, toward the rock.
Leaving their horses at the back of the rock, tied to
a sapling, the two companions proceeded along the
slope until they reached the top, where Bettle's observant eye noticed at once the peculiar formation of
the top, and the facilities for holding it against an
enemy by posting thirty or forty men among the scattered rocks and behind the inequalities of the ground;
also that it commanded a good view of a considerable
stretch of road to the eastward.
"This will do," said Bettle; "we could hold this
place against an army. Do the people in the neighborhood often come up here?" he inquired, turning to
Mahlon.
" No," said the boy; "I don't think anybody comes
here once a month. They never come if they can help
it, and never stay long when they do."
3




26         TILE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
"Why?" said Bettle.
"'Cause they're afeard of Deborah's ghost. They
say it lives under the big rock that sticks out over the
water."
" She must find it rather damp," said Bettle, quietly.
The boy glanced at him with a half-quizzical look.
"Then thee don't believe in ghosts?"
"Not much," said Bettle, coolly. "I'll wait till I
see bne that I can't show to be something else. But
who was this Deborah, and what brings her ghost
here?"
" Oh, it was in the old times, when the Injins was
about here; she jumped off the edge of the rock one
day,'cause the fellow she wanted wouldn't marry
her, I b'lieve."
"Well," said Bettle, "when I see her, I'll ask her
how it happened. Is there any path by which horses
can be got up here?"
"Not easy, unless you go back and come up the
ridge; it's too steep, and the trees are too thick. But
what would thee want to bring horses up for? does
thee think of makin' a randyvoo of the old rock?"
" I want to see if it would do for that," said Bettle.
"If there was any way for horses to travel up and
down, and no danger of the place being visited, it
might do for that purpose sometimes. At any rate,"
he added, half soliloquizing, "it would be a capital
place to retreat to if we were hard pushed."
After a little more examination of the ground, Bettle
came to the conclusion that it was practicable for
horses, even, on an emergency, up the side of the hill,
though it was a thing to be done only in utter desperation.




TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.             27
Descending, they remounted their horses, and rod
to the house of another farmer, about two miles off,
where Mahlon assured his companion that he would
find at least three able-bodied men who were ready to
enlist.
" How do?" said the farmer, as they rode up to the
barn, where all hands were busy unloading a haywagon. "How do, Mahlon?  How's the folks? Got
through hayin'?"
"Yes," answered the boy, " all in the mow."
"Who's this friend with thee?" inquired the old
man, who, though not a Quaker, either in principle or
practice, had, from long association, insensibly adopted
their phraseology.
Mahlon whispered in the farmer's ear, when the
latter, seizing Bettle's hand, shook it warmly, exclaiming," That's right, that's right I Thee's come to the very
place. I s'pose I'm too old for service, ain't I? what
does thee think?"
"Not too old to do good service, yet; but ours is
of a kind I should be sorry to put an old man at. It
is too rough and helter-skelter a life for any but young
men who have some spare strength and vitality to
draw upon."
"Well, may-be I'd better stay home and look after
the old woman and the gals, for they're gettin' a little
skeary with all this war news; but I've got three
boys here that I know'ud ruther be handlin' a bagnet
than a pitchfork, or swingin' a broadsword than a
scythe."
"Are they good riders?" inquired Bettle, glancing
up at the door of the hay-mow, in which the "boys"




28         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
were busily engaged in tramping down the hay as it
was thrown in. "Can they stick on a horse wherever
they touch him, right side or wrong side up? We'll
have wild riding to do."
"I'll warn't'em.  I'll war'nt'em," said the old
man. " They've all three'most growed up on horseback. Boys, come down here; I want ye."
The three young men leaped out of the window
upon the load, and slid thence to the ground, light,
active forms, with the broad, square shoulders which a
life of work gives to men, and gathered around their
father and Bettle, answering his pleasant "goodmorning" cordially enough.
"Now, look here, boys," said the father; "here's
the chance you've all been wishing for. This-what
did thee say was thy name?"
"I didn't say anything was," said Bettle, smiling;
"you didn't give me a chance. My name is William
Bettle. I am one of the lieutenants of a troop of
irregular cavalry under the command of Captain Ellis
Clayton, a worthy member, like myself and a good
many others of the troop, of the Society of Friends."
"A Quaker!" exclaimed father and sons together.
"A Quaker officer of a Quaker troop! That's somethin'
new. Does Tommy Sanford know that?" added the
old man.
"Yes," answered Bettle; and then gave them  a
short description of the separation, as he had done to
Thomas Sanford.
" That's a fine beast of thine,"' said one of the sons.
"Are all the horses in the troop equal to him?"
"Not quite; but all that we have are good. We
couldn't get along with second-rate horses."




TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.             29
"The boys have good beasts," said the farmer;
"they are all three-parts blooded, and as sure-footed
and active as cats."
" That's just what we want," said Bettle. "Now,
let us understand each other exactly: we want just
the kind of men I take you to be,-strong, active, fearless, ready for anything, and willing, if they join us
at all, to join for the war, whether it be long or short.
For pay, I'm afraid I must promise you more hard
knocks than hard dollars; they are a good deal more
plentiful.'So far, all who are in the troop have
equipped themselves at their own expense, and are
able and willing to take their chance of pay when they
can get it. Now, I have been perfectly frank with you.
What do you say?"
"Why, I say," said the old man, "that I'll undertake to equip'em, and keep'em equipped, if they
can't do it themselves, just as long as they choose to
stay. "
"Well, gentlemen," said Bettle, "may I calculate
upon you?"
"We are willin', if we can go under thy orders,"
said the eldest brother.
"Of course, if you would rather," said Bettle;
"each lieutenant has a division under his separate
command, though all are subject to the captain's
orders. You can come into mine, if you wish, as it
isn't full; but you will have the hardest and most
dangerous service to perform, along with the rest
of us."
"That's just what we're ready for," said the brother
who acted as spokesman.  "I reckon thee won't find
us far behind the rest."
3*




30         THIE QUAKER PARTIS-ANS.
"Very well; I'll depend upon you," said Bettle.
"Now, if you can persuade any other good, hearty
fellows —you know about what I want-to join you,
you can help me as well as-your country. But I must
go; I have several more I want to see to-day."
So saying, Bettle bade them  good-morning, and
cantered away with his young companion, while the
farmer and his sons stood looking at the light, springy
movements of Roland, with an admiration which was
mingled, in the minds of the young men, with a slight
degree of bewilderment at the suddenness with which
they found themselves enlisted for a war of very uncertain length and sufficiently doubtful result.
"Well, father, what's thee think?" inquired one of
the sons.
"A Quaker troop of horse, with a Quaker captain.
Well, I never!" said the old man. "What do I think?
Why, I think the cause that has made that sort of
fightin' men is a good one, and must succeed."
The men returned to their work for the present, while
Bettle and Mahlon pursued their journey, visiting a
number of persons in the course of the day, with
varying but, on the whole, tolerable success. At any
rate, he succeeded in getting the promise of two more
to join the troop, and returned to Thomas Sanford's
in the afternoon, pretty well satisfied with his day's
work.
He found it quite refreshing after his warm ride to
meet Jenny again, looking as fresh as she had done ill
the morning, and with the faintest possible little blush
upon her face as she asked him " how many soldiers
he had caught?"
"Only five," he answered, laughing. "If I had a




TE Q UAKIER PAR TISANS.            31
tempting bait, I might have done better; but I have to
fish with a bare hook."
" How does thee mean?"
"Only, that I don't want to deceive anybody and
be told of it afterward; so I tell them all just what
they have to expect, and then let them decide."
" That's right," said Martha, her mother; "I like
that in thee. But thee's not going to persuade my
boys to go, is thee? I don't feel as if it would be
right. "
" Not on any account, unless thee and -" he
glanced at Jenny, who was looking eagerly at him,
"not unless you are all willing."
"Oh, no, I can't spare my boys; thee mustn't think
of them; it would kill me to lose them."
" Many a mother has lost her boys in this sad war,
Martha," said the old man, solemnly, "and many
another will lose'em before it's over. Why should we
keep back ours if they're needed for the work?"
" It's no use talking, Tommy," said she; "I can't
consent. Thee won't take them, will thee?' she added,
imploringly, to Bettle.
" Make thyself easy," said Bettle: " no word of mine
shall lead them off; and if they should go without thy
free consent, it will be because I can't persuade them
to stay at home; I've no wish to leave hard thoughts
or sorrow behind me, where I have been so kindly met
as I have been here."
There was a very eloquent look of gratitude on
Jenny's face, as she turned it toward the speaker,
which said a great deal, though her lips said nothing;
and perhaps Bettle understood it quite as well.
This point being disposed of, and Martha's mind at




32         TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.
rest, the evening was spent very much as the previous
one had been.
The next morning was a repetition of the one I have
already described, with the exception of the reverie on
the bridge, which was not repeated.
Bettle remained in the neighborhood about two
weeks; not spending all the time, however, at Thomas
Sanford's; old Azariah Woodward,-better known,
both to himself and his neighbors, as "'Riah Wood'r't,"
-the farmer who had so unceremoniously turned his
three sons over to Bettle to be made troopers of, having
insisted upon keeping him as a guest for several days,
effectually backing his arguments in favor thereof, at
the beginning, by coolly locking Roland in the stable
one afternoon, and sending his man to Sanford's after
his rider's portmanteau.  Most evenings, however,
found Bettle at Sanford's. He spent the two weeks
in diligently gathering recruits, and training them in
the peculiar discipline of the troop, of which he, as indeed were all the lieutenants, was as perfect a master
as the captain himself.
He met all sorts of people in his researches; Tories,
with whom he argued good-humoredly, whenever they
would let him; though he had felt it incumbent upon
him, on one occasion, at a raising, where, without any
special intention of the kind when he began, he found
himself making a regular speech, to take one of this
class by the waistband of his breeches and the slack
of his shirt, and pitch him into the Brandywine, for
calling him "a bloody cantankerous rebelizin' varmint. "
The fellow, who was full twenity pounds heavier than
himself, and had been the bully of all gatherings of the
kind, scrambled out of the water, shook himself, and,




TITE QUAKER PARTISANS.            33
simply remarking, "Mister, you're not a bad hand at
a hyst," betook himself to another part of the ground,
amid the uproarious laughter of the crowd. He found
men who were anxious to enlist, only they didn't exactly like that particular kind of service; men who
made it a simple question of pay; men who were well
enough satisfied with King George, though they would
have no objection to this independence if somebody
else would take the trouble to get it for them; men
who were "on the fence;" who "didn't know'zactly
what to say; hadn't thunk much about it; reckoned
things'ud come round about right, anyhow, after bit;'ud see'bout it," etc. He found, however, in addition
to those he had procured the first day, half a dozen (of
whom the ducking-episode at the raising had procured
him four, on the spot) of just that restless, adventurous
temperament to which the irregular service he promised
them was especially adapted.
He had now eleven able-bodied young men, all well
mounted-this he made a sine qua non —and armed,
some with rifles, some with fowling-pieces.
Satisfied, by this time, that he had possession of all
the patriotism of the neighborhood,-all that was likely
to be demonstrative, at least, —he prepared to return to
Philadelphia with his small force.
As I said before, he had found himself somehow in
Jenny Sanford's company almost every evening; and,
whatever he may have thought at first, when he was
about to leave her for an indefinite time he had no
doubt whatever as to the nature of his feelings. He
loved Jenny Sanford. There was no mistake about
it; and he felt pretty well satisfied that she knew it as
c




34         TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.
well as he did. He felt as little doubt that his love
was frankly and freely returned.
True, no such word had passed between them; but
words are not necessary to an understanding between
hearts that feel and answer each other's mute yearnings for sympathy.
Sudden! did you say?  Love is always sudden,
lady. I said before that women do not fall in love
as promptly as men do; but when you first discovered
that you loved your husband that is, or is to be, I care
not which, were you not conscious of a feeling in your
heart that was never there before? Something new
and strange, and of a wondrous power, to which you
had been, up to that moment, a stranger?
Well, the day came. The new recruits were waiting
on the Lancaster road, and Bettle stood with Jenny at
the gate of the old farm-house to say farewell. His
voice shook, in spite of himself, and his hand trembled
as he held Jenny's in his grasp, and spoke the parting
word. As he galloped to the great road, and the party
moved along toward the city, she stood, with the
family, watching him until her eyes were dim with
the tears that would come; and she hurried into the
house, and to her own room, to hide them.




CHAPTER III.
WHIILE Bettle and his men are on their way to the
city, I may as well go back, according to promise, to
give some account of the Free Quakers, and how there
happened to be such a thing as a Quaker troop, at
least so far as regarded a good many of its members,
under a captain and lieutenants all of the same peaceful persuasion.
Well, in the latter part of "First Month" in the
year 1775, there was divisioan in the council of Friends,
and the Yearly Meeting, then in session at Philadelphia, was unpeaceful, with a spirit of dissension, and
unquiet, with discussions often protracted into the
night, as to the course the society should take in the
war that had already begun.
Most of the members, particularly the elder portion,
were inclined to oppose the course matters were taking,
not only in obedience to their abstract peace principles,
but because they were, in reality, in favor of the established government, believing that, bad as it was, it
was better than rebellion and the anarchy which, there
was reason to fear, would follow it.
At the beginning of the excitement, while the action of the Colonies was confined to respectful petition
and remonstrance, they had been almost unanimously
upon their side; but now, when men were beginning
to talk boldly of armed resistance, of throwing off at
(35)




,36        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
once and forever the authority of the mother-country,
the case assumed a different aspect.
The most perplexing part of the business was, that
the idea of fighting had actually found its way into the
society itself, and the echoes of the popular voice were
making themselves heard within the walls of the quiet
Quaker meeting from the lips of the younger and more
hot-blooded members, in tones which startled the grave
conservative elders
There was a most unmistakable disposition on the
part of some of these younger men to side with the
stirring proclamation which had been recently issued
by the Convention; and a lamentable want of reverence
for the principles laid down in the " Discipline" was
manifested in the remarks which they took upon themselves to make concerning the duty of "Friends" in
the present crisis. The Discipline, however, prevailed,
and on the 24th of the same month a "Testimony"
upon the subject was prepared and published, urging
members to " discountenance and avoid every measure
tending to excite disaffection to the king, as supreme
magistrate, or to the legal authority of his government," and publicly declaring " against every usurpation of power and authority in opposition to the laws
and government, and against all combinations, insurrections, and illegal assemblies."
This gave such offense to the minority, that they at
once issued their Testimony in a very practical way,
by summarily withdrawing from all connection with
the meeting: they still retained the title of Friends, as
a general designation, but, by way of distinction, assumed, or had put upon them,-it is uncertain, at this
distance of time, which,-the title of " Free Quakers."




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             37
However this may be, they afterward adopted it, and
so designated themselves on the tablet which still remains in the pediment of the meeting-house they built
for themselves at the southwest corner of Fifth and
Arch Streets, and which is now occupied by the Apprentices' Library.
A number of them afterward gave a still more practical evidence of their sincerity by forming themselves
into a military company, which was known by the
name of the "Quaker Blues."  Whether they were
drilled in "plain" language, or whether their drill-master ever indulged himself in swearing at them while
they remained an " awkward squad," as drill-masters
have a bad habit of doing, I am not able to say. With
these, however, we have nothing to do.
In addition to this company, many individuals employed themselves actively in the contest, according to
their various gifts; some in gathering and carrying
intelligence, some furnishing clothing and supplies to
the troops, some contenting themselves with busily
talking treason in a general way, while others acted it
out boldly by doing a very fair share of hard fighting
whenever occasion offered.
Among the most active and energetic of those who
had thus abandoned their peaceful professions, and had
lent their voice and example to the spirit of strife and
resistance, were Bettle and his cousin, Ellis Clayton,
the captain of the troop, whom I have already mentioned. Both had been born and trained in the tenets
of the society, after its straitest manner.  Bettle's
natural disposition, however, was headlong and reckless, though under tolerable control when not too far
roused; but Clayton, though utterly fearless, a.a;l
4




38         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
never recognizing danger to himself or his troop as an
obstacle to anything that his judgment told him should
be done, had none of the headlong, restless bravery
which delighted in and sought danger for its own sake.
The grand elements in his character were, unshaken
calmness under all circumstances, a presence of mind
which there was no confusing, backed by a sober determination and an iron will that held their ground
with a dogged composure against which furious attack
and steady pressure alike spent themselves in vain.
His life-long training in self-command, acting upon
a nature like this, had eminently qualified him for such
a command as he now held. He had not accepted it
rashly, nor without due consideration; but, after calmly
weighing the matter, had come to the conclusion that
it was his duty to fight, and he straightway went about
performing his duty.  He was at this time about
twenty-eight years of age, but with the staid, grave
manner of a man much older.
Among his most intimate companions were. Bettle
and four others,  all younger than himself, and all
belonging to the same society. These five men organized themselves into a troop consisting at first entirely
of officers,-Clayton having first been unanimously
chosen captain, and having in turn appointed the
others his lieutenants: this done, all immediately
began the work of raising the troop in earnest.
This was a work of time, not only from the severity
of the requirements as to qualification, for Clayton
had set out from the first with the determination to
make his troop one of picked men, who should all
come fully up to his standard, not for the purpose of
making a fine display, but that it should be thoroughly




TIHE QUAKER PAR TISANS.             39
effective; but also, most of all, for the reason that it
was to be made up of volunteers, who, as Bettle, in
the preceding chapter, explained to his recruits, should
equip at their own expense, and take their chance of pay.
They were carefully trained by Clayton himself,
each new recruit, as he came in, having the advantage of the example of the older hands, so that, after
having got enough together to form a kind of nucleus
of discipline, he had comparatively little trouble in
training them.
This training, of both men and horses, was directed
to making them as effective as possible for both regular and irregular service,-for fighting, either alone or
together, as detached skirmishers, or, when desirable,
as a part of the regular line. For this latter service,
however, Clayton, who, grave and sober as he was,
preferred to be his own master, had little affection,
and never subjected himself to it long at a time.
It was just such bands as this (for Clayton was by
no means the only partisan leader in the war) that
performed some of the most brilliant exploits in the
war of Independence.
They have found no place in history beyond mere
cursory allusions, from the fact that they led to no
great or decisive results affecting the ultimate issue of
the contest, and therefore had no claim to room upon
its pages.
Their service was of a rambling, desultory character,
involving a great deal of hard fighting, a rough and
exposed life, and calling for an unceasing exercise of
what is familiarly known as "mother wit"-that valuable faculty which tells men what to do, in an emergency, just when the emergency comes-in managing




40         TI'HE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
or guarding against surprises, and in eluding or diverting pursuit where fighting was not deemed advisable.
These parties, when not actually attached to the
main body, amused themselves by various irregular
escapades, such as beating up the enemy's quarters at
divers untimely and unseasonable hours between midnight and dawn, setting the whole c'amp in turmoil
with firing and running in of sentries, rattling of
drums, yelling of bugles, officers shouting all manner
of unintelligible orders, half-dressed men hurrying to
their stations, horses neighing and plunging, while in
the midst of the hurly-burly a body of twenty or thirty
horsemen shouting like a hundred, and magnified by
the darkness and confusion into twice as many, would
skirr through the camp, slashing, shooting, and trampling down all who stood in their way, and before
anything like order could be restored or any effectual
resistance offered, would be out of sight and reach, the
fierce clatter of hoofs and steel scabbards gradually
dying away in the gloom, leaving the discomfited
enemy to turn in again, sending a storm of unsavory blessings after the uneasy Yankees who couldn't
let tired men enjoy their sleep in peace.
When nothing better was on hand, they were ranging the country, intercepting supplies intended for the
British, cutting off foraging-parties, at times quartering themselves on the Tory farmers and doing a little
foraging among them on their own account; at others,
bivouacking in the woods; now here, now there; in
their movements as rapid and unreliable as swallows,
as silent and unseen as the terrible copperhead, and
with a stroke as deadly.
During all the spring and part of the summer of




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.             41
1777, Philadelphia had been ip a state of anxious excitement in view of the evident intention of the British
general, who was then stationed with his army in
New York, to possess himself of the city.
Washington was holding northern New Jersey,
doing little in the way of active service, but warily
watching Sir William Howe's motions, baffling every
attempt of the latter either to draw him into a battle
or to deceive him into withdrawing his forces from the
post they occupied and thus give him a clear passage
across New Jersey.
Sham deserters from the enemy came into Washington's camp, bringing cunningly devised fables about
northern marches of the British; his own scouts and
spies lent themselves, wittingly or unwittingly, to these
attempts; and letters were sent by messengers who
were instructed to get themselves intercepted, containing false intelligence of intended movements.
Washington held his ground, satisfied that Philadelphia, and Philadelphia only, was the point to be protected.
During all this -excitement, Clayton was busily engaged in filling up his troop and preparing them for
service. All his lieutenants were out in different directions; though, as Bettle is more intimately connected
with my story, he is the only one whom I have followed.
At the time he left Thomas Sanford's, however, the
others had all got in with their recruits, and the troop
was nearly full. From the time of his arrival with his
eleven men, who just made up the hundred to which
Clayton had limited his force, the work of training men
and horses-and severe training it was-was diligently
pursued, until the early part of August.
4*




42         THE Q UIAKER PARTISANS.
At this time Washington received unquestionable
information that the British had embarked, and that
on the 23d of July the fleet had left Sandy Hook
and was moving southward: he immediately marched
in the same direction, keeping out reconnoitering parties in advance to watch the coast, until he was informed
that the fleet was off the capes of Chesapeake Bay.
Upon receiving this intelligence, he marched at once
for Chester by way of Philadelphia, reaching the
latter on the morning of the 24th of August, marching with his whole force through the city in order to
encourage the Whigs with a display of his strength,
and then moving directly to Chester, where he arrived
the -same evening. And while the doomed army of
eleven thousand men, half of them raw militia, was
marching southward on that peaceful Sabbath morning, the farmers of Turkey Point, together with some
fifteen hundred of the Pennsylvania and Delaware militia, were watching the debarkation of seventeen thousand trained veterans under Cornwallis and Knyphausen.
The American army entered Philadelphia at the
upper end of Front Street, and marched down to Chestnut, up which they turned and proceeded westward.
As they passed the State-House, a company of about
a hundred horsemen, which was drawn up in the meadow on the north side of the street, was put in motion,
and, wheeling in solid column into the street in the
rear, fell into the line of march in a grave silence which
contrasted strongly with the vociferous cheering all
around them, through which was heard the loud clanging of the old Libertyv Bell in the steeple.
They were all young men, ranging apparently from




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             43
twenty to thirty-five years of age, splendidly mounted,
and sitting in their saddles with that easy, at-home
look which is only acquired by a life-long practice in
riding.
As they wheeled into the line, a new hurrah broke
forth from the crowd, and a boy's -shrill voice yelled," Hooray for the fightin' Quakers!"
The words caught the.ear of Washington, who was
riding with his staff a.short distance in the rear of the
army, and he sent forward an aid to inquire into the
meaning of it and ascertain who these silent volunteers
were. The officer accordingly rode to the head of the
company, and asked," Who commands this troop?"
"Ellis Clayton," was the answer given by the person addressed, who was a young man in a drab coat,
such as Quakers wore then, not differing materially in
shape from that of the officer himself, but destitute of
any ornament whatever. The principal officers of the
troop wore similar coats, and the ordinary felt hats of
the time, looped up at the sides, and, as well as their
leader, were manifestly Quakers. The only thing about
the leader's dress to distinguish him from these was a
blue silk sash which he wore about his waist, while his
officers wore only plain black belts. The rest of the
troop wore an indescribable variety of costumes.
"Well," said the officer, "who may Ellis Clayton
be?'"
"The captain of this troop," was the laconic answer.
"So I suppose," said he, dryly; "and what regiment
may the troop belong to?"
"None; the troop is its own regiment."
"You are pleased to speak in riddles, sir," said the




44         THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
officer. "Will you do me the favor to explain yourself?"
"The explanation is very simple; we are here to
fight, but we must fight in our own way, under our
own orders, without being in any way attached to the
regular line, except at our own discretion."
" I doubt if that will be permitted; his excellency is
not fond of anybody's discretion but his own, and will
require you to join some regiment."
" Thee may tell the general that we are ready to
withdraw at any moment from the line if he is not
satisfied with our terms; if we fight, we do so without
being hampered by camp regulations or general orders,
except when we see fit to subject ourselves to them
temporarily."
"You are tolerably independent," said the officer,
"and a model of conciseness. Will you ride back with
me and explain yourself to the commander?"
" Willingly," said Clayton.
So they rode back to the commander, and the aidede-camp reported substantially what he had learned.
" How many men have you?" inquired Washington.
"One hundred," was the answer.
"And I'll say this for them, your excellency," exclaimed the aid, " that I never saw a hundred men together that looked more like doing service; and the
horses"-he had been eyeing the whole troop critically
while talking to Ellis- Clayton —" the worst of them
would be a fitting mount for a general."
"As you are not willing to join the line, sir, what
kind of service do you propose to undertake?" asked
the general.
"We propose, with thy permission," —agrave smile




THE Q UA KER PARTISANS.           4 5
flitted across Washington's face at the word " thy,""we propose, with thy permission, to act as irregular
cavalry; as scouts; as outliers, free to come and go
as we please."
" You are asking a dangerous license; what guarantee have I that you will not carry intelligence of my
movements to the enemy, or act against me in some
other way?"
"I don't think thee would ask any guarantee after
the first battle; but I have prepared myself for this
objection."
He handed an unsealed note to Washington, who
opened it and read as follows:
" The bearer, Captain Ellis Clayton, is a true and
stanch patriot, as I know from long personal acquaintance with him. His own fidelity, and that of those
for whom he vouches, may be relied upon.
" JOHN JAY."
" I am satisfied, sir," said Washington, handing him
back the note, " and am willing to accept your service
on your conditions; and if you and your men are active
and faithful, you may be of great value. You shall be
free to come and go as you please, understanding, however, that while you may be in camp, or within the
lines, you will be subject to my orders."
The captain looked doubtful.
" Outside the camp, your movements will not be interfered with, nor controlled in any way (except,
always, when you may have been sent out by the officer in command for the time being), unless I hear that
your men have been guilty of some unwarrantable excess: in that case they will be controlled very promptly
and very much to the purpose. Now, sir, we under



46         THE  Q UAKER PAR TISANS.
stand each other: if you are content, join your troop;
if not, there is time to withdraw."
" I am content," said Captain Clayton; and, touching
his hat a little awkwardly, as if unused to such motions, he galloped back to the head of his troop.
"This is a curious addition to our forces," said
Washington, turning to General Greene, who was
riding beside him. " What do you think of them?"
" Whatever a Quaker feels' a call' to do," answered
Greene, who was of Quaker stock himself, "he is very
apt to do thoroughly. Your excellency may depend
upon it, there will be hard fighting wherever these men
are at work."
The army had by this time passed through the built
portion of the city, and the advanced guard had already
passed the pontoon over the Schuylkill, and in the
course of an hour or two more the whole body had
crossed, and were formed on the other side.
The thousands of citizens who had accompanied
them to the east bank gave a parting cheer as the
army resumed its march, and then returned to their
homes.
That evening the army encamped at Chester




CHAPTER IV.
THE next morning a messenger came to Ellis Clayton's troop from the general, requiring the captain's
presence at head-quarters.
He repaired thither at once, and found Washington
alone.
"I have need of your services, Captain Clayton,"
said he. "You will leave the camp at once, and reconnoiter the country between here and the Chesapeake carefully. I received information last night that
the enemy had landed at a place called Turkey Point,
at the mouth of Elk River. You will go there, keeping your eyes open on the way, hover around in the
neighborhood of the enemy, and send me as good an
account as you can procure of their force and probable
movements. Also see how the people generally stand
affected. "
"Does thee wish me to take the whole troop?"
asked Clayton.
"By no means. So large a body would only encumber your movements. A dozen or twenty of your
best men will be ample. You will have to detach
some of them, occasionally, to carry intelligence. Avoid
observation as much as possible."
"I think it would be better to have all at work in
different directions," said Clayton. "We can go in
separate bands of about twenty each, under the com(47)




48         THE QUAKER PARTISAiNS.
mand of my officers, each of whom can manage quite
as well alone as under my orders. We can co-operate
with each other then, if need be, without being suspected; and if an opportunity should offer to strike a
blow, we can do it effectually in a body."
"Well, be it so," said the general; "you seem to
have a system of tactics of your own. Do the best
you can; but be careful not to be taken."
" We'll look out for that," said Clayton; and, leaving the house, he hurried to the quarters of his troop
to give the necessary orders.
In two hours the troop had left the camp, and were
on the march down the road to Wilmington.
When within about two miles of the town, they
halted in a wood off the road, and Clayton called one
of his lieutenants aside.
" Levi," said he, "it will be necessary for the troop
to separate here, in order to avoid observation. Let
them divide into squads of. from ten to twenty, and
scatter along the roads between here and Elk, and
pick up all the information they can. No two squads
must be seen together or know each other, unless it
becomes necessary for one of them to call in the help
of the others. Our business just now is to keep watch,
and make report of what we see; but if they should
light on any parties of the British where there are not
more noses than can be counted, I suppose they had
better try to persuade them to retreat or surrender.
If they should be foolish or obstinate enough to refuse, thee understands it may be necessary to urge
them strongly."
"I understand, sir," said the lieutenant, who, though
a Quaker, had dropped his plain language when he




THE QUAKER PARTISA4NS.            49
put on his sword-belt.  "We'll try to convince
them."
"The men know the signals; thee will impress
upon them not to be out of hearing of each other any
more than thev can help; and now I am going on alone,"
said Clayton, divesting himself of his arms, with the
exception of a pair of small pistols which he concealed
in his breast.
"Why, where are you going, captain?" inquired
Levi, in amazement.
"Right into the heart of the British camp: they
won't suspect a plain Friend of any evil intention,"
said he, with a smile, "and there's the place to get
information."
So saying, Ellis Clayton rode off in a quiet jog-trot,
his horse, with drooping neck and tail, looking like
nothing but an ordinary farm-beast, and they passed
down the road out of sight.
The lieutenant turned to the troop.
"Boys," said he, "we've got work to do. Wheeler,
Wetherill, and Bettle, each of you take twenty men
and make for Elk separately; that is, don't be seen
together; at the same time, keep within hearing of
each other's carbines."
"Are we to go through Wilmington?" inquired
Wetherill.
"No; go around it. I'm going through there myself, with the rest of the men. Keep off the roads
and in the woods as much as possible; scatter the
men while under cover, each of you, however, keeping
his own squad within hearing of a call."
"Suppose we see any of the British," said Bettle,
"what shall we do?"
5           D




'Do       ETHE QUAKER PARTISANS.
"At them, if they are not strong enough to eat you,"
said Levi.
"Very good," answered Bettle; "now we know
what to do. Come, boys." And he galloped off, followed helter-skelter by the twenty most reckless daredevils in the troop, put under his command by Clayton, who knew him well, on the good old principle of
"like master like man."
" He's going to skirt the road," said Levi. "Wetherill, do you bear off more into the country; Wheeler,
you take the other side of the road; and keep a sharp
lookout, both of you."
The two detachments moved off in the directions
indicated, and when all were fairly out of sight in the
woods,- which lined the greater part of the road on
both sides, Levi Barton, the lieutenant, put himself at
the head of the remaining forty men, and moved
briskly down the road.
When he arrived at Wilmington, he found the town
in commotion. The inhabitants were packing up their
valuables for flight, and the streets were crowded with
wagons and carts loaded with grain and household
goods, barrels of liquor, sacks of salt, worth almost its
weight in silver, beds, spinning-wheels, dry goods, and
groceries, in fact, almost everything portable, making
their way out of the town, to go up the Brandywine
toward the forks in Chester county, in order to be out
of the track of the enemy, who it was expected would,
as a matter of course, march through and plunder
Wilmington.
They were accompanied by a guard of the American light-horse, which had been detached to escort
them.




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.             51
From them Barton obtained the latest news from
the enemy's army, but heard nothing that he deemed
of sufficient importance to send to head-quarters, and
passed on his way to New Castle. He halted near
the town, it being by this time near evening, and
rested for a couple of hours, to give the men time to
eat supper and feed and groom their horses.
It was night when they resumed their march, but
the full moon was shining, and they pushed on rapidly
along through New Castle and down the road, the
mnoonlight breaking through the trees, here and there,
with uncertain gleams, and the fire-flies or " lightnin'bugs" sparkling in the air around them.
They had gone about five miles in silence, except
for the trample of the horses and the rattling of their
equipments, when Barton suddenly heard the shrill,
spiteful note of a "katydid" directly behind him. The
whole troop stopped instantly.
"What is it, Frank?" he whispered, as one of the
men silently moved forward a few steps till he reached
his side.
The man pointed, without speaking, to a light at
some distance to the left, in the woods.
"It's nothing but a farm-house," said Barton.
"Nothin' but yer granny," said Frank Lightfoot.
This was not exactly respectful from a private to
his officer; but the rank and file of such a troop were
necessarily rather rough fellows, and, while perfectly
obedient in all matters of discipline, were allowed,
and always used to its full extent, the liberty of expressing themselves in the most terse and straightforward way.
"My granny's at home, knitting stockings, I ex



52         THIE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
pect," said Barton, coolly. "What do you think it is, if
not a light in a farm-house window?"
"Too low down, an' the light's too big," said Frank,
laconically.
"I believe you are right," said Barton, taking a
second look. " Go in and see what it is; we'll stop here
unless we hear an owl-hoot: if we hear one, we'll
move on around the turn of the road; if we hear two
in succession    "
"What do you mean by' succession'?" said Frank.
"Two in a row," answered Barton, gravely.
"Why couldn't you say so, then, an' not talk so
big?"
" Very well: when we hear two calls in a row, we'll
understand that you want help; so now be off."
Frank dismounted, took off his sword, which he tied
to the horn of his saddle, and moved off cautiously
into the woods, armed only with his knife and carbine.
For about a quarter of an hour his companions sat
still, listening intently, but hearing nothing. The light
was too far off to allow them to see anything but itself
shining among the trees, and Barton; beginning to feel
uneasy, was thinking of moving forward himself into
the wood to see what had become of Frank, when the
tremulous owl-note was heard, apparently some distance in advance. All listened intently, but the cry
was not repeated. At a sign from Barton, the men
tucked their swords under their left legs, pressing them
against the saddles to prevent any rattling of scabbards, unslung their carbines and took them under their
right arms, and then, filing off to each side of the road,
where the ground was not beaten so hard as in the




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.            53
middle, rode at a slow walk toward the turn in the
road which Barton had indicated.
At a short distance below the turn, a narrow cartway led off into the wood, on one side of which was a
space comparatively open, the trees having been a
good deal thinned out. Halting here, Barton, after
listening a moment and hearing nothing, uttered a cry
like a whip-poor-will, and listened again. The long,
doleful hoot of the owl quavered right over his head,
from among the branches of the tree beneath which he
was standing. The next moment Frank slid down the
trunk and stood before him.
" Well," said Barton, "what do you make of them?"
"A hundred and fifty Tories around a fire," said
Frank.
"What are they doing, and how far off are they?"
"Some asleep, some playin' cards, some drinkin'
whisky, - half a mile," said Frank, categorically
answering both questions at once.
" How do you know they are Tories?" asked Barton.
"New English muskets; officer got a red coat."
"A hundred and fifty men," muttered Barton, musingly; "that's rather heavy odds against forty, unless
we can surprise them. Have they posted sentries,
Frank?" he added, in a louder tone, though even then
his voice would have been inaudible twenty feet off.
"Yes," answered  Frank, "'cept where they're
wanted. "
"How do you mean?" asked Barton.
"Why, look'e here; they're pitched round a spring
down there, and their fire's built on the bank of the run
that comes from it. The run goes between deep banks,
with plenty of bushes on each side. There's where
5*




54         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.,they want a sentry. Got none, o' course. Officer's a
greenhorn. Young ensign with bought commission, I
reckon."
" That was where you got near them, then.?" said
Barton.
"To be sure; crep' up within thirty feet. Heard'em
talkin' how they were goin' down to Elk to-morrow
mornin'. But that ain't all. Look'e here: Bettle's
boys is down there in the hollow a-watchin' em, too I"
" Bettle's boys!" exclaimed Barton. " Do they know
we're here?"
"Yes: they're a-waitin'.'"
" Good!" said Barton; " that makes sixty; we'll have
them. Now, how is the ground? fit for horses?"
"No; covered with brush; must be done afoot."
"Very well. Dismount, men; Simpson and Parker,
lead the horses farther in among the trees, and wait
there."
This conversation occupied but a few moments, and
the party were soon on their march under Frank's
guidance. The horses, each with his rider's carbine
and scabbard tied to the saddle-horn, had been led out
of sight among the trees, and the party, taking to the
stream, which ran, as Frank had stated, between deep
banks overgrown with bushes, moved along in single
file through the water, each man with his pistols in
his belt, and his sword tied by a thong to his wrist.
In about ten minutes they reached Bettle's men,
who were impatiently awaiting them, and could see
through the bushes the fire, and the enemy around it
occupied very much as Frank had described. They
were about a hundred yards distant, but the fire, fed
with dry brushwood, which lay plentifully scattered




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.            55
around, burned brightly enough to enable them to see
that the arms were stacked in a position to be easily
reached by their owners. A sentry was pacing up
and down in front of them. Nearly all the men who
were not asleep were playing cards, and had been
drinking freely. It was getting late, however, and
one after another lay down to sleep, until, in the course
of half an hour, during which the concealed party had
watched them in grim silence, all whom they could see
were snoring, except the officer in command-who still
sat by the fire, his horse, the only one in the party,
tied to a sapling near him-and the sentry who was
on guard over the muskets.
The latter was pacing up and down his beat, humming to himself some old tune, evidently acting upon
the feeling that the duty he was performing was more
a matter of form than of any special necessity.
The bushes immediately around the spring and over
the space occupied by the company had been roughly
cleared by hacking down the low brush and piling it
into couches, on which the sleepers lay in their halfdrunken slumber, as they had carelessly thrown themselves down.
They, of course, occupied some considerable space,
extending from the spring down the course of the
stream. The bushes had been cut away only to the
edge of the sloping bank, and the muskets were stacked
near the edge in the corner of the cleared ground




56         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
about twenty yards from this clump of bushes, casually
turned to glance at the sentry as he reached this point,
when, at the instant the latter turned on his heel to go
back, the officer caught a glimpse of something like a
cord sweeping through the moonlight clear over the
point of the man's bayonet, with a shrill " whish" like
a switch cutting rapidly through the air, and the sentry
went down backward into the bushes, disappearing as
suddenly and utterly as though the ground had opened
beneath him. The officer sprang to his feet and shouted
an alarm. His men, thus suddenly roused, and stupid
from the effect of their previous drinking, scrambled up
confusedly, and huddled together for a moment like a
flock of sheep.
" To the guns I to the guns!" he shouted, drawing
his sword and springing toward the stacked arms, his
men, who had recovered from their momentary bewilderment, rushing pell-mell after him.
But, while the cry was on his lips, a crowd of dusky
figures poured from the bushes, and, before he had
cleared half the distance to the guns, had possessed
themselves of them, and were formed in solid column
right in his path, holding him and his unarmed rabble
covered with their own weapons. The other sentries
had run in at the alarm, and he shouted to them to fire
They hesitated a moment, for there were only three or
four of them; and then the first voice which was heard
from the attacking party, spoke.
"Hold! if you fire a shot, if a single hand is raised,
you shall die to a man. Ground your arms!"
The four muskets struck the ground with a single
" thud. "
"You are outgeneraled," said Barton, who was




THE QUAKER PA4RTISANS.              57
the speaker, calmly, to the officer; "deliver up your
sword. "
"I deliver my sword to no leader of banditti, sir,"
said the officer, scornfully; "I will deliver it to any
regular officer, if such a man can be found in your
gang."
"You are wasting breath, my friend, in hard words,"
said Barton, as calmly as ever; " you will deliver it to
plain Levi Barton, in command of a detachment of the
irregular cavalry of the rebel army, or it will be taken
from you; I care not which "
"Take it, then, if you can " said the Englishman,
frantic with rage and mortification; and, springing forward, he made a furious lunge, which would assuredly
have left but little more to be said about Barton, had
the latter been one whit less wary and prompt than he
showed himself.
As it was, he only saved himself by instinctively
throwing down his left hand and seizing the blade near
the point, turning it aside, while the Englishman, losing
his balance as his arm was wrenched aside, came full
against the breast of his antagonist.
Half a dozen bullets from the captured muskets,
fired aimlessly in the hurry, whizzed past the young
officer's head as he sprang forward, and as many men
darted from the ranks of the Americans to the assistance of their leader.
"Back I" shouted Barton; "back, I say I leave me
to deal with him I" and, twitching the straight cut-andthrust sword which hung by its thong from his wrist,
into his hand, he made a step in advance as the Englishman recovered himself, and the blades crossed.
It was a splendid night for such a passage at arms.




58         THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
The full moon was shining directly overhead, without
a cloud, giving a light almost as bright as day. The
fire of brushwood near the spring was still blazing,
though partially burnt out, and its flickering light cast
a weird, uncanny glare on the flashing swords which
were now busy, on the ghostly-looking trees, and the
masses of eager faces between which the two combatants were stamping and circling around.
For two or three minutes nothing was audible but
the sharp clink of the swords as they struck together,
or the low rasp as blade grated along blade, as the
combatants stood warily upon guard for a moment.
Then from one a gleam would dart across the moonlight straight at the other's breast. A quick turn of
the wrist, and it would swerve, slide back, and the
blades would play across, around, and past each other
so rapidly that the spectators could discern nothing
but the flashing gleams as the weapons glanced in the
moonbeams or in the light of the fire.
The whole affair was over in five minutes; but in
that short time, justice compels me to state, Barton
was as many times within a hair's-breadth of losing
his life. So far as skill and practice were concerned,
his antagonist was fully his match; and he owed his
life to the coolness which his Quaker training in selfcommand had made a second nature, and which,
though he fought with energy and in stern earnest,
he never lost for an instant, contenting himself at first
with standing on the defensive, and parrying as well as
he could-and it took all the skill he had-the furious
lunges with which his antagonist, half mad with rage,
attacked him. He had also the advantage of a more
muscular and better-knit frame, and, above all, of




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             59
what, in fencing, other things being equal, will almost
infallibly secure a victory,-a suppler and stronger
wrist. The Englishman, in his blind fury, had thrown
himself open repeatedly, but Barton, though he did
not fail to see it, took no advantage of it, as he did
not intend to kill him if he could help it.
Warily standing thus on his guard, he watched his
adversary keenly, and seeing him, at length, beginning
to breathe hard and quickly, he suddenly changed his
plan, at the last minute, and attacked in his turn.
There was a sudden thrust, a parry, a locking of
hilts, a quick spring of Barton's wrist, and the Englishman's sword flew out of his hand, and he stood unarmed and panting.
"Will you give up your sword?" said Barton, in
the calm, unmoved tone he had used all along, to his
antagonist.
"You have disarmed me, sir, and I am in your
power," said the officer, gloomily. "Do with me as
you please: I will thank you if you will pass your
sword through me, and end me and my dishonor
together. "
"You surrender, then, unconditionally?" asked
Barton.
The officer bowed. "I can do no better, sir."
"Frank," said Barton, "bring me that sword."
Frank picked it up from where it lay at his feet, and
banded it to Barton.
The latter turned toward the officer, who was looking at him in some bewilderment, and placed the hilt
in his hand, saying, kindly,"Take back your sword: it couldn't be in a braver
hand, nor in any that knows better how to use it. It




60         THE QUAKER PAR TISANS.
is no disgrace to have been disarmed by a stronger
man-I can't say a better fencer."
"I thank you, sir," said the officer, in a low tone,
and speaking with much emotion. "You have treated
me most generously. I am aware that, by the laws of
war, I have forfeited my life in attacking you as I did,
and you give it to me without asking."
"We'll let that pass," said Barton; "brave men are
not plenty enough to be killed unnecessarily, even if
they are enemies."
"Well, sir," said the officer, "you have made one
enemy less, and one friend more, if you will allow me
to call myself so."
"I had rather have that sword of yours for me than
against me," said Barton, smiling, "and had a good
deal rather have its master for a friend than for an
enemy. I must do an unfriendly act, however. It
will be necessary for me to take you and your men
with me to the camp as prisoners."
" Of course," said the officer: "it is your duty to
do so."
He then turned to his men and ordered them to form
in column, and the sentries, who still retained their
muskets, to stack them with the rest. When they had
done so, and stood looking rather sheepishly at each
other, he said to Barton,"~We wait your pleasure, sir."
"Boys," said Barton to his troop, " each of you take
two of those muskets, sling one to your backs with reversed bayonets, and keep the other in hand. I don't
distrust you," he said, in a low tone, to the officer,
"but I do distrust your men, and, with such a force,
must use every precaution."




THE. QUAKER PARTISANS.            61
"You have reason to, sir," said the latter, in the same
tone; "for a set of greater scoundrels never went unhanged than half of them are. If it were not for the
shame of being surprised through my own carelessness,
I would feel inclined to thank you for having released
me from the command of them."
As he spoke, he turned suddenly to one of his men,
who had stepped forward and whispered something in
his ear.
"Take that, you infernal scoundrel!" he exclaimed,
dashing his sword-hilt against the fellow's mouth with
a force that sent him reeling back into the ranks with
his front teeth knocked out and his jaw broken.
" What's the matter?" said Barton, in great surprise,
while the sharp click of gunlocks cocking ran along his
own ranks.
" Only an illustration of what I just told you," said
the officer, bitterly. " That fellow proposed to seize you
and hold you, so that your men could not fire on them
without killing you, while they made terms for their
own safety."
" They wouldn't have gained much by that," said
Barton, coolly: "my men are used to hitting nothing
but what they aim at, when they have time to aim
at all."
"Well, let him go," said the officer. "I believe I
have spoiled his talking for awhile."
The Tories were then ordered to march forward into
the woods, the Americans guarding them on each side,
and so they proceeded along the course of the little
stream, leading the horse with them, until they reached
the junction of the roads. A whistle from Barton was
6




62         THE QUA KER PARTISANS.
answered from a little distance in the woods, and soon
after the horses of the troop issued forth, following the
soldiers who were mounted on the foremost. The
whole party reached the American camp, without any
further disturbance, about daybreak, and Barton reported himself at head-quarters and delivered his
prisoners.




CHAPTER V.
WHEN Ellis Clayton reached Turkey Point, he found
the army debarked and encamped about a mile back in
the country, with the exception of three brigades of
Hessians under Knyphausen, which were posted near
the landing.
The ships lay off the mouth of the river, with boats
passing to and fro between them and the shore, busily
engaged in landing what remained of the army stores
and equipage.
Approaching an officer who was standing near the
landing, superintending the work that was going on,
he said to him,"Friend, does thee think there would be any objection to my going within the camp? It is a new and
strange sight to me, and I feel a curiosity to see it
more closely."
The officer stared hard at the meek-looking individual who addressed him so blandly, but at last
answered, —"Well, I don't know that there would, Friend
George Fox. But what interest can a man of your
cloth take in such worldly matters as soldiers and
camps? However, go in; but don't talk to any of the
men on duty."
So Clayton quietly walked in,-I forgot to mention
(63)




64         TILE QUA-KER PARTISANVS.
that he had left his horse at a house about half a
mile from the landing,-and sauntered quietly and with
apparent listlessness through the camp, but with his
eyes about him, noting everything,-the bad condition
of the horses,-the artillery, which had not yet been
removed, carefully fixing in his mind the number and
weight of the guns and the supply of ammunition, as
well as he could judge of the latter,-but finding his
attempts to gain information from the soldiers he met,
a little impeded in consequence of not understanding
a word of German, and of those he spoke to not understanding a word of English except the one word
"reb'l."
The only answers he received, "Nein "-" Ya,
meinherr "-and "Wier no sprechen reb'l "-being
unsatisfactory in their nature, he gave it up, and contented himself with making the circuit of the camp,
marking two or three places on the outskirts where he
thought a night attack might be advantageously made,
and finally reached the point he had started from,
where he found the officer still on duty.
"Well, Friend George," said the latter, "what does
thee think of the appearance of things? This is only
a detachment of the army; but it's a fair specimen.
Do you think we would have any chance if Mr. Washington should catch us?"
" That would depend upon how many troops thee
had, and especially how many cannons like those I
saw over yonder; if the rest of the army has as many
in proportion, my impression is that thee might be
able to persuade him not to molest thee."
"Oh, that's all the artillery," said the officer; "but,
besides, we have about seventeen thousand men. Did




THE Q UA KER PARTISANS.           65
you happen to have heard how many Mr. Washington
has?"
" No," said Clayton, who, as it happened, had never
heard the number mentioned, though he could have
made a shrewd guess; "I have not heard, but I
should suppose nearly as many as what thee mentioned. "
" Do you think so?" said the officer: "then there'll
be so much the more credit in routing them when we
meet. But there's the gun," he added, as the heavy
report of the evening gun boomed through the camp
and rolled over the still water of the bay; "you must
get outside the lines."
" Well, farewell, friend," said Clayton. "I am obliged
for the privilege thee has given me, and hope to be
able to repay thee some day."
So saying, he walked away, while the officer looked
after him suspiciously, his attention having been attracted by a slight change in the tone of the last words.
" I've half a mind to stop that fellow," he muttered to
himself; but Clayton was walking quietly along, so
calmly, and with so little appearance of suspecting that
he was suspected, that the officer, whose attention was
also called to something else at the moment, relinquisbed his half-formned purpose, and soon forgot, for
the time, all about the circumstance.
Clayton went back to where he had left his horse,
and, mounting, betook himself with all speed to the
point occupied by the small force of Americans which
was in the neighborhood. These had been sent down
more for the purpose of assisting in the removal of
the stores, and protecting those who were employed
in this way, than with any idea of their fighting.
6*




66         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
The next morning, about daybreak, he was aroused
by a great bustle in the camp, accompanied by a cheer
or two, which, however, were promptly and sternly
silenced by the officer in command.
" What's the matter?" he inquired of a soldier who
was hurrying past him to the commander's quarters.
"Don't know, exactly," said the soldier; "some
prisoners brought in, I b'lieve."
Clayton hurried forward with the rest, and there,
sure enough, in front of the commander's tent, were
Barton and Bettle with their sixty'men, surrounding,
as well as they could, their one hundred and fifty
prisoners.
Barton glanced. at him as he came near; but a slight
knitting of Clayton's brows, for an instant, warned him
against any public recognition of him. The men
glanced from one to the other and understood the hint
at once, and gave no sign of recognition whatever,
but sat still on their horses.
A few words from Barton to the commander sufficed
to explain matters; the prisoners were placed under
guard, with the exception of their officer, who was released upon his parole not to leave the camp: and the
troop was dismissed.
"So thee's been at work?" said Clayton, after the
crowd-had scattered, so that no one was within hear
ing. " Where did thee pick up this party?"
"About ten miles back in the woods," said Barton,
who then gave him a detailed account of the occurrence, though much more concisely than I have done.
"It was well done," said Clayton, " and I am the
more pleased that thee managed it without shedding
blood. Has thee seen Wetherill and Wheeler?"




THE Q UA KER PARTISANS.           67
"No," said Barton; " I presume they're not far off,
but there's been no sign of them as yet."
"After thee and the men have had breakfast and
taken some sleep, I want thee to send Bettle and a
dozen men to look for them. I shall want them, perhaps, to-night; I want thee, also, to send a trusty messenger to Chester to General Washington. Tell him
that the enemy have landed in good condition, with the
exception of the horses, which are down in flesh in consequence of their long voyage; they have a full train
of field-pieces, with plenty of ammunition; they are
preparing to march up into the country, and will probably pass through Wilmington; the people, generally,
are discouraged, and inclined to accept the protection
which Howe has proclaimed. That is about all, except
what relates to thy own affair last night."
About sunset, the remaining forty rangers, under
Wetherill and Wheeler, came in, bringing with them a
few stragglers whom they had cut off from the main
body of the enemy, around which they had been hovering all day; and in half an hour afterward came Bettle
with his party, to report that they had not been able to
find them; they had been reconnoitering one side of
the army, while Wetherill and Wheeler were hovering
about the other.
Wetherill informed Clayton that one of his men had
been in the camp disguised as a laborer, and had gathered from the talk of the soldiers that they expected
to march the next morning.
"To-morrow morning," said Clayton. "Are the
horses fresh enough for service to-night?"
"Oh, yes," said Wetherill; "they've had no hard
work to-day."




68         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
"The moon will go down about nine o'clock," said
Clayton, "and it is getting cloudy: it will be a dark
night, and I believe I'll give them some exercise."
"What are we to do?" inquired Wetherill.
"Call the other lieutenants," said Clayton.
Barton, Wheeler, and Bettle made their appearance,
and Clayton unfolded his plan briefly.
"I'm  going to try if we can't reach K nyphausen's
tent and carry him off to-night. Each of you take his
squad and meet me in the woods on the hill beyond
the camp at one o'clock in the morning. Go separately. You will have to depend upon signals to find
the meeting-place after you get into the woods."
Clayton had explained the character of his troop to
the officer in command, and had shown him an order
from Washington, instructing him to allow them to
come and go at discretion, so that, at the appointed
time, being furnished with the pass-word, they found
no difficulty in passing out, though the sentinel on
duty where Wheeler's division passed, stared hard at
them, and muttered to himself," I wonder what devilment the fightin' Quakers are
up to now."
"We're going to a'meeting for discipline,"' said
Wheeler, who overheard him.
After some little time, having walked their horses
slowly, to avoid noise, the four divisions reached the
wood at different points, and, after entering fairly among
the trees, halted in silence, waiting for signals.
Barton, with his forty men, had entered on the side
farthest from the camp; he had been there but a few
moments when the well-known owl-hoot quavered
from a point near the center of the wood.




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.             69
"There's the captain," said he, as he answered it
with a whistle, "and there's Wetherill," as the cry of
a whip-poor-will sounded from the left; " forward,
boys, quietly."
In a few minutes, guided by the first signal, which
was repeated at short intervals, the whole party were
assembled around Clayton.
In his calm, impassive way, he gave them their
orders in a few brief words, and the troop emerged
from the wood, which was about two miles from the
Hessian camp.
The sky was by this time covered with heavy clouds,
the thunder had begun to mutter in the distance, and
there was every appearance of a storm.
As soon as the troop emerged from the wood they
separated, and descended the hill in small parties,
silently and cautiously, the tramp of the horses being
but slightly audible on the soft sward, as theyproceeded
at a slow walk. The wind also was rising, and blowing directly from the encampment, decreasing materially the danger of being heard. A ravine lay across
their course at some distance from the camp, with a
space of about a hundred yards of open meadow-ground
between its brink and the nearest sentinel. It was
fringed with -trees on both sides, while at the bottom
ran a tumbling brook, which, at one point, pitched over
some obstructing rocks in a series of irregular cascades,
falling, altogether, some seven or eight feet; this, of
itself, made sufficient roaring to drown the noise of
horse-hoofs proceeding so cautiously.
The scattered troop assembled again in the ravine,
and crossed the stream just above the cascade, where
the water was foaming and splashing over the rocky




70         THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
bottom, the sure-footed horses feeling their way among
the slippery stones, with the reins loose upon their
necks, until they had all reached the other side, and
formed on the slope of the nearer bank, just below the
meadow level, and screened by the trees which grew
upon the brink. In another minute, three of the men
had dismounted, divested themselves of all their arms
except a long knife and a light cord of twisted rawhide, such as had been used upon the unlucky sentry
at the spring when he disappeared so suddenly in the
bushes, crawled over the edge of the bank, and were
worming their way, flat upon the ground, through the
long grass, toward as many different sentinels. The
sky had grown blacker than ever, and the darkness
was intense; it was utterly impossible for the sentries
to distinguish any object, not above the level of the
ground, ten feet off, while the three scouts could distinguish, dimly, though surely enough for their purpose, the forms of the sentries against the sky, which,
black as it was, was lighter than the ground, as they
paced up and down their respective beats. That of
the nearest was terminated by a large chestnut-tree, at
which Frank, who was one of the scouts, had observed
him turn and retrace his steps. That of the second
was terminated by a bend of the ravine, which swept,
in that direction, half round the camp. That of the
third, and most remote, terminated at an orchard surrounded by a worm fence.
The three men wormed their way stealthily along
toward the various points I have mentioned, as the
sentinels paced drowsily to and fro, until they had all
reached their destinations, Frank lying flat in the, if
possible, deeper darkness under the tree, while his




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             71
companions were crouched, one behind the bank of the
ravine, the other in an angle of the fence, beneath the
overhanging branches of a.large old apple-tree.
As the sentinel whose beat extended to this place
reached it, he turned, marched a step or two back, and
then, stopping, lowered his musket to the ground, and
stood with the bayonet leaning against his shoulder,
while he emptied and refilled his exhausted pipe. As
he did so, a dark form rose silently and swiftly behind
him; there was a quick whirl of its arm, a slight
"whish," and the raw-hide cord, armed with a leaden
ball at the end, swept against the gaiters of the unlucky Hessian, coiling around his ankles instantly,
while a powerful jerk given at the same moment
snatched his feet backward from under him with a force
that brought his nose and mouth into contact with the
earth before he had time to utter an exclamation.
He was scarcely down before his captor was upon
him, with one knee between his shoulders, at the base
of the neck, effectually preventing him from raising his
head enough to raise an alarm, while he coolly, but
with wonderful precision and rapidity, tied his hands
behind him with the end of the cord. The scout then,
by a sudden pull, turned him on his back, clapping his
hand over his mouth as he did so, thus preventing any
imprudent outcry, and then, without wasting any
words,'which the other would not have understood,
enjoined silence by the low "sh" which is intelligible
in all languages, enforced by a slight but expressive
pressure of his knife-point upon the side of the neck,
between the ear and the edge of the leather stock.
He then slightly relaxed his grasp upon the mouth, to
see whether his prisoner had discretion enough to take




72         THE QUA KER PARTISANS.
the hint and keep it shut. As may be supposed, the
fellow was half stunned, and a good deal more than
half confused, by his fall: he was just beginning to
recover his faculties as his captor eased his hand from
his mouth, and immediately showed that he had very
little discretion, by opening it to shout for help, whereupon his captor, who had untwined the cord from his
legs, clapped his left hand upon his throat in a way
that made him open his mouth to its full extent for
breath, and incontinently thrust the leaden ball, about
as large as a walnut with the hull on, into his widestretched jaws, cleverly filling up the cavity and effectually stopping any noise from issuing thereout. Tying
a handkerchief tightly around the mouth, to keep the
extempore gag in its place, he led his prisoner cautiously, but rapidly, away in the shadow of the orchard,
until he reached the ravine, diving into which, he hurried up to where the troop was stationed.
Frank and the remaining scout came in at the same
time. They had been less fortunate, in one respect at
least, for both had killed their men. Frank had been
compelled to do so; for as he put his hand down to
raise himself behind the tree under which the sentinel
had at that instant turned, he placed it, and pressed
with his whole weight, right upon a cluster of chestnutburrs, which some urchin in passing had clubbed down.
Though he made no exclamation, the sharp, unexpected
sting made him start slightly, and the soldier heard
him and turned. There was no time to lose; and,
leaping upon him, before he had time to lower his musket to fire, he seized it by the barrel, and drove his
knife into the luckless Hessian's throat. With a single
effort to shout, which only produced a low, choking




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.               73
gurgle, the man fell dead, and Frank sped back across
the meadow, crouching low until he came within the
shadow of the trees that lined the ravine.
The other had taken the same plan as had been
taken with the sentinel at the spring, and had jerked
the cord against his throat with such good will that
the man actually rolled down the bank with his neck
broken.
So far all had been successful; and, long as it has
taken to tell it, was accomplished in a few minutes.
Clayton immediately put the troop in motion, calculating to pass the lines before the relief guard should
come around. The storm was drawing nearer, and
the thunder was beginning to roll heavily, and almost
continuously, effectually drowning the sound of the
horses' feet, and they reached the lines without being
discovered; but it happened that the officer whom
Clayton had seen the previous evening was in command of the relief guard, and after he had returned
from placing the sentinels, the thought of Clayton's
last words, and the half suspicion they had roused,
recurred to him, and he determined to visit the outposts again before the time was up, to see what the
sentries were doing. Reaching the bend of the ravine,
where the upper one was stationed, he found the post
vacant.
"The scoundrel's deserted!" said he, with an oath;
"forward, men, and let's see what's become of the
next one."
At this instant, a broad glare of lightning blazed
across the sky, showing him the whole of Clayton's
troop crossing his track between him and the chestnutP
tree, not more than thirty yards off.
7




74         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
"Fire!" he shouted; "fire, you dogs, and then make
for the tents!"
He was answered by the instant discharge of all the
muskets of the patrol, without effect, however, in the
intense darkness, while the troop, paying no attention
to his party, now that the alarm was given, put their
horses to their speed toward the center of the camp,
where stood Knyphausen's marquee.
In a moment after the fire of the guard, they heard
the long roll of drums in every direction; there was
the tramp of hurrying feet, and voices of officers issuing orders rapidly and sharply, as the men poured,
half dressed and " drunk with sleep," from their tents,
and formed hastily to repel an attack of they knew
not what.
Then came a rattle of musketry, fired in the direction
of the roar of hoofs which were sweeping on like a
hurricane, but fired so hurriedly and at random that
not a shot took effect. The next instant, however,
came the heavy bang of a field-piece, which had been
hastily unlimbered and loaded, and a twelve-pound
shot hummed through the troop, emptying five or six
saddles at once.
A leap of Bettle's horse brought him alongside the
gunner, who dropped under the gun just in time to save
his head from being swept off by a back-handed blow
of Bettle's sword.
Another broad glare of lightning, and then another
and another flashed over the sky in such rapid succession, that for several seconds the whole expanse of
meadow and forest and camp was visible in the glim
mering light, showing the rows of tents, with the general's marquee in the midst, not thirty yards off; but




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             75
the same glare showed the whole camp alive with
soldiers hurrying to their respective posts, and twenty
or thirty men rapidly unlimbering the cannon. The
game was blocked, and nothing was left but to escape
as well as they could. It looked like a forlorn hope;
but Clayton, whose coolness and watchfulness nothing
ever disturbed, fertile in resources, as he now and
many a time afterward had sore need to be, was ready
for the emergency. His keen eye had observed, while
the lightning was flashing, that the only force actually
opposed to him was the small detachment whose ineffectual fire he had just received, and which was only
half formed. He determined to charge their flank, cut
his way through, if possible, and pass across their rear
before the others could join them, and so run the gauntlet of the irregular fire, or turn on them again before
they could form, and scatter them.
He gave his orders instantly, and the column wheeled
and dashed headlong at the enemy, riding down all in
their way, the horses, trained to their work, striking
furiously with their forefeet and seizing with their teeth
every one within reach.
The enemy turned, promptly enough, as they gained
the rear, but their line, such as it was, was hopelessly
disordered, and in another moment there was a confused hurly-burly of horse and foot in deadly hand-tohand strife, man to man.
They were so mingled that it was impossible for
those coming up to fire without killing their own
friends; but the nearest body, consisting of about
fifty or sixty, having had time to form, came up in
solid column with the bayonet. Another body, rather
stronger, was advancing on the other side, and Clay



76         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
ton saw, in the now almost incessant blaze of the
lightning, that he was hemmed in.
"By the piper," said the officer at the head of the
smaller company, "if it isn't George Fox, with a
carnal weapon in his handI Thee's done for, Friend
George."
"Perhaps thee's mistaken," said Clayton, who had
recognized the voice of the officer to whom he had
been talking at the landing; "perhaps thee's mistaken.
Away " he shouted, and his men, who had been in a
solid square, instantly streamed out into two lines, as
if by magic, and darted between the opposing forces at
full speed, crouching low behind their horses' necks,
and pouring from beneath them, on either hand, a fire
from their pistols, which was instantly returned, though
without much effect on either side. Another moment,
and they were clear, and a hundred-yards off in the
meadow, but now separated into half a dozen squads,
and scattered from one end of it to the other.
Battalion after battalion came up and poured in
their volleys, but with little effect, as may be supposed,
upon an enemy which showed no two men together to
fire at, and of whom every individual was constantly
in rapid motion, never standing still for a moment.
On the other hand, the carbines were cracking singly
from all directions in the meadow, as the riders circled
about like hawks, preserving, in all their apparent
looseness, a symmetry of evolution which showed
plainly that some incomprehensible kind of discipline
was at work among them. This irregular fire did a
good deal of mischief in the solid ranks, nearly every
ball telling. By this time, however, the artillery was
brought up, and a storm of grape from half a dozen




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             77
guns at once whistled across the meadow, knocking
three or four more men off their horses. It was now
time to leave in earnest; and, Clayton having given
the order to retreat, without which his men would
have stood their ground all night, they gave a parting
volley from their carbines, and rode off toward the
ravine, followed by another ineffectual discharge of
musketry, and in five minutes more were in the wood
from which they had first emerged.
"Well, of all the-isn't a Quaker the very d —l?"
said the officer who had recognized Clayton; "to slip
through our fingers that wayl'Bout face; march!"
and back they marched through the rain, which was
now pouring furiously.




CHAPTER VI.
THE attempt had failed; not from want of care or
management on the part of Clayton, but from one of
those awkward contingencies which cannot be foreseen. and against which there is no guarding. It
gave Knyphausen, however, a glimpse of a new feature, to him, in the tactics of the enemy. With regulars he knew very well what to do, but this kind of
heretical manoeuvring, this way of attacking, like a
nest of hornets, a sting and away, leaving nothing for
him to attack in return, was as uncomfortable and
confusing to him as it became to a good many more
of his Majesty's faithful officers before the war was
ended.
The next day the British forces moved forward to
Gray's Hill, and from that time until the 11th of September they were occupied in working their way to
Chad's Ford, harassed by continual skirmishes and
desultory attacks, in which our Quaker corps was by
no means idle.
It was evening, the 11th of September. The battle
had been fought gallantly against odds in numbers,
in training, in discipline; and it had been lost. The
broken columns of the bulk of the American army
were flying down the road from Birmingham Meetinghouse to Dilworthstown. General Greene still stub(78)




~~~~~~~~~~N~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~~i _~
V
~~~~;~~A -~~
-  7~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~4/~~(1                         1'~~








THE QUAKER PARTISANS.              79
bornly held the narrow defile commanding the road,
where he had stationed himself by Washington's orders
as soon as the retreat became inevitable. La Fayette,
wounded in attempting to rally the flying troops, was
lying helpless at the house of William Jones, about
half a mile north of the meeting-house.  Pulaski,
with his cavalry, was covering the retreat. The old
meeting-house was turned into a hospital, and the
surgeons were busy with knife and saw and tourniquet.
When it had grown dark, and the pursuit had ceased,
Greene withdrew from his position in the defile, and
marched with what remained of the American forces
in good order toward Chester, which had been fixed
upon by the commander as a rendezvous.
Clayton, however, who had stationed himself with
his troop in the same defile, under General Greene's
orders for the time, separated his force from Greene's
as soon as they were fairly on the road, it being no
part of his purpose to accompany the retreat of the
army; and, making a wide circuit to the eastward to
outreach the British, struck the Brandywine again on
the east branch, at Jefferis' Ford, and thence proceeded
along the road described in the first chapter, till he
reached the quaint little old brick house which I have
already described. His force was sadly reduced, consisting now of not more than thirty-five or forty men,
with some twenty extra horses, which had kept in the
ranks after their riders had fallen, and now followed in
good order in the rear. It was now about eleven
o'clock at night, and all was still, except the occasional
bark of a watch-dog, breaking sharply and harshly
through the monotonous roar of a dam higher up the




80         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
stream, and the gurgling of the small "run" which
crossed the road they were on, just below the house.
The building, or rather the barn* belonging to it,
came into view first, from a point in the road some
two or three hundred yards below, where it turned
the corner of a high bank on the east side. On arriving
at this point, Clayton gave the order to halt, in a
low voice, and, turning to Barton, who was riding near
him, inquired whether he knew the place or anything
about the country.
"No," answered Barton, "I don't; but Frank, here,
is from somewhere in this neighborhood, and ought to
know."
" Does thee know whose place this is, Frank?" said
Clayton; " the men and horses are tired and hungry,
and I would like to find some place to rest and refresh
them."
"Well, I reckon I know it," said Frank; "and we
couldn't ha' lit on a better place. Look'e here, this is
old Tommy Sanford's place,-as good a Whig as the
country can turn up, only he's got so many Tory
neighbors he can't show it, for fear o' bein' tuk an'
handed over to the Britishers if they git the upper
hand."
" Well, I suppose if we take possession of the house
and barn without his consent, he won't mind it particularly," said Barton.
"No, I'xpect not," said Frank. "But jest look'e
here; hadn't I better go up by myself an' take a squint
round first, to see if there's any bloody Tories about
* It so longer exists; the present barn is on the west side of the
road, between the house and the Strasburg road.




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             81
there? It wouldn't be nice to tumble on to a hundred or two of'em without bein' ready, would it?"
"Not very," said Clayton. "Go on, then, and see
if thee can perceive any signs of them."
"All right," said Frank; "you keep still, this side
o' th' bridge, till I come back or call. If you hear an
owl, there's danger, and you'd better git into the cornfield, off from the road, an' then I'll know where to find
you."
So saying, Frank dismounted and proceeded toward
the barn, while one of the other men, by Clayton's
order, silently took down the bars that led into the field,
where the corn was standing high enough to conceal a
man on horseback, in order that they might, if necessary, get out of the road without noise. This done, the
troop stood silent, the men with their carbines under
their left arms, and their swords tucked in between
thigh and saddle, as they always rode in night marches.
In the mean time, Frank proceeded cautiously along
the road, keeping well in the shadow of the bank, until
he reached the corner of the barn-yard, which was upon
the edge of the road. Here he stopped, and, crouching
by the wall, peered over. The night was too dark to
see anything distinctly, but he thought he could perceive, in the deep shadow beneath the upper part of
the barn, which projected some twenty feet over the
lower portion and was supported by rude pillars of
heavy masonry, something like the figures of five or
six animals,-whether horses or cattle he could not tell.
He also heard sounds within the stables, apparently
among the stalls, which seemed to indicate a larger
number of occupants than he knew the old farmer was
accustomed to keep.




82         THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
He kept along the yard, crouching below the top of
the wall, until he reached the corner nearest the house,
where he could get a clear view of the gangway and
of the space between the house and barn. Before
reaching the corner, he laid himself at full length, and
snaked, or "snigged" his way, as he termed it, along,
so close to the ground that there was no possibility of
seeing him, had there been a dozen sentries. But none
was visible, and Frank cautiously raised himself and
moved on tiptoe up the gangway to the barn-doors,
where he stood for a minute listening intently. While
in this position, he felt his left hand, which was hanging carelessly behind him, touched by something cold.
Startled, he turned promptly, hand on knife, but found
nothing but a dog, which he had given to the old
farmer about six months before, and which had recognized him, and was now rubbing its cold nose against
him and whining joyfully.
"'St, Carlo, old boy,'st," said Frank, in a whisper;
"keep that throat o' yourn still. " And, giving the dog a
light pinch on the ear, the intelligent brute lay down
close to the ground, giving no signs of life except a wary
turning of the head occasionally.
After listening a minute longer, and hearing no sound,
except the occasional movements of the horses below,
Frank pulled the latch-string of the small door which
opened in one of the large ones, opened it noiselessly,
stepped over the bottom board, and entered the threshing-floor of the barn. A few moments satisfied him
that there was no one there but himself, and, coming
out again, he proceeded toward the house.
If he had found silence in the barn, he did not find
it when he reached the kitchen-door; for the kitchen at




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THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            83
least was evidently full of men, who were as evidently
carousing. He could distinguish certainly not less than
from forty to fifty different voices amid the confused
hubbub which prevailed, and, stealing to the window,
a small narrow opening, glazed with lozenge-shaped
lights set in lead, and destitute of shutters, he looked
in, standing a foot or so back, however, that his face
might be hidden in the gloom outside.
What he saw was this. The kitchen full of men,
some asleep on the floor, some sitting around a table,
in company with a demijohn and an uncouth-looking
variety of mugs and cups for drinking, and somne
gathered near a corner of the room where sat, evidently prisoners, Thomas Sanford and his two sons,
John and Mahlon. The old man's countenance wore
an expression of gloomy thought, and he took little
notice of the efforts of his wife and Jenny, who sat
beside him, to cheer him up. The younger men sat
still, with a look of dogged endurance, but with a drawing together of the eyebrows, and a compressed squareness about the lips, which told of anything but amiable
feelings at work within.
At this moment one of the men, a lean, shambling
fellow, with a long, peaked nose, rose from the table,
and, crossing the room to where the girl was sitting,
with that excessively precise step which marks the
stage of intoxication graphically designated as a "brick
in his hat," squared himself before her with a vacant
look of maudlin sentimentality for a moment, and then,
before she could suspect what he was at, deliberately
stooped over her and attempted to take her face between his hands and draw it toward his own. As the
girl thrust away his hands indignantly, and made an




84         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
unsuccessful attempt to rise from her chair, the two
young men, who were sitting near, both sprang to
their feet at once and seized him by the throat. They
were instantly grappled with, however, by half a dozen
of those who stood around, and were dragged off,
struggling furiously.
" Let me go I" exolaimed John; "the drunken coward
has insulted my sister I" and both renewed their struggles so vehemently that it required all the strength of
the six men to hold them.
There was a hurly-burly of voices,-" Let'em at
hin.", "Fair play; one at a time."  " He shall kiss
the gal."  "He sha'n't."  "It's a shame."  "Knock
the young rebels on the head,"-some attempting to
drag the fellow away, some striving to prevent it.
All who had been sitting at the table had sprung up
and were joining in the scuffle, those who had been
asleep on the floor were "picking themselves up"
and staring around in the confusion of their sudden
awakening, and there was every prospect of a general
mBlows were beginning to be exchanged, and severale.
Blows were beginning to be exchanged, and several
of the combatants, extricating themselves from the
crowd, made toward the muskets, which were stacked
in the opposite corner of the room. This had been
foreseen from the beginning, however, by the cooler
heads of the party, and a dozen of them had formed
themselves around the pile of arms, and stood quietly
and firmly in a quarter-circle, whose arc bristled with
bayonets from wall to wall.
This was an unanswerable argument, which the
others did not attempt to controvert, but turned back
again, to resume the fight "pugnibus et calcibus."




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.              85
By this time, however, a few of those who were
nearest to being sober had interfered, and managed
to separate the combatants and restore some kind of
order.
The whole affair did not occupy more than a couple
of minutes, and the men resumed their places, some at
the table and some on the floor. The girl, however,
sat with her face buried in her hands, while her
mother bent over her, striving to comfort her, and her
brothers sat grinding their teeth in powerless rage.
Frank had beheld the whole scene from the window,
and at the moment the fellow stooped over the girl he
was covered by the cocked horse-pistol in Frank's
hand. Another instant, and he would have fired; but,
while his forefinger was pressing the trigger, the two
brothers had sprung directly into the line of fire; and
from that time, until tranquillity was restored, no opportunity occurred for him to fire without imminent
danger of hitting the wrong man. It gave him also
an opportunity of recovering his coolness, which had
at first been somewhat disturbed by his sudden wrath.
" Look'e here!" said he, addressing nobody in particular, and quietly uncocking the pistol; "by the
hokey! well it wasn't Bettle,'stead o' me, saw that
rascal try to kiss Jenny Sanford; he'd a' been among'em slap dash, an' got his throat cut, sure. Blamed
if I wasn't nigh doin' a desp'it foolish thing myself,
to go to shoot him then. I reckon Bettle wouldn't'a'
thanked me much for takin' that job off his hands, anyhow. Now I'll jest take a squint round the house an'
see if there's any sentries out, an' then back an' report."
So saying, Frank moved cautiously around the
8




86         THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
building, as noiselessly as a snake, and satisfied himself that the Tories, in their fancied security, had overlooked this very important precaution.
Hurrying back to where the troop were standing, he
reported what he- had seen to Clayton.
" Can we take them?" asked the latter; "or are they
too strong? The men and horses are tired out, and
not fit for fighting. I would like to save those people,
too, particularly as thee says that Bettle is interested
in the young woman. Suppose thee tells him, and
sees what he thinks."
"No; reckon we'd best not tell him jest yet," said
Frank; " Bettle's skin wouldn't hold him, if he know'd
it. He'll fight hard enough, if there's any fightin' to
be done, without knowin' anything about it. But
there needn't be much fightin', if we go to work
right."
" Well, what does thee propose?"
"Why, look'e here: we don't want to take'em at
all; wouldn't know what to do with'em if we had'em; but we can rout'em off, an' save old Tommy
an' the rest of'em, jest as easy as snappin' your
fingers. "
"How?" inquired Clayton.
"Why, I'll tell you as we go along; leave a dozen
o' the men here, with the loose horses in front of'em;
bring a dozen more up to the barn-yard, an' put'em
behind the wall with their carbines —they must leave
their horses out o' sight, behind the barn-send half a
dozen up the road, between the house an' the Lancaster road, an' let me have the rest, an' we'll-fix'em
good."
" Be it so," said Clayton. "What next?"




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.             87
"Tell you that as we go along," said Frank.
Clayton then ordered Barton to remain where he
was with a dozen of his men, telling him to form the
loose horses in front as suggested by Frank. The detachment for the barn-yard was sent forward under
Wheeler, while Wetherill was sent to occupy the road
above, and Bettle, with his men, accompanied Frank,
at the latter's request. Clayton also went with this
detachment. A few minutes sufficed to place the different parties at their respective posts and put them
in possession of their orders.
It was a ticklish thing to get Wetherill's detachment past the house without noise; but, partly by
taking to the meadow, and partly owing to the noise in
the house, where the Tories were now in high revel, it
was accomplished successfully.
The'road ran nearly north and south, directly in
front of the house. The barn was about fifty yards to
the south of the house, with only the width of the barnyard between it and the road.
The men who occupied the latter were posted behind its northern wall, facing the house.
Frank's and Bettle's men' now dismounted, and,
leaving their horses also behind the barn, with three
men to guard them, stole quietly and noiselessly to
the side of the house nearest the great road, which
was about four or five hundred yards distant. When
all was ready, Frank stole back to the corner of the barnyard, and, picking up a small stone, flung it across the
yard into the field beyond, where the guard was
stationed with the horses. A moment or two after, a
faint light was seen rising from that side of the barn.
Frank waited another moment till the light grew




88         THE QUAKER PARTISANS,
stronger and began to throw something of a glare
upon the sky.; then, yelling, "Fire! fire!" at the top
of his voice, he ran at full speed toward the house
and, banging and kicking at the door, he. shouted
again,"Fire! Hello, there!  The barn's afire!-Turn
out, Tommy Sanford, or your horses'11 be roasted
like rats!"
The door was thrown open instantly, and out poured
the disorderly crowd from the kitchen, intent upon
saving their horses. Taking no notice of Frank, who
sprang a little on one side to avoid being carried away
by the rush, the whole party went helter-skelter toward the barn, receiving, when within twenty yards
of the wall, the fire of a dozen carbines, right in their
faces. They stopped short, completely bewildered;
and, before they had recovered from their surprise, a
dozen heads, magnified by the sudden fright into a
hundred, were raised above the wall, and another
volley from a dozen pistols came, sending them to the
right about, in full stampede for the house. As they
came near, they were met by another volley from door
and window, when they dashed down the bank on
which the house stood, and up the road, only to be
turned again by the carbines of Wetherill's men, who
immediately moved down to the house and stationed
themselves in front of it.
The terrified fugitives ran in a confused crowd
down the road past the barn, taking another discharge
from the carbines of Wheeler's men as they passed,
and had the consolation, first, of seeing the dying
flame of a pile of burnt brushwood which Frank's
quick eye had noted as he came up at first, and which




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.              89
he had made use of to raise all the hubbub, and then,
as they slackened their pace for a moment, of hearing the cracking of a new dozen of carbines, and the
whistling of the balls about their ears, from Barton's
division at the bridge.
The next moment came the order "Forward," and
then the tramp of galloping hoofs, and then the wild
vision of a roadful of riderless horses coming upon
them. They broke at once; and, scrambling, leaping,
tumbling over anyhow, across the fence and into.the
meadow, they ran for life, while the spare horses of
the troop swept by like a small hurricane, trampling
into a jelly one unlucky fellow, who had stumbled in
his hurry and was unable to recover himself before
they were upon him.
As the fugitives cleared the fence, a quick, sharp
order came from the rear. "Over, and head them
off " The pursuers wheeled promptly; but, to Barton's chagrin, the tired horses absolutely refused to
take the leap, and, after two or three ineffectual attempts to spur them over, they were obliged to give
it up, contenting themselves with sending a random
discharge from their pistols after the now invisible
enemy. They then rode to the house, where they
found the rest of the troop collected, together with the
loose horses which had been stopped by Wetherill's
men.
As soon as the Tories had left the house, at the first
alarm, Frank, Bettle, and Clayton, with the men under
their command, had entered it, greatly to the alarm of
the old farmer and his family, who supposed them, at
first, to be another party of the enemy.
The next instant, however, just as the first volley
8*




90         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
from the barn-yard wall rattled on the air, Thomas
Sanford recognized Frank, and at the same moment
Jenny sprang from her seat, exclaiming, joyfully,"Oh, father, it's William I it's William I Now we're
safe I" and straightway gave vent to her joy in the
most inconsistent manner, by clinging to Bettle's neck
and sobbing pitifully. Bettle sustained her,-it was
necessary to put his arm around her waist to do
it, —and whispered a great many consoling things,
but in so low a voice that I really can't tell what they
were.
Indeed, he was so pleasantly engaged. that, for a
wonder, he paid no attention to the fighting that was
going on for the five minutes or so that succeeded
their first entry into the house, hardly deigning to look
around even at the discharge from the door and windows as the Tories rushed back from the barn.
By the time the fray was over and the whole troop
was assembled, Jenny had become sufficiently composed to be able to sit on her chair without the assistance of Bettle's arm, and the farmer, turning to Frank,
inquired,"How did thee manage to be here just at the right
time?  I thought thee was in Philadelphy."
" Don't you know me well enough yet, Uncle
Tommy," said Frank, "to know that I'm  always
where people don't expect to find me? Look'e here;
if we hadn't been whipped down at Brummadgem, an'
had to run for it, I reckon you'd ha' been in an ugly
fix- "
" Whipped I" interrupted one of the brothers; "we
heard the firin', and knew there must be somethin'
goin' on. But where's the rest of the army?"




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             91
"Gone to Chester or Hook; don' know which," said
Frank.
"Then the country will be too hot to hold you,"
said Thomas, " and us too, after this night's work."
"I reckon we'll make it hot enough to burn anybody's fingers that meddles with us," said Frank.
"But look'e here, Uncle Tommy; there's forty men of
us here, and sixty bosses, that hain't tasted bit or sup
since noon, an' done a good deal o' hard fightin, besides. Got anything in the house to eat, an' some
cider or whisky, an' some fodder for the beasts?
We're all mortal hungry an' dry."
"We have plenty in house and barn," said the
old man; "only we haven't room  to put up the
horses. "
"Never mind that," said Frank; "toss it out on
the ground, an' the bosses'11 take care o' themselves."
The two sons then went out with Frank to procure
food and water for the horses, while Jenny and her
mother busied themselves in preparing supper for their
unexpected guests.
This Frank Lightfoot, who has figured rather prominently in the events I have detailed so far, is worth a
more particular description than I have as yet given
him.
He was an old Indian-fighter, having been a wagonboy in Braddock's army at the defeat of the latter near
Fort Duquesne, in the month of July, 1755. He had
seen his elder brother, a teamster, shot down by his
side at the first volley from the bushes, and, seizing the
musket of a fallen soldier, had at once thrown himself
into the ranks of the Virginians under Washington,the only corps in the whole army that had the slight



92         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
est idea of how to manage such an affair, and who were
already scattering among the trees,-and had done a
man's full share in the work of saving the besotted
regulars, and such of their officers as survived the murderous storm of rifle-balls which were pouring into
their solid ranks.
From the day of that disastrous blunder of old-fogyism, to the commencement of the Revolution, he had
employed himself as a scout and Indian-fighter, attaching himself as a volunteer to every expedition that was
sent against the savages, and always rendering valuable service by his skill and daring, and his intimate
knowledge of all the stratagems used by those most
perplexing of all enemies.
He was, at the time he joined Clayton's troop, about
thirty-five years of age; thin, wiry, with one of those
prematurely seamed, old-looking faces which you sometimes see upon young men, sallow in complexion, with
strong black hair, and burning black eyes gleaming
from under it; with iron muscles, and no nerves at all;
he would ride, if necessary, for forty hours at a stretch,
without sleep or food, except a biscuit now and then,
and a draught of water. No fatigue seemed to exhaust
him, and no danger deterred him in carrying out orders.
He was attached to Barton's division of the troop, and
was his right-hand man, the one to whom he always
looked whenever anything of difficulty or danger was
to be undertaken.
He was also a great favorite with Bettle, to whom
he was strongly attached; the two, though of such
unequal age and education, being drawn together by
some occult sympathy of their dare-devil temperaments,
and having now the Sanford family, with whom Frank




TIIE Q UAKER PARTISANS.           93
had lived previously to his enlistment, as a further
bond of union.
Bettle had by no means made him a confidant as to
his feelings toward Jenny, but from some expressions
he had let drop, at different times, after his return from
his expedition in July, Frank, with his natural acuteness, had no difficulty in seeing how matters stood.
To resume. After supper, the tired men and horses
passed the rest of the night in the sound sleep they so
much needed after their stormy day; the former on the
barn-floor, which John and Mahlon Sanford had covered
thickly with hay thrown from the mow, and the latter
on the ground outside.
Jenny had left the room as soon as possible after
supper was ready, feeling decidedly embarrassed at the
demonstration she had almost unconsciously made
when she first saw Bettle.
The officers were accommodated with rooms so far
as could be done in a house that had only two unoccupied, one of which belonged to the farmer's two sons,
who had volunteered to stand guard for the rest of the
night; and in a few minutes nothing was heard but the
long, heavy respirations of the tired sleepers, through
which rasped harshly, audible all through the house,
the prodigious snore of Mike away up in the garret
under the roof.
The brothers stood on guard until after sunrise, but
no further disturbance took place. The eventful scenes
of the next twenty-four hours, however, we must leave
for another chapter.




CHAPTER VII.
BY the time the sky began to redden over old Deborah's rock, with the reflected light from the east,
Frank was up, and out in the open air. He was a restless fellow, that Frank; getting awake at all manner
of unseasonable times, and sleeping, when he did sleep,
only by short naps, and as lightly as a weasel. He
had acquired, perforce, in his exposed and adventurous
life, two other faculties in this connection, which had
more than once been of signal value to him,-the power
of going to sleep at a minute's notice, anywhere, and
the power of waking at any moment he chose, and of
staying awake for almost any indefinite length of
time.
He had slept longer than was usual with him on
this occasion, for even his cast-steel frame had felt
the effects of the tremendous labor of the day and
evening. He was the first one out, however, leaving
all the rest, officers and men, in profound slumber.
He found John and Mahlon Sanford still on guard,
patrolling up and down, each with one of the Tories'
muskets on his shoulder. It was light enough by this
time to see distinctly, and the first things that caught
Frank's eye were the dead bodies of five of the Tories
lying a short distance from the barn-yard wall, as they
had fallen before the two volleys fired from behind it.
Two more were lying in front of the house, and in the
(94)




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.              ]5
middle of the road lay the unfortunate fellow who had
been run down and trampled to death by the horses.
"Look'e here, boys," said he to the two brothers,
"s'posin' we git these here corpusses out o' the way
afore your mother an' Jenny comes out. No use in
them a-seein''em. Let's drag'em round behind the
barn, an' after breakfast we'll have'em buried."
This was done, the propriety of the suggestion being
manifest; though the young men, less accustomed than
Frank to the sight of dead bodies, went about the
ghastly business with undisguised repugnance.
As they came back to remove the last one, they
found Mike standing over it, looking first at it and
then at Frank, in a state of utter bewilderment.
"Arrah, now, Misther Frank, an' is it yerself that's
here I an' what's the matther, anyhow?"
"Matter, you dunderhead!" said Frank; "where
were you last night, that you don't know what's the
matter?"
"Where was I, is it? Sure, an' wasn't I aslape in
me own paceful bed, all the blessed night?"
"Well, if you could sleep through all the firin' that
was goin' on, you've got more lead in your brains than
I thought," said Mahlon.
"Firin', is it?" said Mike, slowly; "well, now, I
thought I heard some noise wanst; an' I was goin' to
git up an' see what it was; an' thin jist as I got up,
d'ye see, I didn't git up at all, be rason that the slape
was heavy on me; an' thin, afore I know'd it, I was
down agin, an' divil a haporth did I know till I got
awake a little while ago, an' seen John an' Mally here
a-walkin' up an' down wid guns on their showlthers,
an' all the horses lyin' about; an' thin I got drissed an,




96         TIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
hurried down, an' bedad they were gone whin I kemrn;
an' I saw this poor fellow a-lyin' in the road, an' I
was lookin' at'im an' thryin' to make it all out, when
yees kem up."
"Look'e here, Mike," said Frank, "you must'list
in the reg'lar line for a sentry.  Here's the house tuk
by Tories, a battle fit in an' round it, the Tories druv
off, an' you slep' through it all. Just the fellow for a
reg'lar sentry. Here, bear a hand, an' let's git this
carron out o' the way afore anybody sees it."
" But how did you git here yerself, Misther Frank?"
inquired Mike, as they returned toward the house;
"an' who was it druv off the Tories?"
" Come last night, with what was left o' the troop,
from Brummadgem."
"The throop!" said Mike, in amazement. "Is it
the throop that's here?  Sure, I wonthered where
all the horses kemrn frum. Is Misther Bettle among'em?"
" Yes," said Frank.
"An' that rampin' divil of a horse of his I Be the
powers, Misther Frank, but ye ought to have seen the
fright he gev me whin he was here in harvest."
"Yes, I heard somethin' about that," said Frank.
"You tried the wise trick of lashin' him'cause he
flung you. If it hadn't been for Bettle, you'd ha' been
a dead man. He's got the same boss here now; you'd
better keep clear of him."
"Bedad, I'll do that same," said Mike, as they
walked toward the house.
Clayton and his officers were seated within, engaged in close consultation about something which
did not appear to be of a very pleasant nature, judg



THE QUAKER PARTISANS.              97
ing from the knit brows and grave, earnest tones of the
speakers.
As Frank appeared at the door, Clayton called him
within.
"Does thee know this country well?" he inquired;
" I am informed that there is a large force of Tories in
the neighborhood, of which those we routed last night
were only a detachment. I had rather avoid a fight
at present, particularly against odds, if it can be done."
" How many are they, Uncle Tommy?" asked Frank,
addressing Thomas Sanford.
"About two hundred, Riah Wood'r't told me.
They're stationed at his mill just up the creek; thee
knows where it is."
"Reckon I do;'bout quarter of a mile above the
cold spring. If there's that many, we'd better git
away from this without losin' time. They're too strong
for us."
" If they know our strength, they are," said Wetherill;
"but I rather think they were too much frightened last
night to have much idea of our number: headed off in
so many directions, I think it more likely they will
suppose us to be four or five times as strong as we are.'
"They may do that," said Clayton, "but the truth
will soon be discovered. Besides, our ammunition
must be short; how much did thee say there was,
Levi?" he added, addressing Barton.
"Six rounds apiece for the carbines, and about
twice as many for the pistols."
"Not quite so bad as I feared," said Clayton.
"We have the cartridge-boxes of the Tories, too."
"Plenty of powder, but no balls that will go in our
pieces. We might use their muskets, it is true, but
9




98         THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
with our numbers we could only make a fight behind
shelter, and when the ammunition was exhausted we
would be at their mercy. Nevertheless, we'll take the
cartridges with us."
"Why, there's Mary Woodward!" exclaimed Jenny,
suddenly, pointing to the figure of a girl on horseback,
who was approaching at a rapid gallop along the road;
"she must have something to tell, or she wouldn't be
coming over so early in the morning."
The girl came up at a sharp gallop, and, checking
her horse, without dismounting, exclaimed, "Father
sent me over to tell you to leave at once! They know
how weak you are, and as soon as the men have had
their breakfast they'll be over and attack you, with
Black Rawdon at their head. They'll be here in an
hour. "
"A good deal can be done in an hour," said Clayton;
"but there's no time to lose. Have the horses got
ready, Frank; we must eat our breakfast in the saddle.
The loose horses had better be left behind: they will
only encumber us."
In a few minutes the troop was in the saddle.
"Now," said Clayton, addressing Thomas Sanford,
"one thing more; it won't do for thee and thy people
to remain here if the Tories are coming back. They
will revenge last night's work on anybody they may
find. Has thee.any plan in view?"
" No," said Thomas, " there's nothing that I can do;
there are plenty of neighbors where we would be welcome, but we would be no safer than here, and would
draw them into danger besides. No, we must take
what comes."
"You'll take what comes to us," said Clayton: "if




TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.             99
we escape, you escape; if we are cut off or taken, it
may be that you will have to share the lot with us;
rot if we can help it, though, even then.  Whatever
may befall us, you shall be saved, if possible."
It was then arranged that the old farmer, his wife,
and Jenny should go forward at once under the escort
of Bettle and what remained of his division,-some
fourteen or fifteen, including'Riah Woodward's three
sons and four of the other men he had obtained
on his former visit,-under Frank's guidance. - Two
of the farmer's horses were already equipped with
side-saddles, and Bettle felt a pleasant glow of pride
as he saw how lightly and gracefully Jenny sprang to
her seat from Frank's hand and gathered up the reins,
and how easily but steadily she sat in the saddle. Her
mother mounted in a more staid and sober manner,
as became a matron of advancing years and comfortable ponderosity; but, once in the saddle, she was
evidently nearly as much at home there as her daughter.
All being now ready, Frank started with his party,
and, proceeding down the road as far as the bars near
the little bridge, turned at once into the cornfield,
carefully putting up the bars after all had passed, and
made for the woods, intending to keep as much as possible under cover until they reached the place he had
indicated as a rendezvous. This was a spring, a little
more than a quarter of a mile south of the- old Lancaster road, which I have already mentioned, but which
is now better known as the Strasburg road, and just at
the western edge of West Chester.
The spring lay in a little hollow, between the present
State road and Market Street, and was at that time
surrounded by woods, which covered a considerable




100        TILE QUAKER PARTISANS.
portion of the country, particularly-to the soutL and
west.
I1eading well southward until they struck the run
which flows from the spring and empties into the
Bradywine at Jefferis' Ford, they followed the course
of the stream, only deviating from it where it passed
through open meadows, and carefully avoiding the
traveled roads.
All this care was owing partly to Frank's habitual
caution, and partly to the fact that he had a strong
suspicion that the route of the British would lie somewhere in this direction. Even should the main body
not cross in the neighborhood, he felt very sure there
would be enough foraging parties prowling about to
make it advisable to keep out of sight as much as
possible.
They were proceeding in this cautious manner, with
Frank about fifty yards in advance, on foot, when they
saw him stop suddenly near the side of a narrow cartroad which ran across the course they were pursuing,
throw himself down with his ear to the ground for a
moment, and then, springing up, wave them back
with his hand, and swarm like a squirrel up the trunk
of a tall hickory-tree that almost overhung the path.
The party stopped instantly, and the three farmhorses, with their riders, were led behind a clump of
saplings which stood near, and which screened them
effectually from view at any distance. In the mean
time, the trained horses of the troop, at the word of
command, had crouched flat on the ground, each with
his rider lying behind him, with carbine unslung and
sword hanging at his wrist. In this position, a slight
rise in the ground prevented them from seeing the




TIE QU4AKER PARTISANS.            101
road, and they lay there in grim silence, awaiting such
signal as Frank might give.
A few moments of anxious suspense followed, and
Bettle was about to move forward to a position whence
he could command the road, when suddenly a light
step was heard among the trees to one side, and the
next moment Frank appeared.
"What is it, Frank?" said Bettle. "British or
Tories?"
"Red coats," said Frank. "A  hundred reg'lars
a-comin' double file down the road yonder. Git the
women furder back among the trees. We're all too
near."
"Is there time?" asked Bettle, anxiously.
"Time enough if we don't stand blatherin' about
it, but git to work. They're quarter of a mile off
yet."
Orders were at once given accordingly, and the troopers retreated rapidly and silently until they reached a
spot about a hundred yards back, where the trees
were thicker and the ground overgrown with bushes.
As soon as Frank had given his information, Bettle
had gone to where Jenny and her parents were waiting anxiously.
"We must go deeper into the woods," he said,
calmly, " as there is a party of British near us that I
had rather avoid just now."
"Is there danger, does thee think?" inquired Martha
Sanford.
"No, not if we are prudent; but we had better
move." So saying, he took the bridle of Jenny's
horse, and the whole party moved forward, the men
accompanying them in close order on either side and
9*




102        TIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
in the rear, until they reached the spot already mentioned, where the troop-horses again crouched down
like cats among the bushes, with their riders behind
them.
The farm-horses, not having been trained fo this,
remained standing, and Bettle wasted no time in vain
attempts to make them lie down, but, turning to the
nearest man, said, with a slight gesture toward Jenny
and her parents," Woodward, lead their horses down into the hollow
there around the bend of the run, and stay there until
you hear a whistle. If there is but one, come back;
if there are two, make ready for a start, but keep close;
if you hear three, wait for nothing more, but run! their
safety will depend on you then."
Woodward took his post at once, and was about to
lead them off, when Jenny beckoned to Bettle, who
immediately stepped to her side.
"Is thee going with us?" she whispered, bending
down toward him.
"No, Jenny," said he; "my place is here among my
men."
"So is mine, then," said she: "if there is danger,
why shouldn't I share it?"
"It would do no good, Jenny; it would only unnerve me and the men to have you exposed to danger.
I hope they will pass by without seeing us; but they
may see our tracks and follow them, and then a treefight will be inevitable, and you would lose your life
without accomplishing any good whatever-or, what
is a great deal worse, you may fall alive into hands
that know neither honor nor pity. No, no, Jenny, you
must be as safe as I can make you, or I can do nothing.




PfIE QUAKER PARTISANS.           103
You may pray for us all, if you will, for if it comes to
a fight we'll need it."
"Thee is right, William; I'll go," said Jenny, pressing his hand, "and I'll pray that their eyes may be
held, so that we may escape without bloodshed."
Several precious moments were lost in this conversation, and Bettle watched the receding figures with a
great deal more anxiety than he had manifested while
talking, until they turned the bend of the stream and
passed out of sight.
As he crouched down by his horse, he could hear
the regular heavy tramp of what was evidently a considerable body of men passing along the road below,
though, owing to the nature of the ground, he could
see nothing.
Frank, however, had already climbed the tree behind which Bettle lay, and, completely hidden from
view by the leaves and branches, was watching the
enemy closely.
Suddenly came from the road the command, " Halt!"
Bettle gave a light tap on the tree with his swordhilt, which was immediately answered from above.
" What are they doing?" he inquired, in a low voice,
laying his mouth close to the trunk, that the sound
might be better transmitted.
"'Xaminin' the tracks," said Frank, in the same
tone; and then continued, " Lay low: they're looking
this way; now they're tryin' to count'em; there's four
or five of'em working up on the trail; now they've lost
it again."
"Well?" said Bettle, as Frank paused.
" Now they've gone back to talk to the officer; they're
pointin' this way; the officer's a-comin' this way him



104        TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
self, now; no, he's stopped, an's shakin' his head; now
he's gone back, an' the men are formin' agin."
" Fall in, men, fall in," came the order, in an impatient tone, from below; "we've no time to get into an
ambuscade hunting rebels in the woods, if there are
any there at all. Fall in; forward, march I"
To Bettle's intense relief, the steady tramp became
audible again, and in a few minutes passed out of
hearing.
Frank slid down from the tree.
"That was a mighty close graze," said he, coolly;
"reckon they'd ha' treed us, sure, if old Eli Flint had
been with'em an' got holt o' one end of a trail like they
did, an' he'd ha' told how many there was of us, too."
"Who's Eli Flint?" said Bettle.
"An old fellow-scout o' mine, an' the best hand on
a blind trail I ever seen. He could find sign where an
Injin himself couldn't, and he'd follow it like a hound.
But I reckon wwe'd better git on."
" Yes," said Bettle, " we've lost time enough; I want
to reach the spring by noon."
While all this was going on, the party in the thicket
were waiting the result, straining their ears to hear
any sound that might indicate the course events were
taking.
The first sound they heard was a low whistle.
"What's that?" inquired Thomas Sanford, hastily.
"Leftenant Bettle's call," said Woodward, shortly.
"'St I Listen if another comes."
No other came, however, and Woodward, exclaiming, "All's right, then," prepared to return with his
charge, when there was a rustling in the bushes behind him, and a large dog sprang from them to the




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            105
side of Jenny's horse, and with a joyful whine rose
upon his hind legs, and, placing his fore-paws upon
the skirt of her riding-dress, rubbed his black muzzle
fondly against the hand which was now patting his
head.
"Why, Carlo, what brought thee here?" said
Jenny.
"Sure enough," muttered Woodward, compressing
his lips, "what did bring him here? Well, we'll see
directly."
They now left their concealment and joined the
others, Carlo frisking about his old friends the farmhorses.
"Frank," said Woodward, "just search about the
dog: he ain't here for nothing."
"Here, Carlo," said Frank; and, as the dog came
close to him and stood by his side, he noticed a slight
bulge in one part of the leathern collar, around which
a bit of twine was tied. Slipping his finger beneath,
he discovered a folded scrap of paper. Detaching and
opening it, he handed it to Bettle, who read, roughly
traced with a pencil:"The Tories are on us, two hundred strong. We
have gained the rock, and can hold it for a little while.
If there is any place where Thomas and his family can
be placed in safety, leave them and come back; if not,
push on to Philadelphia with all speed, and bring
such help as thee can, as soon as they are safe.
" CLAYTON."
The dog had evidently swum the Brandywine, for
the paper was wet, and so discolored by the wet leather
of the collar that Bettle had at first some difficulty in
making it out.




CHAPTER VIII.
HERE was a complication of the business, with a
vengeance! What was to be done? With his already
weakened force reduced by one-third, and that third
composed of the best fighters in the troop, Clayton,
though his position on the rock was a strong one, was
in by no means an enviable situation.
He had left the house with his force, soon after the
departure of Frank and his party, but had not proceeded a hundred yards down the road, before the
Tories emerged from the wood near the house and instantly gave chase. At least they thought they were
giving chase.
But the small body of men in advance of them did
not seem to have reached the same conclusion; for, as
the Tories came within some sixty or seventy yards of
them, they halted, faced about, and delivered their fire
in a volley which cut sharply among their ranks.
The whole body halted for an instant, staggered, not
so much by the fire itself as by the cool hardihood and
effrontery of the handful of men from whom it came.
The halt was but momentary, however, and the next
moment saw Clayton and his men in the meadow which
lay between the road and the Brandywine, making at
full speed for the creek. Some fifty of the Tories, who
were mounted, leaped into the meadow at the same
moment, and there was a desperate race across it, one
(106)




THIE QUAKER PARTISANS.            107
party making for the creek, the other trying to head
them off and turn them back upon the footmen, who
had by this time formed along the road and were
keeping up a brisk but ineffectual fire upon the flying
troop.
Disregarding the fire both from the road and from
the horsemen, which their rapid motion rendered harmless, Clayton and his.men spurred toward the stream,
and reached the bank about thirty yards ahead of their
pursuers, who, not so well mounted, had lost ground
in the endeavor to bear down upon their flank and turn
them.
The foremost rider,-Clayton was in the rear, the
commander's place in a retreat,-as he reached the
bank, spurred his horse at it, without a moment's
check or hesitation, and went into the water with a
flying leap that carried him at once twenty feet from
the bank. He knew the stream, however, and had
selected a spot where the water was shallower than
it was higher up and nearer the rock. Even there,
however, it reached nearly to the horse's girths. The
whole troop followed him, spreading out, however,
both to avoid striking each other as they leaped, and
to present a less compact mark for the fire of the
Tories' pistols as they were crossing.
The next minute the horses were leaping and scrambling up the opposite bank like cats. As the last one
gained his footing on the firm ground, Clayton, who
was still in the stream, halted for a moment to look
around at his pursuers.
Their horses, the ordinary farm-cattle of the neighborhood, which they had seized and pressed into their
service, were swerving from the leap, and rearing and




108        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
plunging as their riders strove to spur them over the
bank. Clayton's men also halted, standing in the open
order in which they had reached the land.
The leader of the Tories, an old campaigner,-none of
your militia captains,-reined up his horse upon the
other bank, and, leveling his pistol at Clayton, fired;
the ball grazed his ear, but did no harm beyond drawing a drop or two of blood.
" Thee ought to do better than that, so near," said
Clayton, in his cool, grave way. "I'll give thee a lesson." And, leveling his own pistol in turn, he fired.
He was not in the habit of missing his aim, and the
Tory leader would have reached the end of his fighting
on the spot, had he not, with a readiness that showed
practice, at the instant he saw Clayton raising his hand,
forced his horse to rear. The ball struck the poor brute
just in front of the girth, and he rolled over with his
rider upon the grass.
While the latter was recovering himself, Clayton
reached the bank, and put his troop in motion.
By this time two or three of the enemy had forced
their horses into the water, when the rest followed
without hesitation, and the whole body were crossing
the stream; the footmen also had reached it farther
down, and were crossing.
Clayton might possibly have escaped, but his plan
from the first had been to gain the rock, not being
willing to risk a long chase or running fight, in the
tired condition of his horses; for, though the few hours
they had slept on the preceding night had refreshed
them a little, they still needed rest. He knew the rock
and its capabilities for defense pretty well, from descriptions Bettle had given him; and, with the prompt



THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             109
ness which was one of his characteristics, he had taken
the bold resolution, the moment he saw the enemy, to
reach it if possible, and hold it until his horses were
rested or help came. Twenty-four hours would do for
the former; less might bring the latter.
Turning to Mahlon Sanford, who was riding beside
him, he inquired if he knew any path by which they
could reach the top with horses, without going around
by the ridge.
"Yes," answered the boy, promptly: " when Bettle
was here in the summer, I told him there was none;
but since then me an' John's been tryin' the place to
see if there was, an' we found one where I think we can
get up. It's pretty rough, though. Are the beasts surefooted?"
"As squirrels," said Clayton.
" Then we can do it," said the boy. " Can't we,
John?"
John nodded, and they rode rapidly on to the foot of
the rock.
There was no time to lose, for the enemy's horsemen
had already reached the bank, and were in motion
toward them, a little more cautiously, however, now
that they were near the shelter of the trees with which
the back and sides of the rock were at that time covered,
while the footmen, who had also crossed, were pushing
forward from below.
Placing the two Sanfords in front, and taking the
rear himself, he gave the word, and they moved forward
on their break-neck expedition.
Up they toiled, now scrambling over moss-grown
boulders, now leaping over fallen tree-trunks, the horses
in advance, following the one which Mahlon was lead10




110        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
ing, the men on foot covering the rear, and holding the
enemy in check with their carbines, until they reached
the top, breathless.
Here, for the time, they were safe; for, as Bettle had
said, they could have held it, with plenty of ammunition
and provisions, against an army.
"Now," said Clayton to Wheeler, dryly, "I want
to send a message to Bettle. If thee can tell me how
to do it, I'll be obliged to thee."
"I can tell thee how to do it," said Mahlon; "jest
thee write it down, and I'll send it."
Clayton looked at him, but he was evidently in
earnest; and accordingly he tore a leaf out of a small
memorandum-book, and hastily scribbled down the
note which ended the last chapter, and handed it to
Mahlon. The latter immediately fastened it in the
way I have described to the collar of the dog Carlo,
who had accompanied them throughout the whole
scene.
" There, now, Carlo," said he, when he had secured
the paper, "sik Jenny; sik'em out, old boy; hi on i"
The dog looked up with his bright, intelligent eyes
into the boy's face as he spoke, and then started down
the hill, running the gauntlet of the enemy's fire, but
escaping without a scratch, crossed the stream, and
made directly for the house, where, after smelling
around for a few moments, he gave a short, quick bark
or two, started off at a gallop with his nose to the
ground, and came up with the fugitives just late
enough to avoid betraying them to the regulars who
had passed along the road below.
When Bettle had read the note to himself, he read
it to Frank.




THE QUA KER PARTISANS.            111
"By the hokey " said the latter, "look'e here 
we're in what old Eli used to call a'corn-twisted
diffikilty;' we can't leave the folks here; if we take'em on to Philadelfy, it's a chance if they don't chaw
up the whole troop afore we can git back-Stay! I
know a place off here, right in the woods, out o' the
way o' stragglers, where they'll be safe enough till we
can come for'em."
"Whose place is it?" said Bettle.
" Why, long Johnny Mac Allan's," said Frank; "ef
I hadn't had my skull so'full of other things, I'd ha'
thunk o' him at first."
" Will he be willing to run any risk?"
"Well, I reckon he won't trouble himself much
about that; he'll take'erm if I ask him; an' I'd like to
see the man that'd meddle with anybody he promised
to take keer of."
"We must try him," said Bettle; and then, approaching Jenny, he read the note to her, saying, "I'm
afraid we must go back at once, Jenny; Frank knows
a place here in the woods where you can all stay in
safety until we return, or until the coast is clear, so
that you can get home again. It is at the house of an
acquaintance of his, named Mac Allan."
"I've heard of him," said Jenny, "and if Frank
says so, and thee thinks best, we ought to go. I'll tell
father about it."
She communicated the state of affairs briefly to her
father, to whom, also, Bettle read the note.
" I know Mac Allan well," said the old man; "it's
*the best thing we can do; thee must go back at once
to the rock, and help the captain."
Nothing more was said, and the party struck off into




112        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
the woods toward Mac Allan's house, which was about
a quarter of a mile off.
It was a tolerably large, but rudely-built, log house,
with perhaps half an acre of cleared ground around it.
As they emerged from the wood upon this open space,
they were greeted by the open-mouthed rush of half a
dozen savage bull-dogs at them, while Frank's eye,
which never missed anything, detected the muzzles of
two or three rifles poking out from loop-holes in the
wall.
First speaking to the dogs, who recognized his voice
and stopped, though they eyed his companions suspiciously, he called, "Hello, Johnny, take down them
shootin'-irons an' come out; I want to speak to you.
Ha' you forgot Frank Lightfoot a'ready?"
The door opened, and a tall man stepped out; one of
those long, double-jointed, broad-shouldered, big-footed,
big-fisted, slab-sided fellows, in whom all grace and
symmetry have been sacrificed to make room for a
double quantity of simple sledge-hammer strength.
"Why, Frank," said he, in a voice a good deal
milder and smoother -than his appearance indicated,
" why, Frank, is that you? And Tommy Sanford, I
swan! What's the matter? What's brung you all into
the woods this mornin'?"
"'Cause we wanted to get the wimmen-folks out o'
Black Rawdon's clutches, an' we wa'n't strong enough
to fight him."
"Black Rawdon I  Is -he up in the neighborhood? That's a bad lookout, sure. How many men
has he?"
" Why, about two hundred; an' that ain't the worst;
look'e here, Johnny; he's got the captain, with only




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            113
about twenty-five men, treed on Deborah's Rock; we
jest got word by old-Carlo here."
"How?"
"By old Carlo; note fastened to his collar."
"My sakes alive!" said the old man, "that's wus
an' more of it. What are ye goin' to do? Who's these
with you? Part of the troop?"
"Yes," said Frank, in a low voice; "the officer's
one o' the leftenants,-Bettle.  We want you to take
charge o' the wimmen-folks an' the old man, an' keep'em safe while we go back to the rock; for the captain'11 want all the help we can give him. Will you do it?"
"Certain," said Mac Allan; "light down, folks, an'
come into the house."
They did so, and, after seeing them safely within,
Bettle went to the old man, and, taking his hand, said,
earnestly," Now, John, will you take care of them truly and
faithfully? Will you defend them as you would your
own family, while you can fire a shot or strike a
blow? I'm not a man to forget those who show kindness to me or those I care for."
Mac Allan looked hard at Bettle for a moment, and
then glanced with a look of interrogation at Frank,
who answered it with a wink and a slight screw of his
head.
"We'll take care of'em, leftenant; never fear: if we
can't do it by fightin', I've got a place to hide'em in
that all the Tories in the country couldn't find."
"Well," said Bettle, who had already bidden Jenny
good-by, " then we'll go back as fast as we can, and.. "
"Wait a bit," said Mac Allan; "I reckon you won't
be any wus off for a little extra help." And, taking
10*




114        TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.
down a tin horn that hung by the door, he blew a long
blast on it; it was answered in a minute or two by the
appearance of ten stalwart young men, all of the same
powerful, double-jointed frame as the speaker.
"There," said he, "there's ten boys that can bark a
squirrel off a tree an' never raise the fur. Boys, git
your rifles an' powder-horns; we're goin' to Brandywine to have a lick at Black Rawdon an' his gang."
"All right, dad; hurray I" shouted the boys, as they
hurried into the house, and reappeared directly, each
armed with a long, heavy rifle and accouterments, and
with a tomahawk in his belt.
"But," said Bettle, "won't this leave the place
without protection in case of attack?"
" What! with the old woman an' the three gals,
that can all handle a rifle as well as I can, or the
boys? I'd like to see the rapscallions git in while
they're there!  Never fear, leftenant; the gal an' the
old folks'11 be as safe as if they were in the middle of
Washington's camp."
"All right," whispered Frank, answering a look from
Bettle; "I know'em all; the old woman an' the gals'11
fight like she-painters, an' they're as cunnin' as Injuns.
We'll find em all safe, if we ever git back."
The old man then went into the house to give final
directions to his wife and daughters. When he came
out again, the party, strengthened by this valuable addition to their force, moved rapidly back through the
woods toward the Brandywine, heading, however, for
Jefferis' Ford, which they crossed, and proceeded up the
west bank of the river, keeping in the woods with
which the country at that day was pretty much
covered.




TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.           115
On the way, Frank gave Mac Allan a description of
the events of the preceding day and night, which occupied the time until they reached the neighborhood of
the rock. The old man listened attentively, giving a
slight grunt now and then, until Bettle ordered a halt.
" You know the country, Woodward," said he to one
of'Riah's boys, who was riding near him. " How near
can we get to the rock without being seen?"
"Within a hundred yards; but not now. We must
wait till night."
"I want to let the captain know we're in the neighborhood," said Bettle. " Can you get around so as to
let him hear you whistle from above, near the ford?"
"Yes," said the young man, " I can do that; an' if
you'll let me have Jim and Harry  -"
" Your brother and Dandy Harry?"
" Yes; let us all go, and we can raise the whistle in
three different places; I want to puzzle Black Rawdon's men, and lead'em off on a wild-goose chase, if
I can. After we've whistled, I'll go up to the mill
and let Mary know we're about. She's a quick-witted
girl, and may be able to help us a good deal."
Permission having been given, the three young men
started together, on foot, and before many minutes a
long, clear whistle, more like the shriek of a small
locomotive than any sound coming from human lungs
and lips, was heard from the direction of the ford;
another came from the old Lancaster road; and a
third from the woods at some distance west of the
rock. Almost simultaneously with the last they heard
an answering whistle from the top of the rock, showing that the party there had heard and understood the
signal.




CHAPTER IX.
ON reaching the top of the rock, Clayton had seen
all its capabilities at a glance. He saw that there was
hardly a possibility of reaching it, in the face of an
enemy of anything like ordinary vigilance, from any
point except the back of the narrow ridge I have
already described. This could be barricaded, and must
be barricaded, or the Tories could come up in full
strength and drive them bodily over the face of the
precipice. It was a miserably confined place, however,
for so many horses to stand, much less manceuvre. Indeed, the latter was impossible, as a single false step
of one of the upper horses on the dry, slippery grass
might have sent himself and half the others with him
rolling down the steep bluff
They were arranged, therefore, in as compact order
as possible, on the small plateau on the south side of
the ridge, and made to lie down, while all hands went
to work to pry up such of the smaller boulders as appeared at all manageable, and roll them to a point indicated by Clayton, at about one hundred and fifty
feet back from the brow of the rock. He had selected
this because he had observed that several large trees
stood in a line across it, close enough together to
afford a reasonable hope of being able to fill up the
spaces between them with stones and logs for a sufficient distance to block up the only avenue of approach.
(116)




THE QUAKER PAR TiSANS.           117
They had no axes, of course, but several of the men
were armed with hatchets and tomahawks; and they
set to work to cut down such saplings as were not too
large, and laid them along the barricade, interlacing
them between the trees; they contrived, finally, to
erect a breastwork, which, flimsy as it would have
been on open ground or against artillery, looked as
though it would answer its present purpose very well.
The enemy had stationed themselves on the ridge
and along the northern bluff, satisfied that no attempt
at escape would be made in any other direction, and
intending to wait until night before they ventured an
attack. They had heard the signal whistles, and the
answer from the rock, and knew that help was at
hand for the besieged, but had no idea to what extent;
they were not aware, of course, of the detachment
having been sent off with Jenny and her parents, and
supposed that they had the whole force in their
clutches; they were greatly puzzled, therefore, by the
signals, coming from so many different directions, and
the evident understanding between those who made
them and the besieged party.
On the other hand, Clayton, satisfied that his message had been received, and that Bettle, with his force,
was in the neighborhood, gave himself no further
trouble, but quietly waited, keeping a vigilant watch,
however, through the rest of the day, prepared to
second any plan that Bettle and Frank might adopt.
Night came on without any more signals having
been given; but still the handful of men waited patiently around a fire they had built near the breastwork, so as to throw a strong glare of light among
the trees on the ridge beyond.




118        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
About an hour after sunset, Barton's ear caught a
low whistle proceeding from somewhere about the front
of the rock. He answered it softly, and it was repeated
in the same tone, followed instantly by the sharp chirp
of a katvdid.
"That must be Frank," said Barton, rising to go
toward the sound. A hand was laid upon his arm.
" Better let me go," said Mahlon Sanford, in a whisper. "Does thee see the sky?" pointing overhead to the
dense black clouds with which it was covered. " Once
out o' the firelight, an' thee couldn't see a step before
thee; thee'd roll over the edge before thee thought o'
bein' near it."
" But why should you go into danger to save me?"
said Barton.
"'Cause the troop'ud git no good by thy goin', and'ud git some loss if thee tumbled over the rocks in the
dark, as thee'd be most sure to do, not knowin' the
ground; I know every step of it, an' so does Frank,
if it's him. Besides, if anybody's to be lost, I can be
best spared; boys ain't much'count, anyhow."
The boy gave this concluding estimate of the value of
his branch of the species, not in a whining or sentimental
or didactic or misanthropic manner, but in the simplest
and most natural way possible, as if it were merely an
abstract proposition that had no particular interest for
anybody.
Barton was touched by it; but he saw its force, and
allowed the boy to pass him, while he followed as well
as he could in the darkness, which, among the trees in
the shadows of the rocks, and under the cloud-covered
sky, was intense.
Keeping well to the right, Mahlon felt his way among




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             119
the stones to where the ground became much broken,
but with a general, rapid slope toward the edge. Here
he stopped, and waited till Barton, who was a few feet
behind, came up.
"He's right under that big piece," said the boy,
pointing to a large oval mass of stone which stands
balanced, as it were, on the very edge of the precipice,
but which then looked only like a spot of somewhat
more intense black in the surrounding darkness. " I
know.he's right there; but it's so dark there's no telling
who's who, an' if we come too near him without lettin'
him know who we are, he might shoot, thinkin' we was
Tories. Thee knows the signals, I don't; s'pose thee
tries'em."
" I will," said Barton; "I'm not afraid of his shooting at us, if it is Frank; but it may be one of the
wolves that are lying in wait for us out yonder."
" What will thee do, if it is?" inquired the boy, in
the same noiseless whisper in which the whole conversation had been carried on.
"Over!" was the laconic answer, followed by a
whistle, clear and distinct, but which would have been
inaudible a hundred feet off. An answer came instantly from the very spot Mahlon had indicated.
"So far, good," muttered Barton to himself; "let's
see if he'll answer the katydid."
The note was sounded, and was immediately answered by another from the same spot, followed by the
shrill twitter of a tree-frog.
" Frank," said Barton, in a low tone, "is that you?
It's all right; come out."
"Keep where you are; I'm comin'," said a voice;
and then Barton heard footsteps making their way




120        THE QUAKER PARTISAiVS.
slowly and carefully along the dangerous route, and in
half a minute more Frank was by his side.
" By the hokey I" said the latter, " but that was a
climb I It's bad enough in daylight; but such a night
as this!-Look'e here! all safe?"
"Yes; not a man lost"
"Anybody hurt?"
"Captain's ear grazed; that's all."
" Hosses up?"
"Yes, just above. Where are the boys?"
"Off in the woods yonder, jest across the meadow,
an' long Johnny Mac Allan, with his ten double-fisted
sons, with their rifles."
" Johnny an' his boys!" said Mahlon, joyfully; " are
they here? Gosh I but we'll have somethin' like fightin',
now!"
The two men and the boy had been making their
way back to the fire during this conversation.
"Why, Frank!" said Clayton, as they approached,
" how did thee contrive to get up here?"
"Scrambled, somehow," said Frank; "there's a sort
o' path up around the big rock that sticks out over the
water, but it wouldn't do for anybody to try it at night
unless he knew the ground. But look'e here! that
ain't what I come for." He then told Clayton pretty
much the same in substance as he had already told
Barton, adding, " Some of us went to Sanford's house,
an' found everything just as we left it; so we carried
off the muskets an' cartridge-boxes the rascals had left
there, over to Wood'r't's Mill; took all the provisions
too; Jim an' Harry's been at the mill all day, runnin'
bullets an' makin' cartridges for the carbines ani' pistols.
Mary an' the old woman's been busy bakin' an'




THE QUAKER PARTIS'ANS.           121
cookin', an' at midnight the scow'11 be down here
under the big stone with a load o' provisions an' ammunition, an' feed for the bosses, enough to last a
week."
"Then we are safe enough," said Clayton; "they
can't drive us from here, if we have food and ammunition; and I think it likely, with our force in front,
and Bettle with his men to worry them in flank and
rear, we may contrive to hold them a little uneasy. I
see thee has thy cord with thee."
"Certain I" said Frank; "don't ketch me travelin'
without it, nohow."
" Does thee think," said Clayton, dropping his voice
so as to be barely audible to Frank, who was sitting
close beside him, "does thee think-don't look around
yet-thee could find the body that belongs to that
head-don't move thine, look out of the corner of thy
eye —that is peering above the bank close to that big
hickory? The third one from the end of the breastwork."
"Wait," said Frank, in the same tone; "may-be
he's heard too much." And, changing his position
slightly, as if to rest himself, he managed to sink lazily
into a recumbent position, with his elbow on the
ground and his head resting on his hand, with his face
turned sufficiently toward the point indicated to allow
him to see without the appearance of scrutinizing it
particularly. Sure enough, there, right at the base of
the tree, and partly hidden by it, was a clump of green
leaves, which Frank was certain had not been there
when he first came up. A close scrutiny through his
half-closed lids showed him a pair of eyes gleaming
from under the leaves, in the light of the fire.
11




122        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
Satisfied as to this, Frank then said, in a louder
voice,"I'm goin' to lay down where the fire won't shine
in my face, an' try to get a nap."
So saying, he sauntered off a few feet toward the
farther side of the ridge, and lay down behind one of
the large fragments of rock near its edge, so as to
bring it between himself and the spy, who still maintained his position. The moment he was out of sight,
however, he worked his way along close to the ground
to the outside of the breastwork, crept along in front
of it, and around through the trees so stealthily, that
he approached within seven or eight feet of the owner
of the head, without being perceived. The latter was
lying fiat on his face, still absorbed in watching those
around the fire.
Stepping lightly from behind the tree which he had
last reached, Frank, with about a foot of the cord
stretched tightly between his hands, the ends coiled
around his wrists and fore-arms, steadied himself,
braced his feet firmly, and then, with a spring as fierce
and as noiseless as that of a panther, leaped right on
his victim, alighting on all fours with a knee on each
side of the unlucky Tory's loins, and the tight cord
across the nape of his neck, pinning him down firmly,
with his nose flattened against the root over which he
had been peeping.
There was not much chance for outcry at best; but
Frank put an end to all attempt at it by stooping over
his man, still holding the cord firmly down, and hissing in his ear," Look'e here! if you make a whisper, if you breathe
a loud breath, I'll hang you without a gallows! Raise




.7_~
/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~' — i
6'~~~~~~~~
FRN  "CPiAIG   LC   NDN                                ae12








TIE QUAKER PARTISANS.            123
your head a little. What, you won't I By the hokey!
if you make me tell you again, I'll shave it off and
pitch it down the bank for your men to play foot-ball
with. Think I don't know you, Black Rawdon?"
The start the prisoner gave at this question brought
the back of his neck into sharp contact with the point
of the knife Frank had drawn, and showed him that
his captor was in stern and unmistakable earnest.
Rawdon-for it was the dreaded leader himselfraised his head from the root, and in an instant Frank
had encircled his neck with two or three folds of the
cord, just tight enough to keep him reminded of the
danger of loud talking, and then, bidding him get up,
secured his arms with the remainder of the cord as he
did so, and led him, grinding his teeth in impotent
rage, to where Clayton sat by the fire in that everlasting Quaker calmness of his.
" I've got him, captain," said Frank. "Do you know
who he is?"
"No; does thee?"
"I reckon," said Frank, laconically; "Black Rawdon."
"Black Rawdon I" exclaimed those who were nearest, pressing around the two men in great curiosity;
for the prisoner's name was known and dreaded
throughout the whole country-side. "Frank's caught
Black Rawdon," was buzzed through the whole party,
and a half-circle of eager faces was formed around the
prisoner and Clayton, who were regarding each other
in silence. At last Clayton spoke:" Thy fate has overtaken thee at last, friend Rawdon. I have been on the lookout for thee for some




124        THE QUA KER PARTISANS.
time, and thee has put thy neck in my hands with a
halter already twisted around it."
"How have I put my neck in your hands?" growled
Rawdon.
"By playing the spy," was the answer, in the same
grave, impassive tone which always marked Clayton's
conversation; "by playing the spy; thee has been
taken in the act; and should I have thee thrown headlong from this rock, thee may be very confident that no
account will be required at my hands of the manner of
thy death."
Rawdon looked at him with an ugly scowl on his
swarthy face, mingled with a puzzled expression of
countenance at the plain Quaker language in which he
was addressed, and growled, again," Who the devil are you, that talk of taking a British
officer's life?"
"At present," said Clayton, quietly, "I am thy
master; and it will depend a good deal upon thy own
behavior whether thee finds me a hard one or not.
Will thee promise me to sit still and give no trouble if
I have thee loosed?"
Rawdon nodded.
" Loose him, Frank," said Clayton, and then added,
in a lower voice, "As thee has been thrown into my
hands a prisoner, let me advise thee to keep as near to
me or Frank-the man that took thee-or Lieutenant
Barton, here, as possible. There are men in the troop
who have sworn to skin thee alive if thee should ever
fall into their hands.  Thee will see the prudence,
therefore, of always keeping us in sight."
Rawdon, who had been glancing uneasily around
during these remarks, and had seen more than one




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             125
pair of eyes watching him with savage eagerness,
again nodded sullenly.
Clayton had seen it too, and added, "Thee sees:
any attempt at escape, by force or stratagem, and I
turn thee over to those who will show thee as much
mercy as hungry wolves."
Rawdon seated himself on the ground near Clayton,
with his elbows resting on his knees, and his chin
buried between his clinched hands, the personification
of despair. And well he might; for, at the hands of
at least five of those on the rock, he had earned his
death three or four times over. I have neither time
nor space nor inclination for any detailed account of
this man. Suffice it to say, two of the five I have
mentioned were in his debt, one for a father, and the
other for a brother, murdered on their own door-steps,
and of the other three, two for sisters carried off by
him, and the other for a bride torn away on her wedding-night, and-well, there is no use in details; there
is but one fate for women in the hands of such men as
Black Rawdon and his g(ang.
Matters remained thus till midnight, when a slight
tapping as of a hammer on stone was heard from the
water's edge..
"There they are," said Frank; and, taking two of the
men with him, they proceeded to the edge of the rock.
A tap from the haft of Frank's knife was answered
from below, and he immediately proceeded to make a
line by splicing the cords carried by himself and his
companions: this done, he crept forward cautiously
until his head was over the edge of the precipice, when
he lowered the line. It was caught from below, and
in a moment more was shaken as a signal to raise it.
11*




126        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
The next half-hour was spent in bringing up baskets
containing quantities of bread and other provisions,
cartridges, a huge demijohn of whisky, with bundles
of hay and sacks of oats for the horses, and then the
scow was silently poled across the stream, made fast
to the large tree which stood close to the bank, and its
occupants returned home..
The garrison, if it -may be called so, was now provisioned for a week at least.
" Where are thy men?" said Clayton, turning suddenly to his prisoner.
The latter remained in sullen silence.
"Where are thy men?" asked Clayton, again, after
giving him ample time to answer.
Still silent.
"Frank," said Clayton, "call up four or five of the
men, and hang him up to that limb above the breastwork."
" All right, captain," said Frank; "I know five of'em'ud want no better fun."
Rawdon looked rather aghast at this exceedingly
prompt way of doing things, and by the time Frank
was on his way back with the men, had come to the
sensible conclusion that he would not sacrifice his life
for the sake of men who would be far enough from doing
anything of the kind for him.
"They are out yonder, among the trees, not fifty
yards from your breastwork."
"When will they attack?"
"At three o'clock."
" Without thee to head them?"
"They have orders to wait for me till then; if I
don't come, then to attack without me, under my first
lieutenant. "




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             127
"Hlow many are there?"
Rawdon hesitated.
Clayton repeated his question, calmly, with a glance
first at the men who were standing around him in grim
silence, and then at the tree.
Rawdon then stated his force to be about two hundred; but admitted, in answer to Clayton's questioning, that there were less than a hundred who could be
relied upon after the first or second volley. He was
evidently pretty well satisfied that if the enemy didn't
run by that time, they would.
This information was given sullenly and reluctantly enough, and not without more than one allusion
to the alternative suggested at the beginning of the
conference.
"Three o'clock," said Clayton; "it's now one: we'll
anticipate them. Levi," he added, addressing Barton,
" put him under strict guard in the rear."
This being done, Barton was at his commander's
side again, awaiting orders.
The latter, who had been in the mean time consulting with Frank, told him to give the signal to Bettle's
party.
At once, the tu-hu hu-u-u-u of a screech-owl quavered
dolorously from the rock, and was answered immediately from the woods to the eastward.
An anxious ten minutes of suspense followed; then
the same boding cry arose directly on the line of the
ridge, and nearer than before.
The party on the rock were by this time all at the
breastwork, with carbines, knives, and pistols ready.
Frank gave another signal, which was answered
from the same direction as the last, but nearer still.




128        TIIE QUAKER PARTISA.NS.
At the same moment his ear, which had been all alive,
caught the click of a gunlock just over the bank to the
left. He nodded to Clayton, who ordered the prisoner
again to be brought before him.
"Thee will give the signal for thy men to attack;
and thee will please to understand that if thee gives a
false one, or if thee has told me one atom of anything
but truth —" and he pointed to the tree.
"Oh, yes, I'll give the signal," said Rawdon, who
had been looking stealthily around him while Clayton
was speaking; he snatched a pistol from the belt of
one of the men near him as he spoke, cocked and fired
it in an instant, almost in Clayton's face, and then,
hurling it at him, went, with a furious bound and
scramble, right over the breastwork!
The ball, fired hurriedly, missed Clayton; but his
face was burnt and blackened by the powder, and he
was staggered for a moment. As Rawdon disappeared in front of the breastwork, a shower of balls
whistled over his head, all fired, in the surprise, one
instant too late.
"After him I" shouted Clayton, as he recovered from
the shock, springing forward in time to see Rawdon,
about thirty yards off, running down the slope of the
ridge, like a deer.
There was a momentary glimpse of this figure bounding along-of a cloud of dusky forms springing into the
light to meet him-then the whip-like crack of a single
rifle from the left, behind the bank, followed by the
reports of seven or eight others in rapid succession; a
convulsive spring upward of the solitary figure, which
then fell forward upon its face-and a number of figures
armed with clubbed rifles leaping up the bank and hurl



THIE QUAKER PARTISANS.           129
ing themselves with wild whoops pell-mell among those
who had advanced to meet Rawdon. There was no
restraining his own men now, even had Clayton wished
to: they poured tumultuously over the barricade, and
in a moment were all engaged in the hurly-burly of a
hand-to-hand fight, where no man could see his adversary ten feet off.
The Tories, dispirited by the loss of their leader, and
taken by surprise by the sudden rush of the Mac Allans
(for the rifle-shots had come from long Johnny's tribe),
were falling back to cover, followed hotly by the latter
and by Clayton's men, who were by this time pressing
them hard, in spite of their superior numbers. At this
moment shots were heard in the rear, and then Bettle's
voice, in stern, rapid orders, as the slender force under
his command pressed forward silently up the ridge.
This new attack upon the rear of the Tories, which
was backing down the slope in tolerably good order
under the irresistible pressure of the front ranks, which
had given way under the sudden furious rush of the
whole body of the Rangers upon them, checked it, and
drove it forward again upon the front.
Bettle pursued his advantage, throwing himself with
his handful of men, like wild-cats, upon the confused
crowd which was now jammed together upon the narrow strip of fighting ground which the rock afforded;
Clayton, from above, did the same thing; while the
Mac Allans, on the flank, slashed away promiscuously
with their tomahawks and clubbed rifles.
The Tories, however, though hemmed in on all sides,
recovering a little from their surprise, now began to
make their numbers tell. Forming three fronts, so as
to face all their assailants at once, they were now stub



130        THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
bornly holding their ground and keeping them at bay.
Fortunately for the reinforcement, the darkness prevented the Tories from seeing how scanty it was, while
the fury of its attack gave them the impression of a
much larger number than it consisted of.
Matters were now becoming serious for the Rangers,
when Frank, after a hasty whisper to Clayton, who
nodded assent, disappeared, in company with Parker,
in the direction of the horses. A moment afterward
there was a stir among the latter as they scrambled up
to the top of the ridge; then a voice shouting,"Stand clear, there! Away, now 1"
The Rangers knew what was coming, and separated
instantly; while down the slope, in solid column, swept
the riderless horses, like an avalanche, headlong upon
the surging mass of the enemy, kicking, striking, and
biting at everything in their way, and scattering the
compact mass of men as if a mine had exploded beneath them; while, as soon as the storm of thundering
hoofs had passed between them, the two divisions of
the Rangers closed upon their track, and threw themselves upon the disordered crowd more furiously than
ever.
Flesh and blood could not stand this; all command
was lost, all discipline at an end, and the panic-stricken
Tories, hemmed in in front and rear, and utterly bewildered by this incomprehensible attack of wild beasts,
turned sharp off to the left and dashed headlong down
the south slope; with what result in the dark, I leave
any one to judge who has tried to work his way down
it by daylight, with his head cool and plenty of time to
look where he was stepping.
A loud whistle from Clayton recalled his men from




THIE QUAKER PARTISANS.           131
the pursuit they were recklessly making at the immi.
nent risk of their necks.
Some of Bettle's men had caught the foremost of the
horses as they reached them; the rest had stopped at
the word of command, and were now quietly returning.
This "fighting on their own hook" was one of the outof-the-way things in Clayton's system of tactics, which
had now stood him in good stead.
As they moved back toward the breastwork, Clayton
stumbled, in the darkness, over something soft that lay
on the ground. A brand was brought from the fire
that was still burning, and by its flickering light they
turned over the body of a man who was lying face
downwards, and saw the coarse black hair and swarthy
features of Rawdon, who lay there with his black eyes
wide open, glaring upward at the cloudy sky.
"He was a bold, bad man," said Clayton, turning
away, "and has gone to his account with a. heavy load
of sins to answer for."
"d He was near going in good company," said Barton, to whom he spoke, dryly. "it isn't often a man
gets the smoke of a pistol in his face, without getting
its ball too."




CHAPTER X.
I'M tired of all this fighting. Here for six successive chapters we have never had our nostrils free
from the smell of gunpowder. But what could I do?
I have undertaken to chronicle the doings of as uneasy
and reckless a set of men as ever turned a quiet neighborhood upside down; and I must tell what they did,
when I had a great deal rather tell what they ought to
have done.
When morning came, Clayton, having previously
made up his mind what to do, called a council of his
officers.
This was a "way he had;" it saved a vast deal of
trouble in balancing between conflicting opinions and
weighing diverse propositions. His practice was to
hear all that was to be said upon the subject, and then
to announce his decision.
In the present instance, the majority were decidedly
in favor of retreating immediately toward Philadelphia,
before the Tories could assemble in force again.
Bettle, anxious about the safety of Jenny Sanford
and her parents, urged this course strongly.
Barton, however, argued that, being deprived of
their leader, it was not likely that they would come to
a head again in the neighborhood, particularly as they
were necessarily ignorant of the strength, or rather the
weakness, of the reinforcements which had come up so
(132)




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             133
opportunely, and, it was most probable, had greatly
overrated them: his plan, therefore, was to remain in
the strong position they held for a few days, until the
men and horses were rested and refreshed.
This happened to be precisely the conclusion to
which Clayton had arrived; and he therefore broke up
the council l1y announcing this determination.
This settled, his first movement was to order a detachment to Thomas Sanford's house, to see if the
spare horses had been driven off; for, it will be recollected, they had been compelled to leave them in the
hurry of the retreat on the previous morning.
They found everything as they had left it, even to
the horses of the Tories they had routed on the evening of the 11th. Leaving these, and taking their own
horses, they returned to the Rock, where, after feeding
them, they addressed themselves to making a breakfast
of the provisions which had been sent from the mill.
When the meal was finished, all hands were set to
work throwing up a breastwork of earth and stones,
about fifty yards farther back, across the ridge, in
order to allow more room. A number of saplings
were also cut down with axes which had been brought
from the house, cut into lengths, sharpened, and planted
firmly along the top of the breastwork, forming a very
complete chevaux-de-frise.
The post thus fortified, the men spent the balance of
the day in absolute rest, no work of any kind being
done but the necessary grooming of the horses, preparing the meals, and standing guard; the last Clayton never omitted, anywhere or under any circumstances, by day or by night.
With these exceptions, however, the men did as
12




134        THE QUAKER PA4RTISANS.
best pleased them; and that which best pleased the
most of them was to go to sleep in the shadows of
the rocks and trees, regardless of considerable firing,
which appeared to come from the direction of the
" Turk."
So the day passed. The demijohn was emptied,
and a fearful inroad was made upon the provisions;
for, having nothing else to do, the men were nibbling
nearly all the time they were awake.
Toward evening, or rather as it began to grow dark,
old Mac Allan came to take his leave, saying he "reckoned he must sort o' think o' travelin' home and seein'
how the women-folks was a-gettin' on, an' what all
that firin' had been about."
"But," said Clayton, "thee don't mean to go tonight, does thee? Better wait till morning. There
may be some of the Tories prowling about in the
neighborhood yet."
"' Well, s'posin' there is," said the old man; "I reckon
I can see'em as fur as they can see me, any how."
"Perhaps so," said Clayton; "but that won't do
much good if a dozen or twenty of them should see
thee at once."
" Sakes alive, capt'n," said the old man, "I'd be a
mighty poor shoat if I couldn't dodge a dozen Tories
in the dark. No fear o' me, at all."
"I suppose, however," continued Clayton, "that
thy sons will return with thee, and will make a guard
strong enough to protect thee against any party thee's
likely to meet."
" I s'pose they won't do any such thing, if you'll let'em stay," said Mac Allan, very promptly; "I've jest
been talkin' to'em, an' they're all high up for a turn




TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.           135
with the troop. I reckon the old woman an' me, with
the gals, can take keer o' the cabin."
"I shall certainly be very glad to have ten such men
in the troop as thy sons," said Clayton; "but, in the
present state of affairs, I think it would hardly be
right to leave thee with so little defense."
" Hut tut I! don't trouble yourself about that, capt'n,"
said the old man: " if we're once inside, with the door
barred, there's nothin''ll git through short of a cannon-ball. No, no  the boys is wanted more where
they are than at home; so good-night."
And, without waiting for an answer, he strode down
the ridge, with his rifle on his shoulder, and in a few
moments was lost to sight in the woods.
The men had built two or three fires, which, with
their fitful glare upon the trees and rocks around, gave
a wild, weird look to the scene, that would have delighted old Salvator Rosa, could he have seen it.
They were gathered around them in groups; and
Clayton, rising from his seat, made his way to that
which contained the ten sons of long Johnny Mac
Allan.
Sitting down upon the grass among them; he said
to the nearest," Thy father tells me you all wish to remain with
the troop. You can all ride, of course?"
"Oh, yes," said the other: "we can all ride well
enough a-straddle on a horse's back; but we can't
ride on his flank, and under his belly, and out on his
tail, or between his ears, like these chaps here. We
hain't never larnt to do them things.  I reckon we
can do the best kind o' fightin' afoot. But if you want
fellows that can put a man's eye out as fur as they




136        THIE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
can see it, or hit a squir'l on the jump with a single
ball, we're the ones to do it."
"You know the country well?"
"Every tree an' fence an' path, every hill an' hollow
an' spring an' run, for five miles round."
"That will do; I want just such men as you, for
outlyers. You can follow a trail?"
"Like fox-hounds; anything like Injin-fightin' we're
up to."
"Very good. Now, as you are the freshest of the
party, I want you to scatter to-night and try to strike
the trail of the Tories we fought last night; bring me
word of where they are and what they are doing; also,
take your father's house in your round, and see how
they are getting along there. This is Seventh day;
at this time on Third day evening I shall expect to
see you back; earlier, if you have anything important
to tell."
"Come, boys," said the one to whom Clayton had
been talking, addressing his brothers, "come along;
we're got some trail-work to do."
The other nine young giants-the youngest was a
lad of not more than perhaps sixteen, but nearly as
big as his brothers-arose from their seats around the
fire, and, giving themselves a hearty shake, "to settle
their supper," as one of them remarked in an explanatory way, and filing out one by one through a narrow
opening which had been left on one side of the breastwork, descended the slope in the direction their father
had taken, and disappeared in the darkness.
Those on the rock, in the mean time, were occupying
themselves according to their respective humors and
tastes. Some were cleaning their arms, some lying




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.           137
on the ground asleep, some sitting around a boulder,
watching two of their number who were engaged in a
quiet game of cards by the light of the fire; for though
Clayton and his officers, with their Quaker principles,
which, with the exception of fighting, they firmly adhered to, disapproved of such amusements, they had
too much sense to attempt enforcing them on their wild
followers, beyond a strict and stern prohibition of gambling. Any attempt at this was punished summarily
and pitilessly; so much so, that he had never had occasion to administer it but once.
The game to-night had been going on for an hour
or so, when one of the players threw down his cards
with a look of disgust, exclaiming,"Therel I'm tired of this; you've got all the luck
to-night, Harry, and I won't play any more. S'pose
you sing us that song you made up t'other day, when
we were down at Turkey Point."
"How will the captain take it?" inquired Harry, a
young fellow of about twenty-two or three, apparently; rather more refined in his appearance than
most of those around him, and the same who had accompanied young Woodward to give the signal of
the approach of Bettle; "how will the captain take
it? May-be he won't fancy such vanities."
"Oh, bother!" said the other; "if he's not too
much of a Quaker to split a red-coat's head open, as I
saw him do with a dragoon at Brandywine, I reckon
he ain't too much of one to stand a good song."
" The song, Harry! the song!" echoed those around
who had been watching the game; "let's have the
song. "
"Here goes, then," said Harry; "only you mustn't
12*




138           THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
laugh at it, if it don't turn out as good as Jem seems
to think it."
So saying, he broke forth, in a clear, ringing tenor
voice:" Hark! from a roused nation breaking,
Like the roar of a hurricane awaking,
The cry all the broad land shaking,
Columbia shall be free!
Up! you that lie there dreaming,
The first rays of morn are streaming,
Back from our foes' arms gleaming,
The foes of Liberty!
Arouse!
For the cry all the land is shaking,
Columbia shall be free!
"March on them, shoulder to shoulder;
The Britons in slavery would hold her,
But never chain shall enfold her,
Her sons shall make her free!
No Lion-flag long shall hover
The beautiful green land over,
But toil-harden'd freemen, who love her,
Her masters soon shall be.
Arouse!
For the cry all the land is shaking,
Columbia shall be free!
"Loudly the bugles are pealing,
And morn's faint light, o'er us stealing,
The stars on our flag is revealing,
The stars of Liberty!
Strike while that flag floats Q'er us,
Strike till the foe flies before us,
Shout till the sky rings in chorus,
Our country shall be free!
Hurrah!
Shout till the sky rings in chorus,
Our country shall be free!"




THIE QUAKER PARTISANS.            139
The song was sung to a wild, stirring air, to which,
perhaps, more than to any merit in the words themselves, was owing the enthusiastic applause with
which it was greeted.
"Dandy Harry sings like a lark; don't he, Frank?"
said one of those who were seated by another fire a
few feet off.
"H-m-m-pI" grunted Frank; "never heard a lark
sing such booktionary words as them.  Look'e here!
what's the use o' squawkin' up here like a crow
on top of a hick'ry-tree, to tell everybody where we
are?"
"Oh, you be durned, you cussed old growler!
what hurt could his singin' do, that our fires hain't
done long ago? I don't b'lieve you keer about hearin'
any music but an owl's or an Injin whoop. Harry's
got a voice like a meadow-lark, or a nightingale."
"Well, may-be he has," said Frank, stretching his
arms above his head and yawning fearfully, "may-be
he has; I never heered a night-what-ye-call-'em; I've
heered a night-hawk many a time, an' it ain't like
that. "
To tell the truth, Frank was woefully deficient in
what is called musical "ear," and had in a high degree of perfection that so-called "practical" turn of
mind that could see little use or beauty in anything
that couldn't be made to pay in some fashion or
other.
Harry Darlington, who had got his nickname of
"Dandy" from a little more fastidiousness about his
dress and equipments than was altogether fashionable
in the troop, and from a certain indefinable picturesqueness in his dress and manner which were natural




140        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
to him, and betrayed a poetic and artistic character of
mind, which would have been of more use to him in
some other situation than the present, was, nevertheless, entirely wanting in the most distinguishing characteristics of the animal whose name he bore: he had
not a particle of its affectation, he had none of its
dawdling indolence and indifference, but was as quick
as a steel-trap, always ready for action, and was one
of the bravest, and, where recklessness was of any
use, one of the most reckless, fighters in the troop.
In person, though tall, he was slender almost to delicacy, with small hands and feet; his hair was light
and wavy, and his skin, in spite of the exposed life he
was leading, was almost as fair, and his blue eyes,
when in repose, as mild, as a girl's. He was the only
one of the whole troop whose appearance could be
called effeminate; and yet he was one that none who
knew him cared to anger; for within that slender frame
were muscles like catgut, and beneath that mild, gentle
exterior were hidden the fire and resistless energy of
a steam-engine.
He was good-humored, however, and merely laughed
at Frank's grumbling depreciation of his musical'powers, which he had overheard.
" Well," said he, "I'm about sleepy enough to turn
in. Pull the curtains, will you, Jemmy, and tuck in
the sheets," he added, as he threw himself down upon
the dew-laden grass, with his blanket rolled up for a
pillow.  "Oh, dear! I wonder what my fidgety old
aunty would say if she could see me? The last thing
she said to me was,'Now, Harry, whatever thee does,
be sure and always have plenty of bedclothes, and,
mind, don't let the night-air blow on thee.' I'm afraid




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            141
this mattress is a little damp. Draw the curtains,
Jemmy, and tuck me in."
The rest of the men soon followed Harry's example,
and in a few minutes more all were asleep, in a silence
which was broken only by the trumpeting of one or two
inveterate snorers, the measured tramp of the sentinels,
and the occasional restless movements of some of the
horses.
Just before dawn, Bettle was startled from his sleep
by a voice crying, "William I William! save me." The
voice was Jenny Sanford's I He heard it and recognized it as plainly and distinctly as he had ever heard
it when talking to her face to face, though now it was
full of the sharpness of agonized fear.
Springing to his feet with a bound, he listened with
painful intensity for a repetition of the cry. But he
heard it no more; and all around was still, except the
slight sounds mentioned before. Gradually, as he
looked around him, recovering his faculties, which, except the single one of listening, had been for the moment set utterly adrift and wool-gathering by his
startling awakening, Bettle stood with his heart beating violently from the sudden reaction of his excitement.
"I wonder if that was a dream," he muttered to himself; "it was fearfully like reality; I could have sworn
that I heard her call me. Sam Diller," he added, stepping over to the sentry who was nearest him, "has
anything been stirring?"
"Nothin' at all, sir; hardly a leaf turned, it's been
so still."
"You haven't heard anything, then?"
"No, sir; leastways, nothin' but Jemmy Wood'r't




142        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
an' Sanford's Mike, over there, tryin' which can snore
the loudest. Did you hear anything, sir?"
"No, I suppose not; it must have been a dream. I
thought I heard a voice in the woods below."
"Them dreams is queer things," said the sentry,
pacing up and down his short beat, with Bettle, who
was too thoroughly excited to sleep again, pacing beside him, " queer things they are, an' no mistake. I've
had'em of all kinds; knocks at my door and my name
called, and never a mortal hand or voice to give knock
or call; I've been chased by Injins, an' could run like
a rabbit till I come to one big buttonball-tree-always
the same one-an' then it appeared like I couldn't lift
my feet off the ground, an' jist as they was a-goin' to
skelp me I'd git awake; an' offen an' offen I've found
myself at a huskin' or quiltin' frolic or an' apple-parin'
bee, in a room full o' gals, with nothin' on but my shirt,
savin' your presence, an' my breeches a mile off at hum,
an' sich a time as I -Hark I"
Sure enough I High and clear, piercing the calm
morning air, this time, with unmistakable and terrible
distinctness, rang a woman's voice from the woods at
the foot of the ridge, shrieking for "Help   Help I
Help!"
"By the Lord Harry I" exclaimed Diller, throwing
down his carbine and springing like a cat to the top of
the breastwork, "that's old Sanford's daughter! I.know the voice."
Bettle was beside him in an instant, and again the
cry came up.
"Stand fast here, Sam, while I rouse some of the
men," said Bettle, hurriedly; and, springing down
again, he darted to where Frank had been lying, but




THE QUAKER PAR TISANS.           143
found him already on his feet, awakened by the voice.
Frank's faculties were always on the alert, and, no
matter how sudden or startling might be his arousing,
he always knew exactly where he was and what he was
doing. He had already roused the men nearest him,
and was just saying to Clayton, who was also on his
feet, "By the hokey, capt'n, that was Jenny Sanford,
as sure as death!" when Bettle rushed to the group,
exclaiming, "Follow, quick! All the boys you can
gather, Frank!" and, turning about, sprang toward the
opening in the breastwork, with Frank and some halfdozen of the men close behind him, and darted at full
run down the ridge in the direction whence the alarm
had come. The bustle had awakened the rest of the
men, who, comprehending that there had been an alarm
of some kind, but ignorant of what it was, were hurriedly attempting to get their horses saddled, when the
calm voice of Clayton, whose coolness all the excitement had not disturbed, was heard.
"Let the horses be; there's no time to get them
ready.  John," turning to the elder Sanford, " we
heard thy sister's voice in the woods, calling for help.
Levi, take thy division; Wheeler, thine, and follow;
the rest stand fast."
John Sanford ground something very much like an
oath between his teeth, Quaker though he was, as
Clayton spoke to him, and was out through the opening with Barton and his division before the whole
order had passed Clayton's lips. Harry the minstrel
and Mahlon Sanford had gone before, without waiting
for any orders, clearing the breastwork, stakes and all,
side by side, at a flying leap, like two panthers.
"Sentries, to your posts I" exclaimed Clayton, sharply,




144       TIlE QUAKER PAR TISANS.
observing that they had forsaken them to crowd forward to the breastwork. " Who ordered you to leave
them? Diller, stay up where thee is, and keep eyes
and ears open. Some of you go now and saddle the
horses and have them ready."
These orders having been promptly obeyed, Clayton
sat calmly down upon a stone to await the result.




CHAPTER XI.
WHEN the pursuers reached the bottom of the slope,
there was no appearance of those they were pursuing,
and, to ordinary eyes, no trace of their passage. Here
Frank's early training in running by scent, as it were,
came into play. The dawn had broken, and, as the
gray light stole over the sky, the group stood around
Frank, who was crouched on one knee, carefully examining the ground in the still imperfect light.
"I've got it, by the hokey!" said he, raising his
bead and looking a little in advance. "Stand away,
you in front there, till I see how it leads out."
The group separated, and Frank, rising to his feet,
ran his eye for a moment along the ground, and exclaimed,"Yes, there it goes, as plain as a wagon-road;" and
then, taking the lead of the party, fell at once into a
long, loping trot, dodging in and out among trees,
around clumps of bushes, his eyes mostly fixed upon
the ground a short distance in advance, but losing no
unusual appearance among the bushes which grew
thickly along the course they were pursuing, never
halting or hesitating for a moment, except, occasionally, at a remark from some one, louder than he thought
prudent, when he would turn half around, put his
finger on his lip, shake his fist at the offender, and then
resume his trot, with a speed which kept them busy to
avoid falling behind.
13           (145)




146        TIlE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
"How many of them are there, Frank?" said Bettle,
who was pressing on beside him.
"Ten bosses; one of'em's lame."
"How do you know the number?" said Bettle.
"Tracks; plenty o' sign," said Frank, laconically;
for he never wasted words or vouchsafed minute information when on a trail.
"Any footmen?"
Frank shook his head impatiently, and the party
moved on in silence for half an hour more, when he
suddenly stooped, picked up something which lay on
the ground, and stopped short with his finger on his
lip.
" What is it?" inquired Barton, who happened now
to be nearest him.
Frank handed him a woman's slipper, simply
saying,"Jenny's.'St; not a hundred yards off!"
"How do you know that?" exclaimed Bettle, who
had seized the slipper unceremoniously.
"Warm," said Frank; "put your hand inside; not
been off two minutes. She's dropped it-o' purpose."
Bettle thrust his hand into the slipper, and found
that the keen guide was right, for the warmth of the
foot from which it had dropped or been plucked still
lingered about it.
"Well, push onil, then," said Bettle, impatiently;
"push on, and don't give them time to get out of
reach. "
"Easy, leftenant, easy," said Frank, quietly; "if
you want to git the gal agin alive, they mustn't see
or hear us till we strike."
" What do you mean?" inquired Bettle, anxiously.




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             147
" Why, look'e here! if it's any o' Rawdon's gang,an' I'm afeard it is, —they're jest the fellows to cut her
throat or shoot her, sooner'an let us git her, or be
bothered with her in a race, if we go at'em bull-headed
and let'em see us in time."
Bettle bit his lip till the blood came, for he was in a
fever of excitement; but he saw the wisdom of Frank's
advice, and acquiesced at once. He explained it rapidly
to Barton, and the whole party stood silent, awaiting
the development of Frank's plan.
The latter continued:"There's a farm-house about half a mile furder on,
an old Tory's, where I reckon they'll halt an' git breakfast, if they don't hear us after'em; that'11 be the time
to light on'em. I'll go on now, an' the rest o' you keep
about fifty yards behind, but don't git out o' sight;
when I want you, I'll beckon."
So saying, Frank resumed his march, but much
more slowly and cautiously than before, the others following at the same pace at about the distance he had
named.
Bettle, who had retained possession of the shoe,
which he would have considered it sacrilege to throw
away, was a little embarrassed to know what to do with
it, but finally thrust it into his belt for temporary safekeeping.
As yet none of the party had caught a glimpse of
those they were pursuing, but simply followed on in a
blind reliance on Frank's judgment. In the course of
ten or fifteen minutes after their last start, however,
they saw him stop aid beckon to them.
When they reached the spot where he was standing,
they found themselves near the edge of the wood, with




148        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
a meadow in front of them, beyond which, at about a
hundred yards' distance, stood the farm-house of which
Frank had spoken. In the yard stood ten horses, all
of whose riders, except three, had dismounted; and in
these three Bettle, Frank, and the two brothers at
once recognized Jenny Sanford and her father and
mother.
Some of the men about them appeared to be urging
them to dismount, and one raised his hand and attempted to take Jenny's for the purpose of assisting
her. She shook her head, and withdrew her hand out
of his reach.
Finally the party went into the house, leaving Jenny
and her parents with two men to guard them, having
first taken the precaution of hobbling their horses so
that they could not run.
Our party saw all these manceuvres, and prepared
for work.  Adjoining the meadow and the woods,
stretching past the back of the house, and then sweeping around it on the farther side close to the fences,
was a large cornfield. Into this Frank at once plunged,
and led his party rapidly toward the house.
" If we only had a couple of Johnny Mac Allan's
boys with their long rifles here," muttered Frank,
" we could fix this off beautiful."
" How?" said Barton.
"Pick off the guards while we got into the house;
but our carbines can't be trusted for such nice
work."
"We must secure the guards first," said Barton.
"Or the gal's dead, an' most likely the old folks
too," said Frank: "I know the two scoundrels that's
standin' guard."




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.            149
On the side of the house next the woods was a kind
of out-house, used as a shelter for the pump, and as a
summer kitchen; next to this was the corn-crib, not
exactly adjoining, but with a space of perhaps three
feet between it and the out-house.
When they reached the part of the cornfield immediately behind this, Frank ordered a halt; the command of the expedition had been tacitly allowed to
him, or rather he had assumed it as a matter of course,
as being the only man there who could conduct it; and
his orders were obeyed implicitly.
" Fust an' foremost," said he, "them two guards is
got to be got out o' the way afore we can do anything
else. Some two of us must sneak on'em, as soon as
the rest's ready to surround the house."
"I'll be one of the two," said Bettle.
"And I'll be t'other," said Mahlon Sanford.
"No, no, Melly," said Frank; "'twon't do for you;
you're as spry an' lissom as a young painter, but you
hain't got the gristle yet to handle a grown man, an'
I want these two settled with. the knife or tom-axe.
Leftenant," he added, turning to Bettle, "unless
you're detarmined, you'd better let me take your
place; you see, these men have got to be killed out o'
hand; it won't do to try any half-an'-half doin's; an'
you wouldn't want to cut a fellow's throat or split his
skull right alongside o' her, would you?"
"No, I would not," said Bettle; "but why kill them
at all?"
"'Cause two of us couldn't take'em both at once;
an', if either of'em gits time to shoot or strike, it'll be
right at the gal or the old folks."
13*




150        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
"Why not shoot them from the cornfield on the
other side?"
"Too much risk; might miss; might hit the wrong
person; might only wound'em, an' that'ud spile all.
Better let Dandy Harry an' me manage it," said
Frank, who, if he did not appreciate Harry's music,
did fully appreciate his uncommon strength and activity, as well as his reckless bravery.
Bettle reluctantly acquiesced in this plan, and the
party proceeded to put their design into execution.
Frank and Harry stole cautiously around through
the corn, while the rest divided; some guarding the
back of the house, while the others passed quietly
through the opening between the corn-crib and the
out-house, and remained just out of sight around the
corner of the latter.
Jenny and her parents were seated on their horses,
looking eagerly across the meadow towards the woods
from which they had recently emerged, and the two
guards kept their eyes in the same direction. The
Tories were at breakfast in the best parlor, which was
on the opposite side of the house, opening upon a
space, not more than a rod in width, between it and
the edge of the cornfield where Wheeler and his men
were concealed.
"Tommy," said one of the guards, whining his
words with a sarcastic drawl through his nose, " Tommy, does thee expect anybody to come aout the woods
yonder to help thee aout the hands o' the Philistians,
Tommy?"
The old man made no answer, nor did Jenny, to
whom the other was addressing some ironical pleasantries of the same kind. Neither of them was aware




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            151
of light steps stealing through the grass behind them,
and they continued their brutal taunting; and the one
who was speaking to Jenny, growing bolder, and irritated by her silence, had on his lips a vile and obscene
jest, when a blow from a tomahawk, cleaving through
cap and skull to the eyebrow, spoiled its point by interrupting its utterance at once and forever. At the
same instant the other received a downward stab from
Harry's knife, which struck him at the base of the
neck, just within the collar-bone. Both men fell in
their tracks as if struck by lightning.  Before the
prisoners had recovered from their astonishment, three
rapid strokes of Frank's. knife had cut the hobbles, the
gate was opened, and he exclaimed, "Ride, now, ride
for your lives  Back across the meadow into the
woods, an' wait there."
Prompt, quick-witted, and possessed of the invaluable faculty of obeying an order instantly and without question or explanation, Jenny gave rein to her
horse and flew through the gate in the direction indicated.
Martha was less wise, and began to ask what they
were to do in the woods, when Frank unceremoniously
cut short her queries by seizing her horse by the head,
running him through the gate, and starting him, by a
furious kick in the ribs, at full speed after Jenny, who
was flying across the meadow, with her father following close behind.
The Tories, as I have said, were at breakfast in the
best room, on the opposite side of the house from where
these things occurred. The leader, who was in fact
Rawdon's lieutenant, and a worthy successor of that
estimable individual, while doing ample justice to the




152        TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.
good things that were bountifully supplied, kept his
ears wide open; for, suspecting strongly that Clayton's force was still on the Rock, he was far from feeling a comfortable degree of assurance that Jenny's call
for help as they passed it would not be answered yet.
He was on the point of rising to order the prisoners
to be brought into the house, where they might be
under his own eye, when his quick ear caught the faint
crash of Frank's tomahawk as he struck down the
guard. The next instant he heard his voice, and the
quick patter of hoofs as the horses galloped from the
yard.
"What the d —lI" he exclaimed, springing to his
feet, and sending his chair spinning through the paper
screen that closed the fireplace; " the prisoners are offI
Follow I"
He darted into the next room toward the yard, but
stopped when half-way across it, for in the door stood
Bettle and Barton, right in his path, sword in hand,
and each of the two windows was darkened by the
figures of men with leveled carbines.  Behind the two
officers, in the out-house, he saw other armed men also.
"Drop your sword," said Barton; "your game is
played out; you are prisoners."
The other Tories had gathered into the room by this
time, however, and their leader, recovering from his
first surprise, shouted to them, " Fire, men, fire! and
sweep the windows!" and, drawing a pistol from his
belt, fired at the two who were standing in the doorway.
Bettle had sprung in front of his companion toward
the Tory as the latter spoke, but staggered back a step
or two, at the report of the pistol.
"Are you hit, Bettle?" said Barton, throwing his




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             153
arm out to catch him, as the room filled with smoke
from a dozen carbines fired through the windows.
" Not hurt," said Bettle, recovering his balance, and
touching the shoe at his waist, in the heel of which the
ball was half buried. "At them, boys I" And, springing
forward again, his sword crossed with that of the Tory
leader.
The men poured in through the door and windows,
receiving a hurried random fire from the enemy's pistols, and then the small room was for a few moments
a confused hurly-burly of clinking sword-blows and
cracking pistols, and clouds of smoke, thick with the
oaths and curses of the Tories, for the Rangers fought,
as they always did, with clinched teeth and in silence.
It was getting too hot for the Tories, and they attempted to retreat through the room they had just left,
but found their retreat cut off by the reserve of the
Rangers, who had forced their way into the house
from the back, and now held them covered with their
carbines.
"Don't thee think it's about time to stop?" said
Wheeler, mildly, as he seized the foremost man by the
collar, and held the point of his sword to his throat.
" If thee makes any resistance, I'm afraid I shall have
to constrain thee." And, as he spoke, the Tory felt a
slight pricking pressure upon his throat, just upon the
"Adam's apple," that admonished him strongly of the
folly of further resistance.
"I surrender, on quarters and fair treatment," said
he, sullenly.
"I reckon thee'll just surrender," said Wheeler, in
the same placid tone; "thee and all thy men can do
it, alive or dead, just as you choose; but you'll do it."




154        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
All the combatants were by this time in the breakfast-room, and Wheeler, who still kept his hold on his
prisoner, spying Barton, said,"This friend wants to make terms, Levi; thee's cap
tain here; shall he have them?"
"Yes; such terms as Captain Clayton chooses to
give. Are you the commander of this gang of banditti?"
said Barton, addressing the Tory.
The fellow glared at him savagely for a moment,
and nodded.
"Do you surrender?"
"Yes," said the other, grinding his teeth: "what's
the use of trying to fight with only three men against
twenty?"
"Not much," said Barton: "you might have discovered that before. Order your men to lay down
their arms."
This ended the fight; the victory was won, it remained to see at what cost.
Ah I that cost I that cost I It always comes in at a
victory, like the skeleton in the old Egyptian feasts.
There, in the front room, beneath the window
through which he had sprung, lay Mahlon Sanford,
dead.
Beside him lay a gigantic trooper, with the upper
part of his face crushed out of all semblance to humanity, by a blow from a carbine-butt; and standing there,
with one foot pressing heavily upon the broad chest,
his arms folded, his brows drawn together, and his
lips compressed to a ghastly whiteness with the intense.
agony of his grief, was John Sanford. His carbine,
with its blood-splashed butt, lay where it had fallen
across the trooper's thighs, unnoticed. The body of




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            155
the Tory leader (the one who had surrendered to Barton had assumed command on the death of his superior)
lay in the middle of the room, where Bettle had struck
him down. The men were standing around in mute
sympathy, for Mahlon was a favorite with them all;
but the brother saw nothing but the slight, boyish form
which lay motionless before him. At last Bettle, wishing to rouse him from his stupor, touched his arm and
spoke to him, " John"-but his voice faltered.
The single word broke the spell, however, and John,
turning suddenly, seized Bettle's hand with both his
own, and, wringing it, exclaimed, passionately," Oh, Bettle, Bettle I how shall I tell this to mother?
The youngest, her pet, her darling I How can I go and
tell her he's dead?" And the strong man broke down
utterly, and, burying his face in his hands, shook all
over with the convulsive sobs that burst forth uncontrollably.
Tears were trickling down the bronzed faces of the
wild Rangers who were gathered around, over cheeks
which had not been wet by tears for many a day.
At last Harry went to John, and, passing his arm
across his shoulders, walked into the yard with him,
saying, in a low voice, " Come, John; you'd better not
stay here any longer. Leave Melly to us; we'll do all
that remains to be done for him."
"HIle must be brought with us," said John.
" Of course; we'd better take him to the Rock for
the present, and then we can decide what shall be
done," said Harry, adding,"We must get back as soon as possible, for there's
no telling how many of the scoundrels in the neighborhood have heard the firing, and    Halt, there I"




156        TIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
The sudden exclamation was drawn from Harry by
a glimpse of a shadow flitting across the space between
the corn-crib and the out-house. Darting through the
passage, he leaped into the cornfield, and disappeared
for a moment; there was a sound of scuffling among the
corn, and then Harry reappeared, dragging after him
a stout boy, who was hanging back, whimpering and
protesting that he " wan't goin' to do nothin'; he wan't
on'y jest goin' to the spring-house."
"' That's right in the middle of the meadow here,"
interrupted Harry. " Sonny, when you undertake to
tell a lie to an old bird like me, you ought to tell a
straighter one; this one's as crooked as the route you
were taking to the spring. Now, where are the soldiers
you were going to see?"
The boy remained in sullen silence.
" Oh, very well," said Harry, perceiving that the
other Rangers were all in the yard ready to move, four
of them in the rear, bearing the body of Mahlon, which
lay on a shutter they had lifted from the old-fashioned
strap hinges which sustained it, a pillow under his
head, and a clean white sheet laid carefully over him.
" Now, my son, you're going with us; you're.going to
have the post of honor in front, between me and this
gentleman," pointing to Frank; "and at the first
sound you make above a whisper, the first sign you
make with head or foot or hand, or the first appearance
of an attack on us, sign or no sign, you'll die in your
trades, whoever else escapes."
The boy, though not particularly sharp-witted, was
brilliant enough to understand these practical remarks,
and took his place submissively between Harry and
Frank, and they moved silently and sadly across the




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            157
meadow toward the woods, where they joined the
Sanfords, thence toward the Rock, without further
alarm or disturbance, Jenny and her father riding on
one side of the rude bier, and Martha, with her other
son at her bridle, on the other.
About half a mile from the Rock, the men in advance stopped, and Frank, leaving his charge, on whose
arm Harry instantly fastened a grip like a vice, whispered a moment to Barton, who nodded.
" Is the way clear from here to the Rock?" inquired
Frank, returning to their involuntary guide. "Listen
afore you answer. The rest are goin' on; you're goin'
to stay here with me an' Harry till we're ready to
move. Now, if anything goes wrong, by the hokey I!
you know what you're got to look for."
The boy asseverated strongly that he "be derned
if there was a Tory nearer'n five miles off, as he
know'd on."
Frank nodded to Barton, who moved on with his
party, while he and Harry coolly seated themselves
on a log, with their prisoner between them.
In the course of fifteen or twenty minutes more a
long, shrill whistle came from the direction of the
Rock.
"There's Sam Diller," said Harry: " he has a pipe
like ten thousand plovers."
" They're there, all safe, then," said Frank. "Now
you may go home; and if you see any of the Tories, tell'em we've got fifty men on the Rock ready for'em."
After the boy had gone, Harry said to Frank,"I supposed we stopped here to keep that young
scoundrel from seeing what force we had. What the
deuce made you tell him?"
14




158        TIHE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
" Why, look'e here I" said Frank, "'cause he's jest
about sharp enough to make certain I was a-lyin', or,
if he ain't, so much the better;'cause if he tells any
of the Tories they'll make sure I was, an' be afeard o'
gittin' into a trap."
The two men now went on to the Rock, where they
found, in addition to those who had gone on in advance, long Johnny Mac Allan, his wife, and their
three daughters.
The women were sitting apart with the Sanfords,
beside the body of Mahlon, while Mac Allan was talking earnestly to Clayton.
Martha Sanford gave way to no noisy demonstrations of grief, but sat motionless, her hands crossed in
her lap, her eyes fastened on her boy.
Her husband sat near her, his features clothed with
that rigid, stony, almost fearful calmness which belongs to feelings forcibly and sternly kept down.
Jenny sat between, weeping silently but plentifully,
the only one to whom the relief of tears had come.
" Oh, William, William," said the mother, at last,
as Bettle drew near with John Sanford, "didn't thee
promise me my boy should not go to battle? How
could thee let him?"
"It wasn't William's fault, mother," said her son,
gently; "if be or any of us could have stopped him,
we would; but he and one of the men were out ahead
of all the rest, as soon as we heard Jenny call; and
when we surrounded the house he got into another
division, and William and I both lost sight of him till
it was too late."
" I don't understand it at all, John: I only know my
boy is dead."




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.           159
At this moment, Clayton, having finished his conversation with Mac Allan, approached Martha, and,
taking her hand, said, earnestly,"We all share thy grief, Martha; we all mourn for
him, for he had endeared himself even to the wildest
and roughest of the men; not one of them but would
have saved him at the cost of his own life, if it could
have been; but it was ordered otherwise, and we can
only bow to the will of Him who holds all our lives in
His hand."
"I know we must, Ellis; but, oh, it's hard, it's hard,
to lose him so suddenly, without any warning, and in
such a way! But I will not grieve wickedly for him.
The Lord gave him, and He hath taken him in His
own good time and in His own way. I will not question His providence."
Clayton led her gently away, followed by Jenny,
who clung with both hands to Bettle's arm, sobbing
convulsively, while Mrs. Mac Allan and her daughters
prepared the body for burial, which it was necessary
should take place as soon as possible, it being uncertain at what moment they might be attacked or be
obliged to forsake the Rock; though Clayton intended
to hold it, if possible, until all his scouts had come in.
He had explained the necessity for this apparently
hurried burial to the family; and they made no objection.
In the course of an hour, Mac Allan stepped quietly
up to Clayton and informed him that they were ready.
They stood around the shallow grave beside which
the boy lay, still upon the shutter, with the sheet
wrapped around him, the troopers with heads uncovered and arms reversed, and the stricken family look



160        TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
ing sadly at the last they would see on earth of him
they all loved so well.
He was lowered on the shutter as he lay, his face
covered with a fold of the sheet, some thick branches
were laid carefully above him to prevent the earth
from touching him when the grave should be filled,
and they turned away again, in a silence broken only
by the voice of Mike, which rose and fell in the Irish
" keen" for the dead, with a cadence inexpressibly wild
and mournful.




CHAPTER XII.
ON the previous Friday night, when the Tories had
retreated, beaten from the Rock, they scattered at first,
in a panic at the loss of their leader. Gradually, however, dropping in, sometimes one at a time, sometimes
two or three together, about a hundred of them were
assembled in a wild, secluded spot beside the creek,
which had been previously used as a place of rendezvous after their forays.
They brought no plunder with them this time, however; only chafed tempers, which found vent in a good
deal of crimination and recrimination as to their defeat.
This brought on a hot discussion as to the strength of
the reinforcement which had come up so opportunely.
Some averred that they had counted a hundred, some
fifty, some twenty; some said they were regulars, some
that they were riflemen, some that they were both,
and one fellow, besides, swore a huge oath that he had
seen two six-pounders grinning over the breastwork.
"Yeou be blamed," drawled a sharp, nasal voice
from the foot of a tree a few feet off, where its owner,
who had until now taken no part in the conversation,
sat leaning against the trunk, engaged in whittling a
stick which he had cut from a bush near him for that
especial purpose; "there wan't nao six-paounders, nor
nao other kind o' paounders,'cept them on two legs,
an' the cussed, rampin' hosses'at paounded us daown
the bank."
14*          (161)




162        TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
" Wall, naow, I reckon not," said the other, mimicking him: " you hadn't much chance o' seein' what there
was, the way them long legs o' yourn carried your ugly
mug out o' the way when them big teeth an' thrashin'
hoofs come tearin' in among us."
" Yaas," said the other, coolly, "I beat ye, didn't
I? I heern them little pins o' yourn a' pittipattin' consider'ble quick arter I passed you, but they were too
short to keep up. Naow, I'll tell you what; there
wan't no regulars, but there was riflemen, an' mighty
good shots too; an', what's more, I know who they
were."
" Who were they?" inquired the leader.
"Long Johnny Mac Allan an' his ten double-fisted
sons; an' naow I've got a plan: there ain't nobody
but the women-folks about the old fellow's haouse;
let's go an' burn it to pay him for meddlin' with our
business."
This proposition was agreed to unanimously; and
just before daybreak, under the guidance of the Yankee,
they reached the place.
The inmates of the house were aroused by the furious
barking of the dogs in the yard, and Keziah, peeping
out through one of the loop-holes, saw it full of the
Tories.
" Up, gals, up, an' take to the loop-holes, with the
rifles," said she. "Here's a purty kittle o' fish; if
there's one Tory, there's a hundred in the yard.
Hannah, you take t'other loop-hole in front, here;
Jemima an''Rushy, you take the back ones; an' I
reckon we'll give'em some trouble yit, afore they git
in."
The girls each seized a rifle, four of which, with




THIE QUAKER PARTISANS.           163
powder-horn and bullet-pouch for each, all well filled,
hung upon their several hooks around the lower room,
to which all had descended.
Briefly telling Jenny and her parents to place themselves in the corner of the room, out of the line of fire
from without, the stout-hearted woman thrust the
muzzle of her rifle through the opening at which she
had stationed herself, and coolly awaited the summons.
" Open the door, in the King's name," said a voice
from without.
The only answer was the click of her rifle, as she
cocked it.
"Aha," said the leader, whose quick ear had caught
the sound, "that's the answer, is it? Surround the
house. "
It will be remembered that there was a considerable
body of footmen attached to the party. These immediately divided, about half of them going around to
the rear of the house; while those who were on
horseback dismounted, and, leading their horses a
little back, tied them among the trees, and then returned.
The leader again ordered the door to be opened; but,
no answer being received, they proceeded to force it.
Their plan for doing this was extremely simple: they
procured axes from an out-house, where some had
been carelessly left in the hurried departure of the
men, cut down a stout sapling, and, raising it in
their hands, prepared to make a rush with it at the
door.
Keziah had been watching their manceuvres, and,
as the men poised the sapling in their hands, ex



164        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
claimed to her daughter, who was guarding the front
with her,"Now, Hannah, as soon's they git in a run-with
thrat pole, I'll give the word, an' do you pick off the
foremost on your side."
Hannah nodded.
After "hefting" the sapling once or twice, the
twenty men who held it started for the door at a run.
If they had reached it, the door must have gone down,
strong as it was. But in the midst of their rush
came, almost as one, the sharp crack of two rifles, one
from each side the door, and the two foremost men
fell. The sudden loss of support for the forward end
of the battering-ram, as it might be called, thus unexpectedly throwing the additional weight and leverage
upon those who were next in the rear, caused it to
sway downwards, striking the ground, jerking it out
of their hands by the sudden check, and bringing it
to the earth with a crash, and the whole party
down with it, each man tripping up the one behind
him.
" Pick yourselves up and try it agin, ye villains,"
said Keziah, priming her rifle, which she had reloaded;
" try it agin, if ye want to lose more o' your men; if
you don't, clear out and leave us alone I We've shed
blood enough for one day."
She was answered by a volley from the muskets in
front, the balls from which pattered into the logs
around the loop-hole, and- one, better aimed than the
rest, passed through it, carrying away her cap and
comb, and burying itself in the opposite side, about a
foot above'Rushy's head. Keziah only shook her
gray lock and laughed.




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            165
Hannah's rifle cracked again, but missed; the Tories
being so enveloped in the smoke from the muskets
that it was impossible to see any form distinctly.
The fallen men, excepting the two who had been
shot and were lying beneath the pole, had by this
time regained their feet, and the whole party, in obedience to their leader's command, retreated from the
yard to the trees beyond, among which they sheltered
themselves from the murderous rifles.
Keziah heard, at this moment, a heavy creaking and
rattling of wheels at the back of the house, and, at
the same instant both of her daughters, who were
stationed at that side, called to her, in a low voice,
"Mother, mother, come here, quick!"
"What's the matter?" said she, hurrying over,
leaving her rifle, however, poking its muzzle out
through its loop-hole. "What is it,'Rushy?"
"Why, they've got the big wagon across the fence,
an' they're loadin' it with dry brush. Shall I shoot?"
said'Rushy, eagerly.
"My soulds!" said Keziah, in dismay; "if they
hain't a-goin' to try and burn us up! Keep a sharp lookout, gals, an' pop over every one you kin draw a bead
on; we must never let'em git that wagon up to the
house, or we're gone I Oh, if the old man an' the
boys was only here!"
"There's one, mother, with a big bundle afore him,
right in range," said Jemima. " Shall I shoot? I can't
see his head."
"Fire at his waistband," said the old woman,
sternly. "Don't miss him."
"Miss him I" said the girl, cocking her rifle and
setting the hair trigger.  The report followed her




166        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
words, and the man fell. Another sprang forward to
seize the bundle, but Keziah, snatching the rifle from'Rushy's hands, darted to the other loop-hole, thrust
Jemima away, and called through it, "Drop that, or
you're a dead man."
The fellow looked up.
"Drop it, I say, and go back, or I'll send you after
the dog that brought it."
The old woman's temper was now fairly up, and
she spoke sharply and sternly, without any more
saving clauses about her unwillingness to shed blood.
A momentary pause of irresolution on the part of
the Tory was brought to an end speedily by the crack
of Jemima's rifle, which'Rushy had seized and reloaded,
and the sight of another of his comrades who was advancing with an armful of brushwood, reeling back,
with a ball through his shoulder. Suddenly snatching
up the fallen armful which lay at his feet, he made an
ineffectual attempt to fling it on the wagon, and then,
dropping on the ground, rolled rapidly over and over
till he got behind the latter, his sudden motion just
saving him from the ball which the exasperated Keziah
sent after him.
While this was going on in the rear of the house,
those in front had not been idle. Screened by the
trees, they had wasted an immense deal of powder and
lead in firing with muskets at slits in the wall, which
it would have required rifles, and hands that knew
how to use them, to hit with any certainty at the distance at which they were firing. A constant fire was
also kept up by the muskets in the rear from behind
the wagon, but with no effect, either from front or
rear, beyond pitting with bullet-holes the solid logs of




TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.            167
which the house was built, and gradually filling the air
around with a thick cloud of smoke.
It was a still, sultry morning, the precursor of one
of those relaxing, sweltering September days when
not a breath of air stirs, and everything in nature
seems asleep but the heat and the flies; and even the
latter are too lazy to let go where they begin to bite,
merely sidling off at each brush of the hand, and immediately dropping back to their place and renewing
their stinging attentions.
In consequence of the dead stillness, the smoke, as I
have said, hung thick and low around the house; and
Keziah perceived, with an uneasiness she did not express, that if it became much more dense it would not
be difficult for some of the Tories to approach the
house unperceived. They could only tell where they
were now by the flash of their guns and pistols; for
the leader, perceiving the advantage the smoke was
giving him, quite as promptly as Keziah had done,
ordered his horsemen to keep up a fire with their
pistols, in order to increase it.
There was little fear of the Tories getting into the
house by any means at their command, if they could
be prevented from firing the brush in the wagon and
running it up against the house. Should they succeed
in that, its destruction was inevitable; for, built entirely of wood as it was, and very old, it would burn
like tinder.
It had not been erected by Mac Allan, who had
found it deserted and falling to decay when he took
possession of it. From its strength, and arrangements
for defense, it had apparently been built by some
earlier settler, who had less faith in the pacific disposi



168        TIE Q UAIKER PARTISAN~S.
tion of the Indians around than they deserved; for, in
addition to the solid thickness of the walls, the small
windows, and the loop-holes for firing through, Mac
Allan found in the cellar, the sides of which were
rudely lined with rough slabs, one slab which appeared
to be loose. Trying it, he found it was movable, and,
pushing it aside, discovered a small opening cut in the
earth, wide enough to admit his broad shoulders with
tolerable ease. Following this, he found that it led,
by a series of roughly-cut steps, to the well, descending
to a point not far from the water's edge. Leading off
to the left was a natural opening, formed by a rift in
the stratum of rock which lay beneath the surface of
the ground. Making his way through this, though it
was much encumbered with rubbish, he proceeded by
a very crooked route until he reached a point where it
enlarged into a rugged cave, with a floor which had
evidently been cleared and leveled to some extent by
human hands. It was about eight feet. high in the
highest part, and was large enough to allow some fifteen or twenty people to be seated comfortably.
It had evidently been used, for the sides and roof
were black with smoke and soot, and at one side were
a few stones, piled up so as to form a rude fireplace,
in which was lying an old iron pot. Satisfied that the
fireplace could not have been used without some way
for the smoke to escape, he searched around the walls
more narrowly by the aid of the candle with which
he had provided himself, and discovered a pile of decaying logs and brushwood, which had apparently
been thrown carelessly against the wall to get them
out of the way. Removing these, he found that they
covered another opening beneath a shelving rock, high




TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.           169
enough to allow him to pass through on his hands
and knees.
Following this for about a rod, he emerged beneath
a mass of overhanging bushes, which entirely concealed
the opening from without, upon the side of the hill upon
which the house was built, and about a quarter of a
mile distant from it.
The war had begun at the time Mac Allan took possession of the house, and it struck him very forcibly
that it would do no harm to have such a place of retreat ready in case of emergency, though he certainly
had not much apprehension of ever being compelled
to use it; so he cleared away the rubbish, to the great
improvement of the passage leading to the cave, and
Keziah and her daughters gave two or three days' hard
labor to clearing off the soot and smoke from the walls
of the cave itself, and then whitewashed it all over,
thus transforming a gloomy dungeon into quite a
cheerful-looking cell, considering. It had remained in
this state, undergoing an occasional renovation with
the whitewash-brush, ever since.
The well, from which the passage led, was about a
rod from the house, directly between it and the wagon,
behind which a number of the enemy were lying,
effectually concealed from view by it and the thick
smoke in which it was enveloped.
Keziah's thoughts were now occupied with the means
of procuring water in case the wagon should be fired
and brought up to the house.
There was manifestly no possibility of doing it
above ground, for the well was directly in the line of
fire from the wagon. It must be brought, if at all,
from below.
15




170        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
" Thomas," said Keziah, approaching the Sanfords,
" will you take my rifle and watch at the loop-hole
while me an''Rushy goes down to the well after
water? We must have some, an' that soon."
Thomas Sanford was placed in a cruel strait. On
the one side were his life-long Quaker principles, forbidding him to fight or resist. On the other was the
consciousness that a family of women, on whom his
own had no claim whatever, except that whicli every
human being has upon every other for assistance in
time of need, had been fighting for him and his, and
were now exposed to imminent danger arising solely
from attempting to protect him. The very service he
was now asked to render had grown legitimately out
of the danger to which they were exposed. Besides,
Quaker though he was, he had, all along, an uneasy
feeling that he was allowing Keziah to do work which,
if it must be done at all, belonged properly to him, and
not to a woman.
He looked inquiringly at his wife as these thoughts
struck him.
" I can't advise, Thomas," said she. " Thee must act
as thee feels free to do."
"Surely it don't seem right," said he, "that these
friends-women, too —should bear all the burden of the
danger we have brought on them, and I, the only man
here, refuse to help when asked. It don't seem right.
I won't."
So saying, Thomas took the rifle from the hands of
Keziah, and stationed himself at the loop-hole she had
quitted.
The latter then turned to Jenny, and asked her if she
thought she could take'Rushy's place for a little while.




TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.            171
Jenny shook her head with a melancholy smile.
" I'd be of no use there," said she; "I never fired a
gun in my life, and don't know how either to aim or
load it. But I can do better than that. Do thee take'Rushy's place, and let her and me bring the water.
I've had some practice in that," she added, smiling
again, faintly.
"To be sure," exclaimed Keziah.  "What an old
goose I am, to think nobody can work but me I Now,
down cellar with ye, an' pass up water as fast as ye
can, an' I'll get the tubs ready."
The two girls descended to the well by the passage
before spoken of, and for the next half-hour were busily
engaged in passing up water, until four tubs, all the
house could boast, were filled. Only one of these was
in the lower room, the other three having been taken
up-stairs and filled there, to be ready when the roof
should take fire, there being no doubt that it would be
the first thing to go.
The firing from the outside was kept up moderately,
the smoke still hanging low and thick, while for some
time no shot had been fired from within.  Just as'Rushy came up, however, with the last bucket of water,
an exclamation of surprise was heard from Jemima,
followed instantly by the crack of her rifle, and the exclamation, " Missed him, consarn it all I"
"Missed who, Jemima?" said her mother. "Who
did you shoot at?"
" Yankee Nat, that used to live here," said the girl,
speaking low between her clinched teeth, and busily
reloading her rifle; " if he shows that long nose of his'n
in range agin, I reckon he won't git away with it."
The girl's face, which had more pretensions to good




172        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
looks than that of either of her sisters, was as pale as
death, but not with fear, as was very evident from the
dilating eyes, which were fairly blazing, and the rigid
lips, which were drawn tightly across the clinched
teeth. Indeed, Nat-for it was the fellow who had suggested the plan of attacking the house-owed his life to
the trembling of Jemima's hand, caused by the sudden
overpowering rush of anger which the sight of him had
produced.
"Yankee Nat " said Keziah; "is that sneakin',
treacherous varmint among'em? Keep a sharp lookout for him, gals, and don't let him git away, if you
kin see him. We've got an account to settle with
him."
" What has he done?" inquired Martha, who, as well
as her husband and Jenny, had observed the sudden
emotion of Jemima, and did not understand it. " What's
the matter?"
" Matter enough," said Keziah, bitterly. " He said
things to Jemima when he was here, ay, an' Well, no
matter! if he had been about the place when the old
man an' the boys come home that afternoon, he'd ha'
behaved himself forever afterward."




CHAPTER XIII.
IT had not been necessary for Thomas Sanford to
discharge his rifle at all; and he very willingly returned
it to'Rushy, who took her place at the loop-hole,
eagerly but unsuccessfully looking out for Nat.
The enemy, having now piled a large quantity of
brushwood upon the wagon, succeeded in running it
up to the house under cover of the smoke, and placing
it sideways against the wall. In this position, and
reaching up to the second-story windows, it obstructed
the loop-holes effectually, and of course put an end to
the danger from the rifles on that side.
It was not many minutes before those within heard
the crackling of fire in the wagon, and perceived the
smell of burning wood, which stole, with the pungent
smoke, through the openings.
Leaving the girls to defend the front against attack
on that side, Keziah and Thomas Sanford went upstairs to be ready to fight the fire. They did not have
to wait long; for the dry, light brushwood burned
almost like straw, and in a few moments light-blue jets
of flame came shooting up through the mass, darting
forth and back like the forked tongues of serpents.
Here and there a bunch of dead leaves would kindle,
as one of these sharp tongues shot through it, blaze up
into a yellow flame, and then die out.
Faster and faster came the jets, turning from blue to
15*          (173)




174        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
yellow, and then deepening to red, shooting higher and
higher, curling and swaying back and forth with an
angry crackle and roar, lapping the sides of the house
and the dry eaves greedily. Keziah and her companion had not been idle, but from the first appearance of
the flames had been dashing buckets of water upon
them, assisted by Martha and Jenny, who had been
called up by Thomas.
The occasional crack of a rifle from the room below
showed that the girls were on the alert to prevent the
door from being forced, some demonstrations of which
had been made, at the expense of the lives of two or
three more of the besiegers.
Still the fearless woman above, with her companions,
battled stubbornly with the increasing fire, till the'
flakes from the kindling roof began to fall within, and
the room was so full of smoke that they could hardly
breathe.
They then retreated to the room below, and Keziah,
briefly telling Thomas and his companions to follow,
descended rapidly to the cellar, and, leading the way
to the passage which turned off to the left, directed
them to follow it to the cave, and there wait till she
and her daughters should join them.
There was no time for parley, and they set out at
once.
Keziah hastened back to the room where her daughters were still watching at the loop-holes, and, bidding
them collect what food and clothes they could, not forgetting a bag of Spanish dollars which her husband
kept stored for emergencies, prepared to follow the
Sanfords, leaving the house to its fate.
The whole roof was by this time on fire, and the




'IIE Q UAKER PARTISA4NS.          175
sparks were beginning to fall thickly into the room
through the stairway. The firing from the outside had
ceased, while the besiegers watched the progress of the
flames, and the inmates of the house were about to descend to the cellar, when they heard the heavy tramp
of a column of soldiers, and the sharp, stern orders," Run that wagon from the house I seize the tongue
and away with it to the fence! Quick, you ruffians I
By my life, if it stands there one moment longer, 1'll
have the ringleader tossed into it, to try how he likes
his handiwork! Away with it I"
There was no doubt that the speaker meant to be
obeyed, and half a dozen of the Tories sprang to the
tongue, and ran the wagon, with its burning load, as
far from the house as possible.
"Now, who's in the house?" said the voice, sharply.
"Don't know," was the answer; "'cept one old
woman an' some blasted good rifles that's knocked
over six or eight of us."
"Women I" exclaimed the other, darting around to
the fiont of the house.
As he reached the door, it was opened from within,
and Keziah stood before him, her gray locks hanging
in disorder, as they had fallen when her comb was
shot away, about her smoke-grimed face, and her
three daughters, each with her rifle in her hand,
standing immediately behind her.
"If you are an English officer, and a man, we claim
your protection agin that gang of cowardly wolves,"
said she.
"You shall have it, madam; you shall have it,"
said he. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to afford it earlier;
I'm afraid there's no hope of saving the house."




176        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
"None," said Keziah; "let it burn."
"Are there no men in the house?" inquired the
officer, in surprise, as he looked from the grim figure
of Keziah to her daughters and back again. "Are you
all the force here?"
"Yes," said Keziah, "one old woman an' three
gals, with a rifle' apiece, is what's kep' a hundred
Tories off sin' sun-up, an' would ha' kep''em off till
sun-down, if they hadn't ha' managed to git the old
wagon up to the house an' set it afire."
"Four women holding a log house for hours against
a hundred men! If all your countrymen had your
courage and determination, we should have been
driven from the country long ago," said the officer.
"As for you, you cowardly hounds, that attack women
twenty-five to one," he added, turning to the Tories,
"you have been doing brigands' work, and you shall
have brigands' pay. Lay down your arms."
"D —d if we do," said one, who appeared to have
some command. " Who the d    1 are you, that undertakes to order his Majesty's soldiers to lay down their
arms?"
" Your superior officer, sir," said the young captain,
" and one who means to be obeyed.' Soldiers' I" he
added, with his lip curling; " a gang of lawless ruffians,
rather, that disgrace any cause they fight for. We'll
see what General Howe thinks of such soldiers. Deliver your sword to the sergeant; you and your men
are under arrest."
The whole house was now on fire, burning furiously;
and all present had moved some distance away, to
avoid the heat, which was intense.
The temporary leader of the Tories sullenly offered




THE QUAKER PAR TISANS.            177
his sword to the captain, for he saw that his force was
greatly outnumbered; the latter, however, turned his
back upon him, motioning the sergeant to take it.
"And now, madam," said he, turning to Keziah,
"you have been deprived of a home by these scoundrels: is there any place where you can stay, with
your family, for the present?  We will escort you
safely to any place you wish."
" Thank'e," said she; " but there's a neighbor's house
not far off, where we can stay till such time as my old
man an' the boys can knock up a shanty."
"You have a husband; then?"
"Yes, an' ten boys;" the captain involuntarily
raised his eyebrows slightly, but Keziah went on without noticing it: "if they'd been at home, we'd ha' druv'
off all these scum long ago."
"Where are your sons?" inquired the officer. "In
the American army?"
Keziah hesitated.
" Don't tell me, if you had rather not," said he; "I
only wish, however, to befriend them, should it ever be
in my power."
"Well," said Keziah, "they're not exactly in the
army; they're with Clayton's Rangers now."
" Clayton's Rangers I" said the officer; "I ought to
know them. Isn't the first lieutenant a gentleman
named Barton?"
"I don't know," said Keziah; "I never seen any
of'em till yesterday. I think the officer's name was
Bettle."
"The same: he was another lieutenant.  I don't
want to know where they are," he added, in a low
voice; "but, if you know, I think, in the unsettled




17 8       THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
state of the country, you had better get yourself and
your daughters under the protection of the troop as
soon as possible. Should you see Lieutenant Barton,
tell him that Captain Gardner desired to be remembered
to him and the other officers."
The soldiers now prepared for departure with their
prisoners, Keziah declining any escort, saying "they
could git along without any trouble, if he would only
drive them wolves away."
Captain Gardner, after repeating his offer of an escort, which Keziah again declined, bade them good-by
kindly, and his men, with the disarmed Tories in front
of them, filed away through the woods, and were soon
out of sight.
As soon as the coast was clear, Keziah and her
daughters hurried to where the cave opened on the
hill-side.
"Somebody's been through these bushes," said
Hannah, pointing to some twigs which were broken
off, and at the leaves which were turned in some disorder and stripped off.
" I hope they hain't been so foolish as to come out
by themselves," said Keziah.
Stooping down to the mouth of the cave, she called;
but no answer was returned.
A sudden exclamation from Jemima brought Keziah
away from the cave to the foot of the hill.
"See here, mother," said the girl; "here's horsetracks. What's that mean?'
"Horse-tracksl" said Keziah; "then there's been
treachery somewhere, and they're carried off, sure.
Nobody'd be likely to bring horses here for anything
else."




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.            179
"I'1 soon see," said Jemima, coolly, "whether
they're in the cave or not."
And the fearless girl, armed with her rifle, from
which she had never parted, walked to the entrance,
crouched upon her hands and knees, and disappeared
beneath the bushes and the shelving rock.
The others followed her at once, with their rifles,
partly from curiosity, and partly to assist her in case
there should be any danger.
They soon reached the interior of the cave; but it
was empty. They proceeded along the passage to the
well, found the opening into the cellar blocked up with
fallen timbers from the house, which was now a heap
of smouldering ruins, still finding no trace of the object of their search.
Turning on their steps, they retraced their way
toward the cave. When about fifty yards distant, Keziah, who was in advance, suddenly stopped, saying," Hark I what's that?"
All stopped, listened, and heard unmistakably the
sound of an axe, falling slowly in heavy blows, apparently proceeding from the cave.
Beckoning her daughters closer to her, Keziah now
moved along more slowly and cautiously than before,
the girls following close in her rear.
Arrived at a jutting point of rock which projected
partially across the passage, just before it opened into
the cave itself, Keziah stopped again, and all four concealed themselves behind it and listened again.
The blows of the axe stili continued, and, after a moment's listening,'Rlushy, who was next her mother,
saw her face, haggard enough before, suddenly grow
pale as death.




180        THE QUAKER PARtISANS.
" What's the matter, mother?" she whispered, anxiously.
"That axe is outside the cave, gal, right at the
mouth," said Keziah.
" So it is," said she, listening, but unable to imagine
why her mother was so agitated. " I wonder who it
can be choppin' there, just now."
"Choppin'!" said Keziah; "don't you know the
sound of an axe-edge better'n that? That's the butt
of an axe, drivin' a stake in the ground. We're shut
in i"
A look of dismay glanced from face to face, and
then, as by one impulse, they all hurried past the projection into the cave, seizing their rifles, which had
been leaning against the rock, and then to its mouth.
But there they stopped; for, jammed partly under
the shelving rock which formed the mouth, was a large
stone, closing up the aperture entirely, except one spot
at the upper right-hand corner, where the light came,
broken by the bushes outside, through a small opening
not larger than Keziah's hand.
Placing her shoulder against the stone, and beckoning her daughters to assist her, they all exerted their
utmost strength to move it, but in vain. Twenty times
their strength, exerted at the disadvantage of their constrained position in the low passage, would have succeeded no better.
They moved back to the higher part of the cave, a
few feet from the stone, and crouched on the floor,
Keziah groaning aloud in bitterness of spirit.
At this moment the small aperture I have mentioned
was darkened, and a voice with a villainously exaggerated nasal twang whined through it,



TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.            181
"Wal, naow, daon't you feel comf'ble, Keziah?
Whar's Jemimy? I reckon  -"
What was reckoned did not appear; for the speech
was cut short by the report of Jemima's rifle, she having recognized the voice and caught a glimpse, as it
peered through the opening into the darkness, of the
face of Yankee Nat, and instantly fired at it.
Half stunned by the report, and blinded by the
smoke, they were uncertain at first whether he had
been hit or not; but the next moment, though they
could see nothing, they heard the voice again, exclaiming," Cre-a-tion I what a she-painter I Good-by, Keziar;'member me to Jemimy." And then they heard a mocking laugh growing fainter and fainter in the distance
as the villain rode deliberately off and left his entrapped victims to their fate.
The prospect before them Was not encouraging. At
the mouth of the cave was the stone, jammed tightly
in, and then secured further by two stout stakes driven
deeply into the ground close to it, rendering it impossible to move it except from the outside. At the other
end of the long passage all egress was barred by the
timbers which had fallen into the cellar, so that there
was absolutely no way to get out except by climbing
straight up the perpendicular sides of the well; a feat
to the performance of which neither of the prisoners
felt herself competent.
16




CHAPTER XIV.
WHEN Thomas Sanford and his family, after some
difficulty, reached the cave, they found themselves in
the clutches of Yankee Nat and six of the other Tories,
who were there waiting, not for them, but for the Mac
Allans.
"Jee-rew-sl'm!" exclaimed Nat: "this is better
still. Haow's thee do, Thomas?" he added, in that
devilish, mocking, nasal drawl of his, and snuffling;
"didn't expect the pleasure o' thy company to-day.
Friends, this is Thomas Sanford, whar we got licked
from his house last Thursday night by the bloody
Rangers't licked us yesterday mornin', an' lost five of
our best men."
There was something in the voice that uttered this
remarkable bit of involved grammar, which. Jenny was
sure she had heard before; and, taking a better look at
its owner, she recognized in him the fellow who had
insulted her on the Thursday evening he had now referred to.
Carefully avoiding any sign of recognition, however,
but with spirits by no means lightened by this discovery, she stood silent, with her eyes cast down to
avoid those of Nat, which she felt were bent upon her.
" Naow, boys," resumed Nat, "I reckon we're got'baout th' best luck we could ha' had. These here
folks is wuth suthin' to captivate. Th' old woman an'
(182)




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             183
her gals wan't no'caount at all, in comparison o'
these. "
" What's that?" interrupted one of the others; "the
firin's stopped."
" Wal," said Nat, "'sposin' you squirm out an' see;
you're nearder th' hole'n anybody else."
The man accordingly crawled out to reconnoitre; in
a few minutes he was back at the entrance, calling
eagerly, but in a suppressed voice,"Nat I I say, Nat, come here quick!"
Nat dived into the low passage, and made his way
as rapidly as possible to its mouth.
"Fetch all hands out," said the fellow: "the house
is blazin' like a haystack, but there's the d    1 knows
how many Reg'lars around it, an' all our fellows is
disarmed. "
"Then we must run for it," said Nat, in a sharp,
quick tone, strongly in contrast with his ordinary
drawl; "get the horses ready;" and then, backing into
the cave again, hurried the other men, with the prisoners, into the open air, giving the latter, as they emerged,
a stern and hurried warning to be silent. The Tories
then mounted their horses, from which, however, three
of them, from very shame, soon dismounted, to allow
their prisoners to ride, and all except Nat immediately
disappeared in the woods, taking a roundabout course
to the rendezvous they had left in the morning.
Nat, instead of going with them, led his horse off out
of sight into the woods, and then concealed himself
among the bushes, with which the ground was overrun, to await the coming of Keziah and her daughters,
who he felt sure would. not be long in looking after
their guests, if they were left at liberty.




184        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
He had, as Keziah had said, lived with the Mac
Allans for a short time. He had not been there a week
before, with his prying Yankee curiosity, he had ferreted out the whole secret of the cave and the subterranean passage to it, in spite of all the care that was
taken to keep him in ignorance of it. He was a closemouthed fellow about his own affairs, however, and
always kept his knowledge to himself until he should
find an opportunity to bring it into use.
He was satisfied that if the women were not already
in the passage, the entrance to it in the cellar was so
blocked up by the ruins of the house that the cave
could not be reached from that direction.
Accordingly, he had waited patiently in his concealment until Keziah and her daughters had entered the
cave. As soon as they disappeared, he crept stealthily
up to the mouth, and, having heard their voices die
in the distance as they moved toward the well, had
rolled up the large stone and secured it as already
described.
When he had got through his laugh, he put spurs to
his horse, and galloped after his party.
Arrived at the rendezvous, they remained there
through the day and the greater part of the night, and
about an hour before daybreak started with their prisoners for the farm-house.
It was impossible to avoid passing Deborah's Rock
without making a wide detour, which would have consumed too much time, and Nat, who acted as guide,
determined to run the risk of skirting it, trusting partly
to Jenny's fears to keep her from giving any alarm, and
partly to the. hope of getting past the dangerous point
without her knowledge. He miscalculated both her




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             185
timidity and her acquaintance with the country, as the
event showed.
He had sprung to her side when she screamed for
help, and leveled his pistol at her head, but recovered
his coolness instantly, and lowered it again; for her
death was not consistent with his ultimate designs. It
was no lingering gentleness, no touch of pity for the
young, helpless girl who had thus been thrown so unexpectedly into his power, that held his hand: Nat,
son of Belial as he was, would have snuffled contemptuously at being charged with any such weakness.
Well was it for Jenny Sanford that Dandy Harry's
knife so effectually unsettled his plans and sent him
home to his master that morning; for the guard whom
Harry had dispatched so promptly just before the attack on the house was no other than Yankee Nat. He
has gone to his own place, and will appear no more.
All through the day, in the mean time, Keziah Mac
Allan and her daughters had remained prisoners in the
cave, not sitting with their hands in their laps, but
wearying themselves out in vain attempts, now to pry
away the stone with their rifle-barrels, now to force
their way into the cellar.
At last, as evening came on, completely overcome
with fatigue, they sank down on the floor of the cave,
and went to sleep.
They slept soundly, whether long or not they could
not tell. Keziah was awakened at last by a touch on
her shoulder.
Opening her eyes with a start, and catching an indistinct glimpse, in the gloom, of a man's figure, she
sprang to her feet, making a grasp at her rifle, which
lay beside her, as she rose.
16*




186        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
" My sakes alive, K'ziah," said a well-known voice,
"but I'm glad to find you an' the gals alive  But
what's been up?  Here's the house burnt down, an'
you fastened here in the cave. Where's Tommy Sanford an' his folks?"
Conquering an instinctive feminine tendency to hysterics, Keziah briefly detailed the events I have described, stating that they had held out till the house was
beginning to tumble over their heads, that they had
sent on the Sanfords in advance, not suspecting that
Nat knew the secret of the cave; their missing and
searching for them, and their imprisonment.
"That's what the firin' meant, -this mornin', then,"
said Mac Allan, after she had finished; "we heerd
it, an' seen the smoke, but thought it was furder off.
Well, we can't do anything to-night; we must go over
to the neighbor's now, an' start by sun-up for the
Rock, to let Captain Clayton know the Sanfords are
missin'."
Accordingly, having spent the night at the neighbor's, they made an early start in the morning, and, as
we have seen, reached the Rock just before the Sanfords and the party who had rescued them returned
with the dead body of Mahlon.
The account which Keziah had been giving Clayton
of the cause of their presence there, had been interrupted by the arrival of the party, and had not been
resumed until after the burial; the Sanfords had withdrawn a little apart, and were sitting by themselves;
and Keziah, at Clayton's request, stepping out of earshot, resumed her narrative in a low voice.
When she mentioned Captain GaCrder's name, be
interrupted her to ask about his personal appearance.




TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.            187
Keziah described him as well as she could, and with
sufficient accuracy to enable Clayton to recognize him.
"He named one o' your leftenants in partic'lar."
"Was it Wheeler or Wetherill?" said Clayton.
" No, that wan't the name," said she, considering a
moment. " I think it was Barnet, or Burton, or somethin'   "
" Barton?" said he.
"Yes,-Barton: that was it."
Barton, who had heard his name spoken by the captain, came over to where they were talking, supposing
he had been called.
" Thee remembers the young Englishman thee took
the other night, at the spring below New Castle,
Levi?" said Clayton.
"Yes," said Barton. " Have you seen him?"
"Friend Keziah, here, saw him  yesterday, at a
-very fortunate time for her. He was the means of
saving her and her daughters from burning to death
in their own house, or falling into the hands of the
remnant of the gang we drove from here on Sixth day
night. "
" Had he any force with him?" inquired Barton.
"He must have got to work without much delay after
he was exchanged."
"Yes, he had considerable force," said Clayton.
"I'll tell thee all about it after awhile. I would like
to hear the rest of thy story, now, Keziah."
"There hain't much more to tell," said she; and
then went on to describe the disarming of the Tories,
and their own adventure in the cave, their discovery
and release by her husband, and their journey to the
Rock.




188        TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
"Then the gang is completely broken up, I suspect," said Clayton; "all their fighting-men, who
survive, are prisoners. Our work with them is done.
We will stay here, however, till thy sons come in,
and then try for a few days whether we can pick up
some recruits; for our ranks have been terribly thinned
in the last three weeks; only what thee sees-about
forty men-left out of a hundred." And Clayton and
his lieutenant looked sadly around upon their scanty
force.




CHAPTER XV.
ON Tuesday morning all the scouts came in together.
They had tracked the Regulars, with their prisoners,
from the burned house, to the outpost of the British
army, supposing that all who had been left in the house
were prisoners, and then came back to report.
They were, of course, a good deal surprised. to find
those they had been seeking, all safe among friends.
The Rangers now abandoned the Rock, and, at
Thomas Sanford's earnest solicitation, quartered themselves at his house until they should be ready to leave
the neighborhood. Mac Allan and his family also went
there, and made it their home for some time after the
departure of the troop, Martha absolutely refusing to
let them go away until the cabin, which the old man
and his sons (whom Clayton had directed to remain
for the purpose, and join him as soon as possible afterward) had at once set about building, was completed.
It was on the afternoon of Tuesday, the 16th of
September, that the Rangers returned to the old house,
from the Rock.
In the five days which had elapsed since their retreat from Brandywine, including the night of that sad
day, they had gone through fighting enough to satisfy
the most reckless fire-eater among them all; and Clayton and his officers were not sorry to have the opportunity of a few days' exemption from it. Bettle cer(189)




190        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
tainly had no objection to the prospect of a little quiet
enjoyment of Jenny's society, now that the recent
events had brought about a tacit understanding between them, which needed no formal declarations on
either side.
The relation between them was by this time as
well understood by all the troop as it was by theniselves; and by common consent, not expressed, but
universally acted upon, Jenny was left to her lover,
with no more particular attentions from the' other
officers than civility and a strong liking for her called
for.
Moreover, Clayton-who, though as brave as any man
in his troop, and as unsparing in battle when his spirit
was fairly up, was no fire-eater-bhad observed, with
some uneasiness, that the constant fighting and excitement of the last two or three weeks had developed
symptoms of a taste for blood-letting among the wilder
and rougher men of the troop, which was not at all in
accordance with his views. He was anxious, therefore, on this account also, to have a little time for them
to cool down.
There was but little "soldiering" done, therefore,
during the few days they remained at Sanford's, with
the exception of training the new recruits, of whom
some twenty in all-about enough to mount the riderless horses which had followed the troop from Birmingham-were obtained from the neighborhood.
This was less difficult than might have been supposed, considering the consternation which the defeat
at Brandywine had spread over all this section of the
country. The knowledge, which spread like wild-fire,
that the Rangers, with only forty men, had succeeded




TIE Q UAKER PARTISANS.           191
in beating off and scattering two hundred Tories with
Black Rawdon at their head, besides killing the dreaded
chief himself, had produced a strong persuasion of the
invincibility of the troop.
With the exception of drilling morning and evening,
for the benefit of the new recruits, the men did pretty
much as they pleased through the day, though Clayton always had two or three of his hard-riding scouts
out scouring the country for information of the enemy's
movements.
Those who remained at home employed themselves
principally in fishing in the creek or gunning in the
woods around, turning their carbines into fowlingpieces for the time, and bringing home many a palatable
mess of birds and fish, and, on one occasion, a deer;
for deer were still occasionally found in that part of
Chester county.
Besides this, they did what they could on the farm,
to requite Thomas Sanford for his hospitality. His
corn was ready to cut, and on the morning after their
return to the house the whole troop turned in, -with
their swords for "cutters," and had the whole of it cut
and shocked by dinner time.
They gathered in the apples from the orchard and
stored them away, and finished his fall ploughing,
which had been interrupted by the raid of the Tories
upon him.
Of course, with so many mouths to provide for, the
female portion of the household, strengthened though
they were by the addition of Keziah and her daughters,
were kept pretty actively employed. It was better,
perhaps, that it was so, as it kept Jenny and her
mother from dwelling too much upon the loss of Mah



192        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
lon, at least during the day. But their pillows were
wet with tears at night, and for many a night afterward, during that fall and winter.
Mike devoted himself mainly to the horses, carefully
avoiding Bettle's Roland, however, having a very distinct recollection of his former experience with him, and
seeing very plainly that Roland had not forgotten it
either. Whenever he came near the horse, the ears
laid back, the suddenly dilated nostrils, the breath
hissed forcibly through them, and the glare of his
broad black eye as it followed all his motions vigilantly, gave him warnings which he could not mistake,
to keep out of reach.
On one occasion, when Roland had inadvertently
been placed in a different stall from the one he usually
occupied, he suddenly lashed out his heels at the poor
fellow, who was unconsciously passing him, and came
within an ace of dashing his brains out.
The stable-door, which was opposite the stall, received the blow, and was driven open from its fastenings-as if by the shock of a battering-ram.
Mike sprang head-foremost through the door, and,
when at a safe distance, stopped and shook his fist
wrathfully at the savage beast, exclaiming,"Tunder an' turf! ye spalpeen, if ye wasn't Mr..
Bettle's baste I'd hamsthring ye for that, an' spile
them pavin'-stones o' hales for iver an' a day."
Bettle, who was on the gangway of the barn at the
moment, heard the crash, followed by Mike's voice,
and, suspecting what was the matter, hastened down.
" Mike," said he, " I'm sorry the horse seems to have
such an enmity to you, and I really don't know how
to cure it."




THE QUARKER PARTISANS.            193
"Inmity, is it I" ejaculated Mike. " Tare an' ouns 
he's a divil entirely for bearin' malice. But, faix, it's
me that didn't go near'im o' purpose; some omadhaun
or other put'im in the wrong stall; if ye'd plase tell'im to put the brute where he belongs, an' kape puttin''im there, I'll know how to kape out o' his way."
Bettle called the trooper who had charge of Roland,
and had him removed to his proper stall, after administering a severe reprimand for his carelessness, for the
man acknowledged, in answer to his question, that he
knew the horse's antipathy to Mike perfectly well, but
had changed his place in the stable without thinking.
Bettle and Jenny were not so busy but that they
found time in the evenings, after supper, to take a few
long, quiet strolls together; and very pleasant strolls
they were, through the meadows, and along the banks
of the beautiful, quiet stream, which flowed on as
calmly and peacefully as if no sound but the murmur of
lovers' voices had ever mingled with the sough of the
autumn wind through the corn that Waved and rustled
on its banks, and among the trees that drooped over
them.
The lovers had many things to talk about; the trials
and troubles that had crowded upon them in the last
few days, the uncertain prospect for the future, their
reliance on each other,-for these same troubles had
swept away all reserve, and they talked freely and unrestrainedly,-and the hope that better times would
come, when all these alarms would be at an end.
It would have sounded curiously to those who only
knew Bettle as the reckless dare-devil partisan officer,
to hear him talk of the delights of a quiet, farmer's life,
and of his longing for the time when he could forsake
17




194        TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.
the wild, restless life he was now leading for what he
saw, in the light of the new feeling that had come over
him, was a far higher and better one; not that he had
any thought of leaving it now, however, for the conviction of duty which first led him to adopt it was as
powerful as ever.
Neither did Jenny urge it, for she had come to see
the question in the same light as he himself did, and
would not have persuaded him to abandon his duty, if
she could.
With all her quiet happiness at these times, however, the poor girl was sad enough, for she had loved
the boy who had fallen in the attempt to save her, with
all the fondness of an affectionate nature, and his death
weighed constantly and heavily upon her spirits.
Perhaps she clung the more tenderly to Bettle for this
loss: transferring to him the affection whose tendrils
had been so rudely torn away from the object to which
they had previously attached themselves.
As they walked' along the bank of the creek, on one
of these evenings, they had been talking of Mahlon,
and Jenny at last said," But, indeed, William, it does seem hard that the
youngest should be taken thus, and in the only battle
he was ever in."
"It is a sad loss, the more so as he was so young
and had attached us all to him so much. Jenny, as
we stood around him and John after the fight on that
sad morning, I saw the lips working and big tears
running, unnoticed by themselves, down the faces of
some of my own men, who I suspect had never shed
them since they were as young as the poor boy they
were grieving for."




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             195
"Those wild, stern, reckless-looking men  They
look as if nothing could ever move them," said Jenny.
"But it is strange that my brother was the only one
killed in such a fight as John described to me. How
did thee escape, so reckless and daring as he says thee
is?"
"I have to thank you, Jenny, for my life in that
affair," said Bettle.
"Me I" she exclaimed, gazing at him with that
earnest look I have before spoken of. "How could I
have anything to do with saving thee?"
"You had all to do with it, humanly speaking,
Jenny," said he.  "Do you remember the shoe you
dropped as you were going along?"
" Yes," said she; "I watched my chance and let it
fall from my foot, in hopes that they might have heard
me on the Rock when I called for help, and would follow and find it, so as to know we were not far off."
" Just what Frank did. Well, I took the shoe," he
said, with a smile, " because it was yours and I thought
I had the best right to it, and slipped it into my belt
for safe-keeping.  When Barton first ordered the
Tories to surrender, I was standing beside him, and
their leader fired his pistol at us; I had just stepped in
front of Barton, and felt myself driven back a step or
two as the fellow fired; I had been hit, sure enough,
but the shoe stopped the ball, which struck fair in the
heel, and buried itself there, leaving me to thank your
foresight in dropping it for my life."
"Does thee know," she asked, changing the subject,
"whether the captain intends to stay here long?  I
don't know whether it's right to feel so, but I can't
help hoping that it will be a long times before thee is




196        TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
called off to do any more of this dreadful fighting. I
can't bear to think of thy being in such constant
danger. What would I do if thee should be killed, as
my brother was?"
Bettle made no answer to this; nor, indeed, did
Jenny expect any, and they returned in silence to the
house, where they found the men gathered around
Frank, who had apparently been telling them some
news, for they were all alive with excitement.
Frank had been absent since the afternoon before,
scouting in the direction of Philadelphia, and had just
returned with information that the British were posted
near Tredyffrin Church, and that." Mad Anthony," with
fifteen hundred men, had been detached to annoy his
rear and divert his attention while Washington crossed
the Schuylkill at Parker's Ferry with what was left of
the main army.
There was but little probability that any more difficulty with the Tories would be experienced by the
Sanfords, or any other family in that neighborhood;
and Clayton at once determined to join Wayne, the
service in which the latter was employed being of a
character peculiarly in his own line, and the men being
eager to be at work again.
Everything, therefore, was prepared for an early
march the next morning. A messenger was sent to
Mac Allan's to see if his cabin was sufficiently advanced
to enable him to do without his boys. The latter came
back with the messenger, all ready for service, having
just finished putting the roof on the cabin so as to afford
some shelter, though the openings between the logs of
which the walls were formed had not yet been filled up.
The evening was spent in miulding balls, preparing




THE Q UAKER PAR TISA.NS.         197
cartridges, sharpening knives and swords, and cleaning fire-arms.
The next morning, by half an hour after sunrise, the
Rangers had dispatched a substantial breakfast, and
were in the saddle in marching order.
In a few minutes more they had passed out of sight,
carrying with them the fervent blessings of those they
had saved; while Jenny looked after them, with
dimmed eyes, through the tears she, this time, took no
pains to hide.
IT*




CHAPTER XVI.
THE Rangers moved rapidly on, not along the main
road, but south of it, over the same route that had been
taken eight days before by Frank when guiding the
Sanfords' escort, till they reached the spot where Mac
Allan was at work "chinkin' an' daubin'." as he
phrased it, at his cabin; that is, in English, filling up
the gaps between the logs with stones and mud.
As the troop halted for a moment, the old man suspended his work, and came forward.
" How do? how do?" he exclaimed, cordially; "you
see, we're a'most got into the house agin. They don't
build their grand houses in Philadelphy this fast, do
they, capt'n?" he added, addressing Clayton.
"No, not quite," said he, dryly; " they generally take
a good many times four days to get a house under roof,
and then take a month or two after they've done, to
finish it."
"But where are ye bound now?" said the old man.
"For the city?"
"Not directly," said Clayton, and, approaching Mac
Allan, leaned down from his horse and whispered in
his ear.
The latter shook his head doubtfully.
" I don't like that much," he muttered; " there's too
many Tories about there, that knows the country
enough sight better'n Mad Anthony or any of his men.
( 198)




TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.           199
He'll find himself in a trap afore he knows it, if he
don't look out."
"Well, I'm afraid thee's right," said Clayton; "but,
if there's any danger of that kind, we ought to be there
to do what we can to help him through it, and the
sooner and more quietly we get there, the better.
Farewell."
" Good-by," said Mac Allan, shaking hands with
him and then with his sons, one after the other. " Now,
boys," said he, addressing the latter, " you've all done
well, so far; I want to hear a good report of you from
the capt'n, wherever you're at work. Don't let the
old man hear anything about his boys that'll make him
feel ashamed of'em."
The troop now resumed its march, halting again at
the spring near West Chester, which I described some
chapters back, to water their horses; thence passing
along a few hundred yards to the southward of the
Turk's Head tavern, where they did not stop, and crossing the Lancaster road about a mile east of it at the
point now known as Gallows Hill, and then straight
across the country, crossing Chester and Ridley Creeks,
and threading their way through the thickly-wooded
country, until they reached the outposts of Wayne's
division. The place where the force lay had been well
chosen for concealment. It was deep in the woods,
about two miles southwest of where the Paoli Tavern
now stands, and was surrounded by hills. There was
one narrow defile, the site of a disused road, which
Clayton had marked, as he approached, as the point
from which danger was to be looked for. Still, the
place was so secluded that it would have been perfectly secure from discovery, had it not been for one or




200        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
more treacherous hounds living near, who knew every
defile and ravine in the neighborhood.
Halting his force near the outposts, Clayton rode
forward alone until challenged by a sentinel; waiting
here until the latter was relieved, he went in with the
guard to the tent of the general, to whom he announced
his errand and offered his services.
The latter, who had seen the conduct of the troop at
Brandywine, and had heard of their daring foray into
Knyphausen's camp,-an exploit which, harebrained
though it was, chimed exactly with his own adventurous spirit,-received him gladly, as a most valuable
assistant.
By the time their quarters had been assigned them
and taken up, the sun was set, and the cool autumn
twilight was coming on. The red flush had faded from
the sky, and then the pale green shone through the
broken cloud-masses like the distant meadows of the
land of Beulah. Beautiful, with a most exquisite and
tender beauty, is this pale, delicate green which
spreads over the western sky after the sun has fairly
sunk from view, and before the dull gray through
which the stars first come out, has crept over it. Few
writers seem to have noticed it, and I have rarely seen
a landscape, except some of Paul Weber's, in which
the artist appears to have observed it at all.
It faded rapidly out, and soon the camp was in darkness, except for the light of their fires, and by ten
o'clock all was silent.
Clayton had his own scouts on the lookout, in the
defile he had marked, in addition to the regular sentries; and a little after midnight, as he lay asleep with
his head resting on the saddle, he was aroused by a




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            201
touch on his shoulder. Springing to his feet, broad
awake in an instanft, he saw Bettle standing before him.
"What's the matter?" he inquired.
"I've heard Sam Diller's whistle twice from the
ravine yonder," said Bettle. -" There it is again!" said
he, as a long, clear, powerful whistle came from the
ravine, followed by the quick, angry bark of a watchdog, as if the animal had been roused by some one
passing. The latter noise was cut short suddenly, but
the whistle sounded again, and then another from the
same direction, a little to the right, and another and
another from the left, somewhat nearer, and then all
at once, as though a detachment of small locomotives
had broken loose. "Off to Wayne's quarters at once
and rouse him," said Clayton; " there's mischief afoot.
Leave me to rouse our men."
While Clayton was doing this, and before Bettle had
passed half the distance to the general's tent, a shot
was heard from the ravine, followed by three or four
more in rapid succession, and the picket guards came
running in at full speed, shouting, "The British I The
BritishI" followed closely by a column of infantry with
fixed bayonets.
"Tell Wheeler to set his men and Bettle's with the
new hands, to saddle the horses; take to the trees with
carbines, thee and Wetherill, with your men," said
Clayton, speaking to Barton, who had joined him, in
the sharp, rapid voice which men use when thoroughly
in earnest, " and pick the officers out wherever you can
see them."
The order was instantly obeyed, Wheeler's and
Bettle's men working rapidly but coolly among the
horses, while the rest of the force scattered among the




202        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
trees and opened a sharp but irregular fire upon the
advancing column with their carbines and the rifles of
the Mac Allans.
"Forward! forward!" shouted the leader, as the
head of the column wavered for an instant; "are you
going to be stopped by a dozen bush-fighters? Put
them up with the bayonet."
Twenty carbines cracked from as many different trees
in answer, dropping some three or four of the men
nearest him, but leaving him untouched. The column
moved steadily forward with fixed bayonets, dislodging
the Americans, who flitted from tree to tree, sometimes
in front, sometimes on either flank of the attacking
party, keeping up a brisk pattering fire, which, however, in the dim light, did but little execution.
In the mean time the silent bayonets were doing their
work upon the surprised and half-armed soldiers, who,
in their panic, rushed, undressed, from their tents, in
many instances right upon them; many others were
slain within the tents, pinned to the ground before
they could rise.
The camp was full of half-naked men rushing distractedly hither and thither, seeking only to escape.
So far, the affair had been little but a massacre; but
by this time Wayne had succeeded in rallying a few
companies, and his voice was heard, " Ready-aim low
-fire 1" and a storm of balls flew over the Rangers,
who, being between Wayne's men and the.enemy, had
thrown themselves fiat upon the ground at the sound
of the first order. Volley followed volley, telling with
some effect upon the close columns of the British,
though most of the balls were either lost by striking
into the trees or diverted by grazing them.




TIlE Q UA KER PARTISANS.         203
The Rangers, while holding their successive trees as
long as possible, had been gradually working their way
toward their horses, which were by this time ready.
Taking advantage of a brief lull in the firing, they
sprang to their feet, and, darting from tree to tree,
passed out of the line of fire, still using their carbines
as they had opportunity, till they reached the horses and
sprang into the saddles. At this moment the scene
was lit up by the glare of a dozen burning tents,
which had been fired by order of Colonel Gray, the
commander of the assailants; and then came the cries
of wounded men, who were perishing in them. This
dastardly piece of ferocity had the good effect of giving
light enough for Clayton's troop to act on horseback to
much better advantage. Putting his men in motion
instantly, he charged on the enemy's flank in solid
column; he succeeded in partially disordering them,
but they rallied immediately, and he was forced to give
back from a mass of bayonets which it would have
been utter madness to attempt to ride down.
The Rangers broke at once, but not in retreat nor
confusion; and in a moment they were hovering singly
or in groups of two or three around the advancing
column; in front, in rear, on either flank, these wild
riders wheeled and circled like hawks, in and out
among the trees, firing with deadly aim into the solid
mass of the assailants, while volley after volley whistled harmlessly by them in their rapid and ceaseless
evolutions.
The new recruits, who had been employed at first in
helping to saddle the horses, behaved quite as well as
Clayton had dared to hope; he had not been able as
yet to procure carbines for them, and several of them




204        THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
had not even swords; they all had pistols, however,
and several had brought their fowling-pieces and rifles
with them, when they enlisted. With such arms as
they had, however, they were at work as busily as the
rest, every man "on his own hook;" for there had
been no time to drill them in Clayton's peculiar system
of tactics, beyond teaching them a few of the more
common signals.
In the mean time, Wayne, with the small body he had
succeeded in rallying, was stubbornly holding his
ground, and covering the flight of the other panicstricken soldiers, whose officers-vainly, for the most
part-strove to check and form them in the rear.
The light of the burning tents, however, showed
him how utterly hopeless was the attempt to beat off
an enemy evidently stronger than his whole division
had been at the beginning; and he reluctantly ordered
a retreat.
It was conducted in good order at first, but soon
became a flight, with part of the enemy following in
hot pursuit, while the remainder amused themselves
by bayoneting such of the Americans, scattered about
and unarmed, as they could overtake.
Cries for quarter were heard all around, from naked
or wounded men, answered by, "No quarter to the
bloody rebels!" accompanied by savage oaths and the
thrust of bayonets, or the heavy "thud" and the crash
as the musket-butt came down upon some naked skull.
The fight was over; but, while the Americans under
Wayne retreated, Clayton accompanied them, his troop
still harassing the enemy with the irregular but galling
fire from their carbines, until they desisted from the
pursuit.




TITE Q U'AKER PARTISANS.         205
The British returned toward the camp, meeting on
the way General Smallwood coming to the assistance
of Wayne with a detachment of raw militia, who, at
sight of the enemy, instantly turned with alacrity and
ran for their lives right gallantly, and with a speed
which would have defied pursuit, had Colonel Gray
made any; a thing he had not the slightest intention of doing. Passing back through what was left
of the camp, he collected his forces, gathered up his
wounded, and before dawn the place was left in its
desolation; and when the sun rose, its light shone upon
the bodies of one hundred and fifty dead and wounded
Americans lying there, while above the groans of the
wounded rose the mournful voice of a soldier's dog,
which sat howling over the corpse of its master.
Thus ended the " Paoli massacre," for which General
Wayne has been not only severely censured, but most
bitterly slandered. He has been charged with having
been asleep at a farm-house a mile away from the camp
-with having never come near the field-with having
been surprised in his tent, and with having escaped
from the back of it and fled with his red-lined cloak
turned inside out, around his body, passing for a
British soldier in the darkness and amid the confusion
of the attack I Such lies as these passed current from
mouth to mouth, among those who knew nothing of the
affair but by rumor. The court-martial convened by
Washington about a month afterward, at Wayne's request, came to a different conclusion, after hearing the
testimony of those who knew what they were talking
about, and decided that "he did everything that-could
be expected from an active, brave, and vigilant officer,
under the orders which he then had."
18




CHAPTER XVII.
BY daybreak the Rangers were within a mile of the
right bank of the Schuylkill, on the Lancaster road.
As soon as Colonel Gray had given up the pursuit,
they had detached themselves from the body of fugitives-it being, as we have seen before, no part of their
custom to accompany any main body of men in a flight
-and ridden straight toward Philadelphia, intending
to hover in and around the city and watch the motions
of the enemy, who had approached fearfully near, and,
indeed, were preparing to take possession.
Soon after they left the main body, the three Tory
prisoners they had brought with them suddenly occurred to Clayton, for the first time since the attack;
and he asked Bettle if he had seen them.
" No," said the latter; "I never thought of the rascals," and, riding to the rear, inquired of Frank if they
were with the troop.
Frank answered in the negative.
"When did you discover their absence?"
"How?"
"When did you miss them?" said Bettie, simplifying.
"Oh! know'd it ever since we started," said Frank,
who had understood the question in its previous form
perfectly well, but had a perfect hatred of what he
called "booktionary talk."
(206)




s: ~ ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
/i; ~~[
DANGER AHEAD!
D_    0








TItE QUAKER PARTISANS.           20o
"Why didn't you report to the captain, then?" said
Bettie, a little sternly.
"No use," said Frank, coolly; "nobody but the d —1
could ha' caught'em, with the start they had, even if
there'd been time to hunt'enm. Let'em go; can't do
no harm."
Bettle was fain to be content with this, knowing that
no more information would be extracted from Frank,
and rode back to Clayton with his report.
" It can't be helped," said the latter; " but they may
have escaped at the beginning of the attack, and, if they
reach the city in advance of us, may meet some outlying parties of the enemy and give us trouble by informing them of our movements."
Nothing more was said, for none of the officers were
men to waste breath in discussing matters that were
inevitable, and the troop rode on in silence till they
reached the spot mentioned in the beginning of the
chapter.
As the day began to break, Frank and Harry had dismounted, and gone a short distance in advance to reconnoitre, the troop following at a walk, with their arms
secured from rattling and jingling in the usual manner.
They were proceeding cautiously, listening for signals, when the two scouts suddenly appeared-I was
going to say, breathless; but that was a condition that
Frank Lightfoot and Dandy Harry did not easily get
into-and, both speaking at once, hurriedly exclaimed
to Clayton," Close. up, close up! There's eighty or a hundred
British light-horse in the road, not two hundred yards
off!"
" Well," said Clayton, who at the first sight of them




208        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
had silently thrown up his hand as a signal for the
troop to halt, "well, are they in motion?"
"No," said Harry; "they're drawn up in the road,
— I suspect waiting for us,-just around the second
turn, about two hundred yards off."
"Did you get near enough to count them?"' said
Clayton.
" Yes; but we didn't stop to do it carefully. However, there can't be less than what we said. "
"But look'e here," interrupted Frank, "by the
hokey! I seen them three rascals that got off back
yonder among'em."
" Is thee sure of that?" inquired Clayton.
"Certain; I know'em too well to make a mistake."
"We must avoid a fight, if possible," said Clayton;
"they are probably fresh, and our own men and horses
are too tired to attempt such odds. At the same time,
I want to reach the city if it can be done. What does
thee advise, Levi?" he added, addressing Barton, who
was beside him.
"I'm  afraid we'll have to try and fight our way
through," said the latter, speaking rapidly. "I hear
them in motion now-" as the tramp of what was evidently a considerable body of horsemen, accompanied
by the jingle of their arms, which they took no pains
to silence, was borne past upon the fresh morning air"they're coming. If we retreat along the road, we'll be
overtaken and cut to pieces; we're hemmed in by this
swampy ground on the one side, and this thicket on the
other-  "
" Thee's right," interrupted Clayton. " Form across
the road, and give them a volley as they come up, and
then charge on them; we may cut our way through."




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            209
The troop was at once formed in a solid column,
filling the road from side to side, and they sat waiting
in grim silence for the attack, with carbines unslung
and cocked, and holsters opened ready.
About twenty yards in advance the road turned
somewhat sharply around a bank, and Clayton had
ordered his men to hold their fire until enough of the
enemy had passed the turn for the discharge to tell
upon with full effect.
By this time the enemy, who had been coming on in
a sharp trot, arrived at the turn,- and the next instant
the head of the column had passed it, coming in full
view of the Rangers.
"Ready, now; ready I" said Clayton, in a low, quick
tone, and, simultaneously —
" Halt I" exclaimed the other leader, suddenly reining
back his horse against the foremost rank of his men,
and then holding a white handkerchief aloft. "Hold,
there! don't fire on us," as he observed the carbines of
the Rangers at their shoulders.
Clayton, watching him closely, motioned with his
left hand to his men not to fire, and then waited to see
what was to grow out of this unusual way of managing a charge of cavalry.
"May I speak a word to you, sir?" said the leader,
courteously, addressing Clayton, and riding forward a
few paces alone.
" Certainly thee may," said Clayton, also riding forward, until they met about half-way between their
respective troops, his own men holding their carbines
still cocked. "What has thee to say to me?"
"I suspect, from your language," said the other,
smiling, "that I have found the men I'm looking for.
18*




210        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
You are Captain Clayton, commanding a corps of
American Free Rangers, if I mistake not."
"I am," said Clayton, quietly, though wondering to
what all this was going to lead.
"Then, sir, I am happy to inform you that I have
secured three runaway prisoners of yours, who informed
me that I would be likely to meet you here, and who
within the next five minutes will probably be in a state
of profound astonishment."
Clayton was decidedly in that state himself at this
moment.
"I see you are mystified, sir," said the stranger.
"My name is Allen McLane, commanding very much
such a corps as your own, but at this moment, for
satisfactory reasons, masquerading in British uniforms.
Your runaways fell in with us about half an hour ago,
and, taking us for the genuine article, at once joined
us for protection."
"I see, I see," said Clayton, laughing. "But why
did they run the risk of coming on here, instead of
joining the force that attacked us?"
"I asked them the same question," said McLane,
"and they told me they did attempt to do so, but were
not believed, and had to run for their lives with the
rest. "
A momentary glimpse of suspicion shot across Clayton's mind, for he was cautious by nature and habit,
and it occurred to him that this story might, after all,
be only a ruse to lull suspicion until his own men
should be entangled with the others, so as to be incapable of a combined and effectual resistance.
"What does thee propose to do?" he inquired.
"To combine our forces," was the prompt reply;




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             211
"at any rate, to work in concert against the British,
when they take possession of Philadelphia, as they
will, inevitably. Nothing short of a miracle can prevent it; they will make it their winter quarters; and I
intend to make it my business to keep in the neighborhood just as long as they stay there, and annoy them
by intercepting their supplies and cutting off all who
venture outside. "
"Thee is not trying to deceive me?" said Clayton.
"If I were really an enemy, would I have been
likely to make this parley, with a force so much your
superior? I see an acquaintance among your officers,
who can tell you who I am."
" Who is it?'
"Mr. Wetherill, there; will you be good enough to
call him?"
Wetherill came forward in answer to a motion from
Clayton, and, as he reached the spot, Captain McLane
removed his cap and held out his hand to him, as he
looked keenly at him, saying,"Have you forgotten your old friends, Mr. Wetherill?"
"Allen McLane!" exclaimed Wetherill, in surprise,
grasping his hand warmly; " I'm glad to see thee, but
certainly I didn't expect to meet thee in this dress:
thee used to be a terrible rebel."
" I'm as bad a one as ever I was," said McLane,
who then explained his disguise as he had done before
to Clayton, adding, with a laugh, "and I certainly
didn't expect to find men that say'thee and thou,'
with broadswords belted around their plain coats. But
I wanted you to satisfy your captain that we are friends
and not enemies."




212        TIHE QUAKER PARTISANS.
"Oh, if that's all, I presume thee's satisfied, Ellis?"
said Wetherill, turning to Clayton.
"Perfectly," said the latter; " and now I am free to
say I'm very glad thee is not what thee seems to be,
for I was really very uneasy about the prospect of a
fight with thy force. My people are wearied out by a
hard march and harder fighting this morning, and are
in sore need of rest."
"We'll soon find a place for that," said Captain
McLane, " if you'll put them in motion."
Wetherill accordingly went back to the troop, who
were still standing, waiting in puzzled amazement for
the issue of this strange conference, explained the true
state of the case, and the whole party retraced their
steps toward the city, crossed the Schuylkill, and then,
striking northward, pushed rapidly toward the hills of
the Wissahickon.
The astonishment of the three Tories when they
found themselves prisoners again was, to say the
least, profound. No explanations were vouchsafed to
them, of course, and they rode in the center of the
Rangers, to whom they had been transferred, in a state
of pitiable bewilderment, to which were added very
uncomfortable misgivings as to the unraveling of the
mystery.
Now, I am not going to describe the place which the
Rangers and their new friends occupied on the Wissahickon; for I know, if I do, that somebody will incontinently establish an "ice-cream and other refreshments" saloon there, and somebody else will open a
lager-beer saloon; complicated with a bowling-alley
and three billiard-tables, and fast young men will
drive hired horses and light wagons furiously, and get




TEE QUAKER PARTISA2NS.            213
very drunk on bad liquors, and picnic-parties will drive
out there in double omnibuses, with a brass band in
the foremost. No: I'll spare it all these abominations,
by avoiding any description of it.
Suffice it to say, it was among the hills, and was
used as a rendezvous until some time after the British
had taken possession of the city, a constant communication being kept up with the American army, and the
British worried by constant forays and surprises of
stragglers and outlying parties,-enterprises in which
the conduct of the Rangers so satisfied Captain
McLane of the superiority of their training for their
particular business, that he begged Clayton to take a
portion of his own men under his command and train
them.
The latter chose thirty of the best riders among
them, so as to bring his force nearly up to its original
number, and soon had them perfectly trained and disciplined.
In the mean time, on the 26th of September, just
one month after Clayton's foray into the Hessian
Camp at Turkey Point, Lord Cornwallis, better known
among his own men as " Old Corn-Cob," had entered
Philadelphia at the head of a detachment of British
and Hessian grenadiers, leaving the rest of the army
encamped at Germantown.
They marched down Second Street to their camp,
which was below the city, with McLane's men hovering in their rear. Five of these, disguised as British
cavalry, with the captain at their head, pounced upon
a Captain Sanford* at the bridge over Dock Creek,
* No relation to Jenny.




214        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
and carried him and his horse off together, after having
just missed the adjutant-general, with his papers,
above, near Chestnut Street.
Before the British entered the city, Congress adjourned to meet at Lancaster, to which place all the
archives were removed, and at the same time caused
to be arrested and sent to Virginia about twenty stiffnecked individuals, among whom were several of the
prominent "Friends" who had been instrumental in
getting up the " Testimony" spoken of in the beginning of my narrative,-they having stubbornly refused
to give, either by word or writing, any promise of allegiance to the Continental Government.




CHAPTER XVIII.
THIE city was now practically in the possession of
the enemy. Washington had moved down the Schuylkill from Potts Grove, where he had been encamped,
to within about sixteen miles of Germantown, at which
place the bulk of the British forces was still lying, and
the two armies lay for some time watching each other's
movements.
Howe probably supposed that when he had co1quered Philadelphia he had conquered the country of
which it was the capital. If he did so, he soon discovered his mistake; for he was in a very short time
made acquainted-.ay, and thenceforth kept acquainted,
too-with the fact that he commanded precisely the
area of ground which his army covered for the time,
and not one foot beyond it.
The prestige which the taking of the capital was to
give to the British arms, which was so much counted
on, amounted to just nothing at all.
It spread no panic through the country; it brought
the American forces no nearer to a surrender; Congress, when the time came, simply shifted its quarters
first to Lancaster, and then to York; and, lo I Lancaster, and then York, became for the time the Seat of
government, and Philadelphia-simply a British encampment between the Schuylkill and the Delaware I
Nevertheless, the British encampment between the
Schuylkill and the Delaware was not the most com( 215 )




216        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
fortable in the world, during the succeeding fall and
winter.
Their supplies were anything but plentiful, and there
was a very inconvenient lack of fire-wood, in particular.
True, there was no lack of willingness among the
farmers in the vicinity to furnish everything that was
wanted, nor any lack of efforts to furnish them; but a
great deal of produce started to the city that never
reached it, and a good many foraging parties went out
that either came back faster than they went, or came
not back at all; for there were hawks up the river and
down the river and circling everywhere around the
outskirts, swooping down upon farmer and forager,
snapping them up or putting them to flight, and turning many a drove of sheep and cattle and many a
load of grain, from their intended destination, into the
hungry stomachs at Valley Forge.
But I am getting on too fast for my story. None
of the British except the detachment which accompanied Cornwallis had as yet entered the city, but
were, as I said before, at Germantown.
On the 1st of October, Washington, who still remained encamped near Pennibecker's Mill, was reinforced by the arrival of some troops from Peekskill
and a body of militia. At the same time, Howe was
weakened by the absence of Cornwallis's detachment
in Philadelphia, and of a force which he had dispatched
down the Delaware for the purpose of reducing Billingsport and the forts at Red Bank and on Mud Island.
Washington was aware of this, being kept posted as
to all the enemy's movements by the Irregulars, whose
scouts were constantly hovering about their camp; and
he determined to give them battle.




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            217
His army was not in the best possible condition for
service, for their ammunition was none too plentiful,
and at least a thousand of them were barefooted, and,
in fact, with a few exceptions, the whole army was
pervaded by a general air of raggedness.
It was necessary to intercept all communication
between the British and the inhabitants of the surrounding country, in order to prevent their design
from being betrayed; and the Irregulars separated
into small detachments, and scoured all the roads leading to Germantown and the city, from the 1st till
midnight of the 3d of the month.
Washington had started for Chestnut Hill, in company with the column under the command of Sullivan
and Wayne, flanked by Conway's division, at dark on
the same evening, hoping to reach the place and surprise the British pickets there, before daylight. But
the road was rough and difficult to travel, and when
midnight came they were still miles away.
Barton's division of the Rangers, accompanied by
Clayton, joined them at this point, having reconnoitred
the road from near Chestnut Hill, and bringing with
them a party of three countrymen whom they had
intercepted, and reported himself to Washington.
The prisoners were ordered to the rear while Clayton proceeded to make his report.
"How is the road?" inquired Washington, as Clayton paused in his recital.
" Very rough; worse, if possible, than it is here."
"Did you see any of the enemy's patrols?"
" We came upon one party about three miles below,
and chased them for a mile, but they escaped in the
darkness by turning into the woods; we didn't pur19




218        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
sue them any farther, being satisfied with driving them
off the road."
"I am sorry they escaped you," said Washington;
"II fear they will give notice of our approach."
"I think not," said Clayton. " Hardly a night has
passed since we came into the neighborhood, without
some such rencontre taking place between my own men
or Captain McLane's, and some of the enemy's vedettes.
I am satisfied that they knew us, and will not suspect
the presence of any larger force until they see it."
"Where did you' take the prisoners you brought
in?"
"Just below, on our way hither."
" Then they have had no opportunity to communicate
with the enemy?"
"None whatever," said Clayton; " I am certain that
those we chased were the outermost patrol; all the
other roads are in possession of my own men or
McLane's. "
" Do you expect to have your men together, in a
body, in the battle?" inquired General Wayne.
" Certainly," said Clayton: "they have orders to fall
in with Pulaski's cavalry at the first opportunity."
" Then you intend to fight under his command this
time," said Mad Anthony; "I was in hopes to have
had your dare-devils with me to-day, to help me in
wiping out that matter at the Paoli."
"Thee may possibly have them yet," said Clayton,
smiling: "we will remain with Pulaski until I think
we can do better elsewhere. I think it likely, if thee
should be in the part of the field where Colonel Gray
is, thee will have a chance of such assistance as we
can give."




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             219
"Your men are hardly adapted, from their training,
for field-service, I imagine, sir," interrupted Washington.
" They have been thoroughly trained for every kind
of service," said Clayton, " except artillery."
"If your Excellency had seen them at Brandywine,
and the way they charged in solid column on those
scoundrels at Paoli," said Wayne, "you would have
no fears as to their ability for field-work."
But little more was said, and the army proceeded as
silently. as possible, until they reached the woods on
Chestnut Hill at daybreak.
As they emerged from the woods, the vanguard
came upon one of the enemy's outlying patrols, not
fifty yards in advance; the latter put spurs to their
horses and galloped down the road, hotly pursued by
a dozen of the Rangers, with Barton at their head.
The patrol were well mounted, of course, but they
would have stood no chance at all with the fleet horses
that were after them, had they not come pell-mell upon
a party of some fifty light-horse a short distance above
Mount Airy.
They were so close upon them before they perceived
them, that pursuers and pursued drew up together in
a confused mass, within thirty feet of the light-horse,
who had halted on hearing the clatter of hoofs coming
down the road.
This confusion saved Barton and his small force;
for they were so mixed and entangled with the patrol
that the larger force were afraid, at first,'to fire or
charge on them for fear of shooting or riding down
their friends, and they stood for a moment irresolute.
Taking advantage of this nause, Barton gave the




220        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
signal for retreat, and his men, wheeling their horses
directly in their tracks, separated instantly, leaped the
fences on each side of the road, and in a moment were
skirting through the meadows, like moss-troopers,
scattered, after their fashion in such cases, like a flock
of partridges.
A few pistols were fired after them, and the British
were about to pursue, but their leader ordered them to
stand fast.
"I know those men," said he to his lieutenant:
"they're Clayton's Rangers, I know by their manaeuvres; we might as well chase shadows-  "
"Back, back!" exclaimed the officer in command of
the patrol: "the whole rebel army's within half a mile
of us!"
" The d-1!" exclaimed the other, in consternation.
No more words were wasted, and the whole party
rode back to the nearest post as fast as they could spur
their horses, and gave the alarm.
The Fortieth Regiment, with a battalion of light infantry which was stationed at Mount Airy, immediately formed, to receive, as they supposed, the shock
of the whole army; their commander sending the
patrol on to the main body, which was encamped some
distance below, in the middle of Germantown.
They had hardly formed, before Conway came
sweeping down upon them in a furious attack, which
drove them headlong into the village.
The battle was begun; it has beeni too often and too
well described by more competent hands, to make it
necessary for me to enter into its details, and I shall
have but little to say about it, except so far as relates
to the connection of the Rangers with it.




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            221
When the retreating columns reached the head of
the village, Colonel Musgrave, the commander, threw
himself, with five or six companies of the Fortieth
Regiment, into the large stone house known now,
wherever American history is known, as "Chew's
House," and held it throughout the battle, with a stubborn bravery that deserves all praise.
While the battle was raging around this temporary
fort, General Greene had come around by the Limekiln Road, routed a battalion of light infantry and. the
Queen's Rangers, on the right wing of the enemy, and
was now hotly engaged with the left flank of the same
wing, striving to enter the village. The Pennsylvania
militia, under General Armstrong, also came down the
Manatawny Road (now known as the Ridge Road),
upon the left wing, commanded by Gray, which it was
their business to attack and turn; and when they
reached it, arriving in front of the German Chasseurs,
on the left flank, to their imperishable glory be it said,
they stood still, and never attacked them at all I Whereupon Colonel Gray betook himself, with nearly the
whole left wing, to the assistance of the center, which
had its hands more than full.
The Maryland and Jersey militia, under Smallwood
and Forman, who were ordered to march down the
York Road and attack the right flank of the right
wing, executed the first half of their instructions, that
of marching down the road, admirably, but arrived on
the ground so late that there was nobody left for them
to attack, the said wing having left the ground to go
to the assistance of the center, near Chew's house.
Here was the brunt of the battle. The Rangers, in
obedience to Clayton's orders, had fallen in succes19*




222        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
sively, as they came up, with Pulaski's cavalry as a
gathering-point. As soon as they were all together,
Clayton led them off toward the house, having heard
that Colonel Gray was there, and feeling a strong
desire to make his acknowledgments to him in person
for the affair at Paoli.
A heavy fog had fallen early in the morning, and
everything was thickly enveloped in it. It was so
dense that the different divisions of the two armies
could not see each other, and both sides were guided
in firing by the flash of each other's muskets.
Guided by the incessant rattle of musketry and cannon, which were both playing on Chew's house, Clayton pushed rapidly up the street toward the house,
catching here and there dim glimpses of the battalions
moving ghostily through the fog, along whose lines,
ever and anon, ran the red stream of fire. Disregarding these, not looking to see whether they were friend
or foe, Clayton held sternly on to seek Colonel Gray.
A company of British infantry, which had become
detached from the main body in the confusion (for
after the first volley or two the British loaded and
fired without regard to order, and with broken ranks),
wheeled into the street directly in front of the Rangers
before they saw them in the thick fog.
They were greatly inferior in number, besides being
on foot, and escape and resistance seemed alike hopeless. Nevertheless, the instant their captain saw the
figures that loomed through the mist, distinctly enough
to know that they were enemies, without stopping to
see how strong they were, he ordered his men to halt,
down front rank, and prepare to repel cavalry. The
order was obeyed with all the marvelous promptness




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.           223
and precision with which thoroughly disciplined troops
execute their manceuvres, and by the time the Rangers,
who kept on their steady gallop, neither hastening nor
slackening their pace, had come within thirty feet of
them, the road was blocked by a rank of men on one
knee, with musket-butts braced against the ground and
a line of bayonets bristling in front of them, while behind them was another rank half crouching, with arms
presented, and behind them again another and the last
rank, standing bolt upright, with their muskets at their
shoulders, leveled above the heads of those in front.
"Stand fast, men," Clayton heard the officer exclaim; "stand fast; don't fire, till you can see their
belts."
" Halt," said Clayton; and, as the trained horses
stopped at the word, planting their fore-feet out and
throwing themselves almost on their haunches with the
sudden check, he called, riding forward alone as he
spoke,"I should know that voice. Is that Captain Gardner?"
" It is," said a voice, as the speaker advanced toward
him. " Is not that Captain Clayton?"
" The same," said Clayton. " Let us pass each other
in peace, and seek strangers for enemies."
"With the greatest pleasure," said Gardner, " particularly as it depends a good deal upon your forbearance whether my handful of men passes at all."
"I presume it does," said Clayton, smiling; "I
would not willingly attack thee at all, and at present I
owe thee a debt of kindness, for saving some of our
friends from a gang of marauding villains, the other
day, near Brandywine."




224        TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
" Oh! the women," said Gardner, with some interest. " Yes, I was just in time: did they reach you in
safety?"
" Yes, they came in the next morning," said Clayton. "But we must not waste time talking here," he
added. " If thee will withdraw thy men, we will push
on: let us avoid each other, if possible, during the
battle."
Captain Gardner nodded, and immediately ordered
his men to recover their arms and march; an order
which they obeyed with as much alacrity as amazement
at finding themselves allowed to do so.
At this moment an officer in the American uniform
spurred up to where Clayton was standing.
"What troop is this?" he inquired.
"Clayton's Rangers," was -the answer. "Can thee
tell how the battle is going?"
"Heaven only knows," said the officer. "I believe
there are a dozen battles going on at once; there's no
possibility of keeping any kind of order in this cursed
fog. I was sent to tell General Sullivan to silence that
battery in an orchard that lies over yonder, but I can't
find him. Will you undertake it?"
"Of course," said Clayton, briefly.
"Well, at them, then," said the officer, motioning in
the direction of the orchard. " I hope you'll succeed, for
their fire's too hot for comfort." And away he spurred.
Clayton immediately put his men in motion in the
direction indicated by the officer, guided only by the
roar of the cannon and an occasional glimpse of their
flash, through the smoke and fog: indeed, this was all
he could see; orchard, cannon, and soldiers were all
invisible



THE QUA KER PAR TISANS.          225
Sweeping around, so as to get out of the line of fire,
they pushed across the intervening meadows until
within fifty yards of the battery; halting here for a
moment, Clayton ordered the Mac Allan boys to dismount and steal with their rifles along the orchard
fence, in advance of the troop, as near as they could
get without being discovered, instructing them what
to do when they had reached the point.
The ten young giants dismounted at once, knowing
that their horses would keep in the ranks whether
mounted or not. Stealing along the fence, crouching
low, with trailed rifles, they made their way rapidly
toward the battery, which was still in full play; while
Sullivan's brigade, somewhere off in the fog, was keeping up a brisk but random fire, in another direction.
The fence had been leveled for several yards on
each side, so as to give space for the cannon. They
were placed on the edge of a kind of bank, along which
the fence extended.
Arrived at the opening in the latter, and near
enough to see the enemy with tolerable distinctness,
five of the party crouched in the corner of the worm
fence, while the other five, throwing themselves fiat
upon the ground, worked-their way, at some distance
from the edge of the elevation, across the line of fire,
but so far below its level that the balls hurtled over
them harmlessly, and gained the other end of the opening unperceived.
After the next discharge of the guns, as the artillerymen sprang forward to reload them, the sharp,
almost simultaneous, crack of the Mac Allans' rifles
was heard, and all the men at the guns but two went
down, and then came the rush of cavalry, and the next




226        TIHE QUAKER PARTISANrS.
moment the wild riders poured in solid column upon
the flank of the body which supported the battery, before any attempt could be made to reload the guns.
Taken by surprise, having no time to display their
front to repel the charge, they were broken in a moment, and the Rangers were in the midst of them. An
attempt to form again was defeated by an unexpected
movement of the Rangers, who-from some previously
understood arrangement, apparently, for not a word
was spoken-separated into four divisions, and, each
taking a different direction, forced the disordered
crowd apart, driving them farther and farther back.
As each division penetrated the heart of the mass before
it, its riders turned again, back to back, thus forming
two fronts, each of which continued to force their enemies apart until they had been completely broken up
into separate squads.
Then, closing again into solid column, they attacked
these scattered parties in detail, riding down, shooting, sabering, in rapid succession, till all who were left
threw down their arms and called for quarter.
"Where is your commanding officer?" said Clayton.
" I believe I must serve your turn for want of a better," said an officer in a lieutenant's uniform, advancing.
" Does thee surrender?" said Clayton.
The officer started, and, looking at Clayton for a
moment in astonishment, muttered, "George Fox
again, as I live!" and then added, aloud, "I can't help
myself, that I see. I have nothing but this to give up
to you," offering the hilt of his sword: "the blade
parted company with it a minute ago in the scuffle."
"Keep it," said Clayton.
The oflficer bowed.




TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.          227
And now occurred the strangest and most contradictory of all the strange and contradictory things in
this helter-skelter battle of Germantown.
At this very time the British were practically defeated I General Howe had given up the battle, and
had given orders to rendezvous at Chester. The main
body, overpowered in the center of the village, had
been on the point of retreating, when Gray and Knyphausen, taking advantage of the magnanimous forbearance of the Pennsylvania militia in disobeying
their orders, and the very accommodating deliberation
of the Maryland and New Jersey militia in coming up
too late to be of any use, threw the whole left wing
into the village, to the assistance of the center. This
checked the Americans, who had before been gaining
ground rapidly, and they were finally driven back.
Colonel Gray then hurried to the assistance of the
right wing, which was engaged with General Greene's
column. General Sullivan, with Colonel Armstrong
and General Conway, had driven the enemy into the
village, when they suddenly found themselves unsupported by other troops, their ammunition exhausted, and,
dimly visible through the fog, a powerful force forming
on their right. At that moment some one called aloud
that they were surrounded, and the Americans, in a
sudden panic, one of the most unmanageable disorders to which armies are subject, broke away into a
full retreat, tossing the victory out of their hands at
the moment when they had only to close them upon it
to make it secure.
The British commander ought to have felt deeply
his obligations to the gallant militia who didn't attack
his left wing; for to their disregard of their orders was




228        THIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
owing, mainly, the turn of the battle. A great deal of
precious time, however, was lost before Chew's house,
owing to General Knox's opposition (which savored
very strongly of what is known, since the Crimean
war, as "red tape") to leaving the house in possession of Colonel Musgrave and following up their advantage outside, because " it would be unmilitary to
leave a castle in our rear;" when the simple fact was
that Colonel Musgrave could have done no harm
while in the house, had he been only let alone, and a
single regiment could have taken care of him had he
attempted to sally out.
The battle was lost.  The Americans retreated
twenty miles, carrying all their artillery with them, to
Perkiomen Creek, leaving behind them nearly seven
hundred dead and wounded, besides about a hundred
reported "missing," some of whom were prisoners,
and some of whom had availed themselves of this
capital opportunity to quit soldiering and sneak off
home.
The loss of the British, as appeared by a torn report
which was afterward found in a chimney-corner in
Germantown and the fragments put together, was
about eight hundred. Thus ended the second pitched
battle in which the Rangers shared, in disaster and
defeat.




CHAPTER XIX.
I LEFT the Rangers standing in the orchard, in possession of the artillery, with the troops that belonged
to it prisoners. They did not remain, however, but
moved off with their prisoners toward the main body
of the Americans.
" Haven't I met thee before?" said Clayton to the
British lieutenant, as they proceeded. "Thy face and
voice seem familiar to me."
"Yes," said the other: "we have met twice before.
Do you recollect the officer who let you into the Hessian camp at Turkey Point, and afterward gave the
alarm when you made the night attack on it?"
" True," said Clayton, " that was it; I remembered
thee, but couldn't place thee. How did thee recognize
me?"
" By your language, as soon as I heard your voice,
and by your face, as soon as I saw it. It is not one
to be easily forgotten."
This was true enough, and the Englishman, perhaps,
had the faintest possible idea that Clayton would not
be displeased at being told so.
"Are your troop all Qua-no, Friends-that's the
word, isn't it?"
"We call ourselves Free Quakers," said Clayton;
"though most of the Society prefer to be called Friends.
All my officers, and some of the men, are of the same
persuasion."
20           (229)




230        TIIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
" I beg your pardon," said the officer, dryly, " but
has their being Quakers anything to do with making
them fight like unchained devils?  I thought I had
seen a good deal of desperate fighting in my time, but
I certainly never saw a body of troops charged into
and dissected as ours was."
"I don't know that being Quakers has anything to
do with it," said Clayton, smiling: "fighting, like
everything else, if worth doing at all, is worth doing
well, and they have been thoroughly trained to their
work."
" Your horses fought, too, as savagely as their riders.
It was their biting and kicking, indeed, that disordered
our ranks, more even than the sabers and pistols of
your men."
They had by this time reached the main street of the
village, but, while crossing it, Sullivan's division, having broken, as I said before, came pell-mell up the
street.
The Rangers, entangled among the broken columns,
strove in vain to extricate themselves, and were carried away in the rush and separated entirely from their
prisoners.
It was some time before Clayton could get his men
out of the crowd and in column again; but he finally
succeeded, and, leaving the discomfited army to pursue
its retreat, struck off across the country toward the
rendezvous near the Wissahickon.
When he reached it, and the roll was called, to
seven of the names no answer was returned, and ten
more were reported present, but wounded.
Among the missing was Frank Lightfoot.
" Has any one seen him?" inquired Clayton.




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.           231
"I saw him," answered Dandy Harry, "just before
that flock of frightened sheep came down on us in the
village and threw us into confusion."
" He must have got separated from us then," said
Clavton.
"If so," said Barton, "he is most probably taken,
as I don't think he would follow that herd- of runaways
any farther than he could help."
"We can't spare Frank," said Captain McLane, who
was present, with what was left of his own force; "we
can't spare Frank. We must find out what has become
of him: if they have him prisoner, we'll get him back,
if we have to burn the city to do it."
"If they've got him," said Bettle, "it will puzzle
them to hold him long: quicksilver isn't more slippery
than Frank. Who'll volunteer to go back to Germantown and try to find him?"
Nearly every voice in the troop was raised at once.
"Softly, softly, boys," said Bettle; " we don't want
to attack the army. Two or three of my own fellows
will be enough, I suppose," he added, addressing Clayton, "just to scour the field quietly."
Clayton nodded, and Bettle went on.
"Harry, you and Jem Woodward and Parker had
better try it. Can you disguise yourselves so as not
to be suspected?"
"I have a peddler's dress that my. own brother
wouldn't know me in," said Harry: "Woodward and
Parker, here, have nothing to do but take off their belts
and other traps, to pass for farmers."
" Very well," said Clayton: "the sooner you are off,
the better."
"No doubt of that," said Harry, going out at once,




232        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
while Woodward and Parker, by simply laying aside
their equipments, as Harry had suggested, were at
once transformed into two plain young farmers, such
as might have been drawn by curiosity to see a battlefield.
In a half-hour Harry reappeared. He had certainly
contrived to disguise himself pretty thoroughly; he
had on a pair of old leather breeches, polished by long
use, strong, ribbed woolen stockings, and heavy cowhide shoes; his head was surmounted by what had
been a cocked-hat, but of which the sides now hung
down around his face in such a manner as to shade it
considerably. He was ordinarily quite a good-looking
fellow in the face, and his form was more than usually
symmetrical; but now there was an awful squint in
the eyes, and a suspicious-looking redness on the nose;
the shoulders were drooped forward and the back was
bowed, as if with the long carrying of some kind of burden, which was now represented by the peddler's pack,
under which he shambled along with a knock-kneed,
lop-sided sort of gait that was certainly as far removed
from Harry's usual springy movement and firm tread
as anything that could possibly be imagined.
Clayton absolutely did- not recognize him until he
spoke.
"Thee has certainly disguised thyself very effectually," he then said; "but can thee maintain that
squint for any length of time?"
"Oh, yes," said Harry, laughing; "that's a trick
I learned at school. Do you think I'll pass muster?"
"No doubt of it: if I didn't know thee after a halfhour's absence, it is hardly likely thee will meet any




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            233
one who will recognize thee. What plan has thee in
contemplation?"
"Well, I want Woodward and Parker to keep with
me till we get near Germantown, and then my plan
is, to separate, they going over to the orchard to see
if he's there, while I go right into the camp with my
pack, and try if I' can find out anything among the soldiers. "
"That will do," said Clavton. "And now you had
better start."
The three men accordingly started on foot on their
perilous errand,- perilous, because any accidental
recognition on the part of the enemy would wind up
their adventure with an exceedingly short turn beneath the nearest tree that had a limb strong enough
to hang them on, as spies.
Arrived at the point intended by Harry, they separated, his two companions sauntering carelessly through
the village, and thence across -the meadows to the
orchard, gaping about them as they passed among the
sad scenes of devastation which a battle always leaves.
As they crossed the lawn in front of Chew's house,
they saw enough fearful evidences of how severe had
been the fight. Parties were already at work removing
the wounded; but they did not pause to look at them,
passing on across the lawn and past the house to the
orchard. A careful scrutiny among the bodies lying
there, however, failed to detect any one that resembled
the object of their search, and they finally left the place,
and, in accordance with Harry's parting suggestions,
returned by a roundabout way to where the Rangers
were posted.
Harry, in the mean time, shambled into the lines with
20*




234        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
his pack, and soon contrived to mingle with a group
of soldiers off duty, and to get into conversation with
them.
" Hello there I Linkum Lankum," said one of these,
"don't bring that'ere conk o' yourn nigh my catridgebox, or you'll blow it up. Look out there, Billy, he's
got his swivel eye on yourn!"
"Who keers if he is?" said Billy; "'tain't got
nothin' but a twist o' pigtail in it   "
" Which hain't?-the conk, or the eye, or the catridgebox? Blow me if I know which you mean."
"Doan't'ee be a chaffin' th' poor tramp," said
another, with a strong Devonshire accent; "coom
here, old chap, an' open thy pack an' let'n see what
thee's gotten."
" Here; just light my pipe first," said the first speaker,
thrusting a black "dudheen" against the red nose,
which certainly looked fiery enough for the purpose,
and attempting at the same time to take hold of it with
the other hand.
In an instant the wrist was seized, his heels flew
up, and he lay on the broad of his back, his position
being thus suddenly changed by a dexterous backward
trip which Harry gave him, without raising a hand
except to seize the fellow's wrist.
Furious with rage at his defeat, and the jeering
laughter of his companions, the soldier sprang to his
feet, and, drawing his bayonet from its sheath, rushed
at him with a savage oath.
Harry had, for the moment, forgotten his assumed
character when he tripped the fellow, and it was too
late now to mend the matter: he was in for it. However, instead of striking his assailant, he contented




THE Q UAKER PARTISA1NS.           235
himself with seizing his wrist as he made a blow at
him, saying, with well-affected dismay," Gentlemen, will you see a poor man murdered because he didn't want his nose pulled?"
"Dom'd if we wull," said Devonshire, a fellow as
stout and burly as one of his own county's shorthorned bulls, seizing his comrade by the shoulders;
"we waen't ha' no moor stickin' work to-day. Oi
toald'ee to let un aloan. If'ee mun foight, tak off
un's co-at an' go at un loike a mon, and not loike a
bluidy Frencher. I'll back th' tramp agin un for halfa-crow-an. "'
"A mill  a mill!" exclaimed the reckless soldiers, all
springing to their feet. "Form a ring."
The battle was short. Harry, not wishing to disfigure his opponent, and being anxious at the same
time to avoid attracting the attention of any of the
officers who might be near, brought it summarily to a
close, after parrying one or two passes, by a left-handed
blow on the fellow's chest which knocked the breath
out of his body, and the body itself clear out of the
ring.
" There I Oi toald'ee soa," said Devonshire. "When
thee's gotten thy wind agin, thee'd betther shake bonds
an' be doon wi' un."
"Fight done, with the first man floored.  That's
fair," said the others, assisting the discomfited soldier
to rise. " Shake hands with him, Jack, and don't bear
malice."
" I don't bear no malice," said the latter, as soon as
he had recovered breath enough to speak, " an' I hope
you don't," he added, extending his hand frankly
enough to Harry; "I had no business to chaff you at




236        THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
first, an' I don't want no more o' your left-handers,
thank'e; I'd as lief be kicked by a hoss. "
Harmony being restored, together with Harry's
squint, which he had dispensed with during the passage at arms, two straight eyes being none too many
in boxing, all sat down again, and examined the contents of the pack which was spread upon the ground,
while Harry endeavored, by cautious questions, to ascertain whether they knew anything of Frank.
Not making much progress in this way, he changed
his plan for a bolder one, and, describing Frank's apl
pearance accurately, inquired of his late opponent if he
had seen such a person since the battle.
" What do you want to know for?" asked the latter,
a little suspiciously.
"Why, you see," said Harry, confidentially, and
lying dreadfully, "I'm  sorry to say, though he's a
rebel, he's my brother; and this morning, when he
found there was to be a battle, what does he do but
saddle his gray mare and take father's short musket
an' ride off like mad afore we could stop him? I holloed after him he'd better not try fightin' his majesty's
troops that way, but he said he reckoned he could pick
up a sword an' pistols somewhere, and rode off, an' I
hain't seen him since."
" Do'e think un's kilt?" inquired Devonshire.
"I don't know," said Harry, dolefully; " I'm afeard
so; he's a dreadful obstropolous fellow when he gets
a fightin', an' I don't b'lieve he'd run away to save his
life. I wouldn't mind givin' a pound of pigtail I've
got in my pocket to any gentleman that would help
me to find out whether he's dead, or wounded, or only
took prisoner."




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             237
"Just wait here," said the man with whom he had
fought, who seemed to have conceived rather a liking
for him, "just wait here while I go over to the guardhouse an' see if he's among the prisoners. But staywhat shall I tell him if he's there?"
"Tell him his brother Harry's here from Wissahickon."
The soldier went to the guard-house, which was a
short distance off, being one of the houses in the village, which had been temporarily occupied for the purpose. In a few minutes he returned, and informed
Harry that his brother was there, sure enough a
prisoner, but alive and unhurt.
Could he see him?
Yes, the officer in command had given permission,
and he might come over at once.
Leaving his pack on the ground, Harry accompanied
his quondam adversary to the place, and among the
crowd of prisoners discovered Frank, leaning against
the wall near the fireplace.
"There he is," said he. "May I go and speak to
him?"
The soldier looked at the officer in charge, who
merely nodded; Harry immediately shambled across
the'room toward Frank, who, after a keen glance, advanced a step or two to meet him.
"Oh, Frank, Frank I" said Harry, in a tremulous
voice, throwing his arms around him, and bending his
head down on his shoulder, till he had mastered the
laughter with which he was almost bursting, "why
couldn't you stay at home, instead of comin' out to fight
against your lawful king?" And, overcome by his feelings, Harry hid his face again on Frank's neck, close




238        THE Q UAER PARTISANS.
to his ear, and whispered, rapidly, " Look out for us;
we'll be on the track."
It is hardly necessary to say that Frank had recognized his brother before this; and he merely gripped
the latter's arm strongly, in answer to the concluding
remark.
After a great many words of admonition and consolation, interspersed with a good deal of " Oh Frank"ing, and some pathetic allusions to his deserted father
and his gray hairs, to all which Frank listened and replied-when he could edge in a reply through the torrent of words-with as sober a face as Harry's own,
the latter took his departure, promising to come back
with some clothes and other matters.
Returning to where he had left his pack, he first
handed over the tobacco he had promised to his companion, and then drove a sharp bargain for some trinkets that had taken the fancy of two or three of the
men; which bargain came to a disastrous close, owing
to the fact that the price of the trinkets was two-andsixpence, while eleven pence ha'-penny was all that
could be raised by the group.
Harry would have distributed the trinkets among
them, had he not feared that such unprecedented liberality might raise suspicions either of his sanity or of
the truth of his assumed character.
Loading his pack, therefore, he bade them good-by,
and shambled off in the direction of the Wissahickon.




CHAPTER XX.
HARRY made the best of his way to the rendezvous,
and reported progress. HIe had been unable to ascertain when the army would remove to Philadelphia,
and the only'thing that could be done was to keep a
sharp lookout on their movements, and be ready to act
when the moment came.
Scouting-parties were sent out, which hovered
around the army continually for the next two weeks,
carefully avoiding observation, and refraining from
molesting any of the straggling parties which they
might easily have cut off.
Harry had gone back once after his first visit, with
some clothes for Frank. These had been inspected
before he was allowed to take them to him, to see that
nothing which might aid in his escape was concealed
in them. This did not trouble Harry in the least, as
he had prepared himself for it by very carefully putting nothing of the kind about them.
When they were restored to him, however, he made
an awkward grasp at them and let them fall upon the
ground. While gathering them up he contrived, unperceived, to slip a short, broad dagger into one of the
pockets, and then handed them to Frank.
On the evening of the 18th, Clayton's scouts brought
in word that the army was about to move the next
morning. The whole force, consisting of his own
( 239 )




240        THIE QUAKER PARTISANS.
and McLane's men, was put in motion toward Germantown, about an hour before daybreak. They did
not go near the village, however, but posted themselves in a wood along the road between it and Philadelphia. Patiently they waited there for five mortal
hours, receiving occasional information from their
scouts of the preparations of the army for departure.
At last the head of the column appeared in sight, and
the Rangers retired deeper into the wood, leaving Jem
Woodward, and one or two others of the most active
men, perched in some thick trees a short distance from
the roadside as lookouts. Column after column passed,
regiment after regiment, in interminable succession, as
Clayton could see from his concealment, and still no
signal from the lookouts.
Still the army filed along, until the rear of the last
column had passed out of view, and still no signal. A
moment afterward, however, Woodward slid down his
tree, and, going to Clayton, told him that the prisoners
were coming down the road some distance in the rear
of the main army, under a strong escort.
"How many?" asked Clayton.
"Not less than three hundred, I should think," said
Woodward.
"We can break that number by an unexpected
attack," said Clayton, calmly, "if we know where to
attack them.  Could thee recognize Frank among
them?"
"No," said Woodward, "they were too ftr off; but
I could see that they are in two bodies, one in front,
and the other in the rear, with the prisoners between
them; there is a file of light horsemen on each flank of
the prisoners, besides."




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.           241
While this conversation was going on, the escort
were coming down the road slowly, and, though certainly not in disorder, still, somewhat loosely, and what
Woodward called "squandery.'"  The prisoners were
inclosed as he had said, and were marching along in a
confused crowd, without much regard to order.
Harry had gone over in the morning, in his peddler's costume, but minus his pack, to accompany his
"unfortunate brother" to the city, and the two were
together in the crowd. As they came near the wood,
where Harry knew their friends were concealed, the
two men gradually, without attracting attention, placed
themselves on the edge of the body of prisoners and
close to the file of horsemen, on the side next the
wood.
The road was bordered by a tall, thick hedge, which
ran along to the corner of the wood; at about forty'
yards from this point there was a small gap in the
lower part of the hedge, barely large enough to allow
a man to pass through at the risk of a little scratching.
As they came opposite this, Frank, whose keen eye
had noticed this, aid whose ready wit formed his plan
on the instant, edged as close as possible to the horse
by which he was walking, stumbled, and fell upon his
hands directly in front of the beast; so close, that his
rider, to keep him from tumbling over Frank, drew him
up with a violence that threw him upon his haunches.
At the same instant, without rising, Frank leaped forward from all fours like a cat, pitched headforemost
right through the gap, and then, springing to his feet,
ran at full speed, sheltered by the hedge, for the wood.
Two or three pistols were fired after him at random,
and several horsemen made a rush at the hedge, but
21




242        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
were recalled by a sharp, stern order from the officer:
"Close up, there! close up I Look to the other prisoners;" and then, riding up to Harry, was beginning,
wrathfully, "What does this mean, sir? Is this any
of your-" when the appearance of the latter's faceone eye looking at the gap through which Frank had
disappeared so unceremoniously, and the other looking
at himself, the under jaw dropped, and the whole countenance divested of every expression but that of blank
amazement-checked him, and, muttering, "He had
no hand in it," he spurred forward to the head of the
column, and detached a party in pursuit.
These galloped along the road toward the wood, in
order to get around the hedge, and disappeared. Then
came a crackle of rifle-shots, a sudden check in the
regular beat of hoofs, and then four riderless horses
came tearing down the road with dangling reins and
flying stirrups, followed by a mounted horse whose
rider, holding a rein in each hand, as if to steady himself, was reeling and swaying in the saddle like a
drunken man. As the horse came to the ranks, he was
stopped, and his rider, with a last effort to preserve
his balance, dropped his chin upon his breast and
lurched heavily out of the saddle into the arms of two
or three of the men who started forward.to catch him.
They laid him on a sloping bank on the opposite side
of the road from that where Frank had escaped,
beneath a large chestnut-tree; but he was evidently
dying
" How did it happen, Hudson?" inquired the officer,
coming up and stooping over him.
" They've-hit —me-sir," said the man, gasping out
a word at a time.




THE QUAKER PIARTISAN2S.          243
" Who?"
"The-rebels-sir.-Woods —full of"  They were
his last words.
"Rebels I In the woods I  There's treachery here.
Where's that peddler? Secure him, some of you; I'll
have some talk with him after awhile."
The officer then hurried to the head of his men, and
the advance pushed rapidly forward toward the corner
of the wood. They turned the end of the hedge, and
penetrated some distance into the wood, but met nobody
except the remnant of the party that had pursued
Frank; the Rangers, after the single volley from the
Mac Allan rifles, having fallen back, lest the report
should draw the' army upon them.
" Where are the rebels?" said the officer.
"Back yonder, sir, in the woods," said the man who
was addressed; "they're too strong for us, without a
reinforcement. "
"Well, here comes one," said the officer, as a regiment came down the road at quick step and halted at
the edge of the wood.
"One of our prisoners escaped just now, sir," he
said, speaking to the colonel of the regiment, " and the
men sent to retake him have been fired on by a party
of the rebels who are somewhere in the wood here."
" We must let him go, sir," said the colonel: " it will
be useless to attempt to catch these flying Irregulars,
of whom the force must consist, while in the woods.
How strong do you take them to be?"
"About two hundred, sir," said the trooperwho had
previously been speaking, in answer to a look from his
officer.
"Rather strong for your force, hampered with pris



244        TIlE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
oners. Close up your men, and I will remain with
you until we reach Philadelphia."
The officer bowed, and, having formed his men in
their original order, the whole body proceeded together along the road. When the order was given to
secure Harry, he was placed on horseback, under the
charge of two troopers, one of whom was our friend
Devonshire, with orders that he should be instantly
shot or cut down should he attempt to escape.
Harry submitted very meekly, and with as injured a
look as he could assume without disturbing the usual
engaging expression of his countenance. Scrambling
awkwardly into the saddle, where it was a sight to see
him with his round back, his loose-looking legs with
feet thrust into the stirrups to the ankles, each hand,
with the palm upward, grasping with the thumb and
finger a rein, which hung dangling, jolting up and
down with the motion of the horse as he moved along,
he took his place between Devonshire and his companion, the latter being on the side of the road next the
hedge.
"Don't you think it's hard, mister," said Harry,
addressing Devonshire in a low voice, "to make me,
a loyal subject, prisoner, just'cause my rebel brother
contrived to get away?"
"Whoy, yea," said Devonshire, "it doan't seem'zactly right,'case oi saw un all th' toim and oi doant
think'ee had nowt to do wi' un; but oi baent meanin'
to let un git off for a' that; Doant think there's much
danger, though, the way'ee roides-tak care, there!
thee'll surely toomble off and brek thy neck," seizing
Harry's arm as he manifested symptoms of slipping
helplessly off sideways, and pulling him straight in
the saddle.




TIlE Q UAKER PARTISA NS.         245
All the while Harry had been trying to judge by
the feel of the horse beneath him-by his step and
motion-of his capacity for a race, and had satisfied
himself that he had both strength and speed.
Deceived by his slovenly, awkward manner of riding, and feeling sure that the first motion of his horse
out of a slow trot would dismount him, they had neglected to secure him in any other way than that of
merely placing him between them. He rode along dismally enough, bumping up and down with the slow
but springy trot of the horse, till they came opposite
the wood, which, I should have said before, was not
fenced in, but lay open to the road, with a -cart-way
running into it.
Suddenly Devonshire's horse-perhaps moved thereunto by the instigation of a chestnut-burr which Harry
had contrived slyly to place under the crupper of his
saddle, in one of his own awkward lurches-first sent
his heels into the air, and then went off into an exhibition of rearing and plunging, complicated with a network, so to speak, of fantastic capers, which not only
gave our stout friend enough to do to keep his seat at
all, but, by the infection which bad example is pretty
sure to spread, set half the horses in his neighborhood
capering also from sympathy.
Having thus.cleverly got rid of Devonshire and
drawn off the attention of the rest, Harry took his
next step, which was to wheel his own horse suddenly, draw a short dirk, and, by a touch of its point
in the flank, drive him with a spring full against the
horse of the trooper who remained beside him, at the
same time giving the man a blow with his fist which
drove him bodily out of the saddle; for Harry, reck21*




246        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
less as he was, rarely shed blood unless he thought it
necessary, and therefore did not use his dirk.
Down went the horse, and away went his rider two
or three yards from him, before the shock and the powerful blow; and, as the latter opened his eyes again, the
first thing he saw was a horse's belly, as Harry's beast
leaped clear over fallen horse and rider together. As
he raised his head, he heard a voice exclaim,"By —, it's that peddler rascall Fire at him!
bring him down!"
A rattle of musketry followed, and, as the fallen
trooper raised himself on his elbow,-he was too prudent to stand up right in the line of fire, —he thought
at first that the fugitive had been hit; for he was
hanging by the side of his horse, with one leg over
the saddle and one arm over his neck, while the beast
was Eying down the cart-road.
"After him, men  after him I" shouted the officer.
" Five guineas to the man that brings him in, alive or
dead i"
Twenty or thirty of the best-mounted troopers instantly dashed into the wood in pursuit. As soon as
Harry perceived that he had them between him and
the fire of the infantry, to the astonishment of his pursuers, he swung himself up in his seat again, without
checking his horse's speed, waved his hand to them,
exclaiming, " Good-by, gentlemen: I'm going to see if
I can persuade my brother back," gave his horse another prick with the dirk (having no spurs), darted off
the road into the thickest part of the wood, and was
out of sight among the trees and bushes in a moment.
They did not follow him any farther; it was too
evidently useless,-besides the danger of falling into




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            247
an ambuscade of his friends, who, they felt very well
assured, were not far off.
They accordingly returned to the main road, and reported how they had lost him.
"Those are no' common men," said the officer in
command of the escort. "Does any one know them?"
"Please your honor," said an old soldier, advancing and touching his cap, "I think I know'em. The
dark little chap, the one as got away first, that's Frank
Lightfoot his name is, was a wagon-boy in the army
when we was cut up by the Frenchers an' Injins out
there at Great Meadows, by Fort Duquesne; he's now
among Clayton's Rangers, an' one o' the best men in
the troop."
"Well, who is the other?"
" If I'm not mistaken, it's the only other one that's
equal to him. They call him Dandy Harry."
"Why didn't you tell this before?" said the officer,
angrily.
" Your honor didn't ask me anything about it, an'
it wasn't my place to push in my advice when it wasn't
asked. Besides, Frank was a prisoner anyhow, and I
didn't mistrust Harry till I seen him knock Wilson
yonder and his horse, both down, an' ride over'em."
"Well, we're a sharp-sighted set," said the officer.
"I wonder who'll make fools of us next time. Close
up, forward, march I" And so the army went to Philadelphia, minus two of its prisoners.




CHAPTER XXI.
"How did they take thee?" inquired Clayton of
Frank, as they rode quietly toward their rendezvous.
"Why, look'e here," said Frank;'I got mixed up
with our prisoners when them fellows run through us
there in Germantown. You know they got squandered
away, an' blamed if they didn't carry me off right in
the middle of'em. I tried my best to. git out o' the
muss, but couldn't, for they were all round me, an'
some of'em, I found, know'd me, an' kep' too sharp
an eye on me to give me any chance. Then we come
up with a ridg'ment, an' they fell in with it, an' I had
to give it up."
Frank was a man of few words, and this was all the
account he gave of his adventure.
Harry, however, made amends at the camp-fire that
night, by giving a full and ludicrous account of his own
and Frank's adventures in the British camp, and wound
up by a descriptive ballad which he improvised for the
occasion: it was never reduced to writing, and therefore I am unable to give it.
The season passed on without anything of note
having taken place in which the Rangers were immediately concerned.
Count Donop, with twelve hundred picked Hessians, had attacked the American defenses, garrisoned
by four hundred men, at Red Bank, in pursuance of
General Howe's determination to sweep away the
( 248 )




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.            249
whole of the American defenses on the river, and had
sacrificed his own life and that of some four hundred
of his men in the vain attempt.
The men-of-war had thundered away at Fort Mifflin,
on the opposite side of the river, to no purpose, having
achieved nothing but the loss of a number of men and
of two ships, the Augusta and Merlin, which took fire
and blew up.
The attack had been renewed, the garrisons compelled to abandon their defenses by the overwhelming
force which was sent against them, and the river below the city, to the ocean, was in command of the
enemy.
Lydia Darrah, the brave Quaker woman, had saved
the American army from surprise and defeat, by her
walk through the snow to Whitemarsh to give notice
of the intended attack.
The British had marched out in the dead of the succeeding night, very slyly indeed, reached Whitemarsh
unperceived, and-found the army drawn up, cannon
mounted, and all so prepared to receive them that,
after dancing distractedly around them for three days,
on the fourth they scampered back, as one of their officers expressed it, " like a parcel of fools."
It is a sight to be remembered, by us who can call
it up in vision, that small, weak, sickly figure, clad in
plain Quaker garb, urging its solitary way on foot
through the cold December dawn, ankle-deep in the
falling snow, to save an army from destruction.
That woman walked, altogether, twenty-eight miles
in the dismal weather, on that day, carrying with her,
over the last five miles, from Frankford, a bag containing twenty-five pounds of flour, the necessity of




250        THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
procuring which had been her excuse for leaving the
city; and General Howe had furnished her with a pass I
I rather think it was Lydia who "made fools of us
next time."
Then there was a lull in the storm of war; the two
great clouds had rolled asunder, and lay grumbling
and growling at each other twenty miles apart, one
along the hills of the Schuylkill at Valley Forge, the
other along the shores of the Delaware at Philadelphia.
But the British, as I said before, had not a time of
uninterrupted comfort jn Philadelphia, by reason of
the very improper and unseasonable restlessness of the
two bodies of Irregulars who had taken upon themselves to beleaguer the city.
They caused so much annoyance by intercepting
supplies, cutting off foraging-parties, and playing all
manner of mad pranks generally, that the British commander got out of all patience, and at last detached
Captain Gardner, with a considerable force, to scour
the country and drive these pestilent marauders away.
The captain had no trouble in fulfilling his instructions to the letter; not the least: the only difficulty
was that the "marauders" did not stay away, not
seeming to understand that they were defeated. In
fact, they led him as uneasy a dance among the rocks
and hills of the Schuylkill and Wissahickon as David
led King Saul over the mountains of Judea.
He would hear of them somewhere, and sally forth
to capture or disperse them; when he arrived at the
place, behold, they were gone  By the time he had
got comfortably over the fatigue of his march, word
would come that they were up again in some other




TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.          251
quarter, and away he would go, Only to come back
again with the same report,-" left the place." Now it
was Clayton's Rangers who were at work, now it was
McLane's men, now the two together, now both up at
once in different places, till both the general and the
captain were half distracted by the ceaseless activity
of this intangible swarm of hornets.
It was an easy enough matter for both Clayton and
Captain McLane to avoid these scouring-parties when
they chose, having always timely notice given by their
scouts of any movement against them.
They did not always choose to escape, however; and
two or three sharp skirmishes among broken ground
and trees, and from which he was obliged to retreat
with some loss, convinced Captain Gardner not only
that the Rangers understood their own way of fighting
better than he did, but that he was likely to have his
hands full at any kind of fighting. He learned to appreciate better the various and thorough training of
Clayton's force particularly.
The duty he was engaged in, so far as the Rangers
were concerned, was irksome to him, besides, from personal reasons. His life had been spared, by Barton's
forbearance, at the spring below New Castle, under circumstances which would have warranted him in taking
it; he had been treated with the utmost kindness while
among the Rangers, during the few days he remained
among them, had formed a very pleasant acquaintance
with the officers, and had been released upon his parole
after a very short detention. More recently, he had
been treated with rare courtesy and consideration by
Clayton, who, as has been stated, allowed him to pass
with a much inferior force, when he might have captured him with ease.




252        TIE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
Ou these accounts, the service he was performing
was very unpleasant to him, and he had made two or
three ineffectual attempts to be relieved from it and
have some other officer employed in his place.
While the Irregulars on the one side, and the Regulars on the other, were leading each other this kind of
contra-dance, the female department of the Free Quaker church were not idle; and their activity found vent
-as I suppose that of most women who have not discovered that they have a " mission" does, naturally-in
needles and thread.
On a crisp, clear afternoon in January, a party of
them were assembled in the large parlor of a house on
the west side of Water Street. The room looked out
over an open lawn to the river; for the unsightly
warehouses which now lumber the bank were not then
in existence, and the view was unobstructed, except by
the trunks of two or three large and now leafless trees
which stood upon the lawn.  Before it spread the
noble river, its broad bosom sheeted with ice, bound in
which lay the black hulls of the men-of-war, and
beyond lay the low, beach-like Jersey shore, rising
gradually to the northward into rolling ground as it
receded from the water.
The wind was high, and the leafless trees rocked
and groaned and rattled their bare arms together in
the blast which came shrieking from the distant ocean,.
through the moaning pines of mid-Jersey and across
the frozen surface of the river. It was cold, bitter cold,
and the streets were almost deserted. The Hessian
sentry, with his musket clasped to his side by his arm,
blew his aching fingers through his ice-fringed mustache, as he paced up and down his beat, stamping




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             253
along as if trying what kind of sewing his Majesty's
contract-shoemakers had put into his brogans. The
woodsawyer stopped as the last section of each stick
fell from his saw-horse, and thrashed his arms across
his breast, with a "whew I" at each blow of his heavy
arms, as if it had knocked the breath out of him. Their
noses, as well as those of the few passengers who were
in the street, were each ornamented by a pendent jewel
at the end thereof, which hung there undisturbed, for
it was too cold to think of taking hands out of pockets
to use either handkerchiefs or fingers. Here and there
was a poor, thinly-clad, shivering form, stealing along
in search of chips to make a scanty fire for other poor
squalid little forms to cower over; for firewood was
scarce, even for those who had means to buy it, and
but little was left to be gleaned by those who had
not.
While all was thus bleak and dreary outside, the
scene within the large room in which the women were
assembled was bright and cheerful. True, the walls,
instead of being covered with the wonderful specimens
of machine-produced art with which paper-hangers so
liberally cover walls nowadays, were painted a sober
drab, and the ceiling was not as high by a couple of
feet as we think it necessary to have them now; but
the floor was carpeted, in itself an evidence of some
wealth, and a bright wood-fire, plentifully supplied,
was burning in the large Franklin stove, whose brass
mountings and those of the fender in front of it shone
with all the luster which powdered brick-dust and
flannel, applied with all the vigor of a sturdy housemaid's arm, could produce. In front of the fender was
spread a large bear-skin rug, on which lay a plump
22




254        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
gray-mottled cat, evidently a privileged pet, basking
in the heat of the fire, and purring dreamily.
In short, the gathering was what is now called a
"sewing-circle," at which, as is well known, there. is
always, nowadays, an immense amount of work done,
with a very small amount of talk and tea-drinking.
The party with whom I have to do at present were
not working, however, for the natives of Booriobboola
Gha; neither were they making flannel shirts to keep
warm the other sans-culottes gentlemen in Africa, who
eschew all clothing except a breech-cloth and a general smearing over with rancid cocoanut oil; nor were
they working for the Greeks, nor for anybody else out
of sight and hearing across the ocean; for, as the
splenetic John Randolph once told a lady who was
commiserating the sufferings of the Greeks during their
revolution, and lamenting that she was not among
them to relieve them, "Madam, the Greeks are at
your door."
There was suffering enough within twenty miles, in
the rude slab huts imbedded in the snow among the
hills of Valley Forge, to absorb all the spare sympathy,
as well as the spare time and money, of any given number of philanthropists; and it was to do what they
could toward relieving this suffering that they were
met together on this clear, crisp January afternoon.
There was a sprinkling of the gayer dresses of the
" world's people" among the party; but most of them
wore the unmistakable, plain garb of the Friends.
Across one end of the room was spread a quiltingframe, on which was stretched a quilt about half finished; around it were about a dozen elderly ladies, who
were busily stitching along the white chalk-lines with




THE QUAKER PARITISANS.            255
which its surface was latticed. These were all stout,
comfortable, grandmotherly-looking dames, ranging
from fifty to sixty, well preserved, with complexions
still fresh and ruddy, and some of them hardly more
wrinkled than their granddaughters.
Around a circular table which stood about the middle of the room, in front of the fireplace, was another
group, of younger ladies, some of them the daughters
of those around the quilting-frame, and employed quite
as industriously as their mothers, in cutting out and
sewing strong coarse cotton shirts, and-some of the
older ones —knitting heavy woolen stockings.
At the other end were four or five girls, of perhaps
from sixteen to twenty years of age, seated on the carpet, around a flag which they had just finished embroidering and had spread out upon the carpet to admire.
It was not large, being only about two feet square,
but large enough for the purpose it was intended for,
-a cavalry pennon.
It was not a very unusual employment for a party
of ladies in those days; but in the present instance there
was a curious contrast between that battle-flag, with
its deep-blue ground and border of crimson silk and
gold, and the plain dresses of the girls around it, from
which every warm or bright color, every appearance
or suggestion of ornament, had been studiously banished.
If the dresses were plain, however, the faces above
them were not; for young Quakeresses then were as
pretty as young Quakeresses are now; and no ungracefulness of dress or soberness of color can entirely
neutralize the beauty of the delicate, regular features,
the smooth, glossy hair, and the fresh complexions



256        THIE QUAKER PAR TISAS~S.
when their bonnets are off. I have not a word to say
in mitigation of the " regulation" Quaker bonnet, which
would eclipse the face of-I won't say Venus, for I
consider it an insult to a modest woman to liken her
to that Queen Light-o'-love, but of-well, say-iHebe.
"Isn't it beautiful, Mary?" said one of them, addressing a girl of about twenty, who sat opposite her}
a tall, slender, queenly-looking blonde. " I wish Captain Clayton was here to see it. What does thee intend
to say when thee gives it to him? Thee must make
a speech, and he must make another in answer."
"I'm  afraid," interposed one of the ladies at the
table,'; that it won't be so beautiful after it has been
carried a year, and gone through the battles of that
time, daughter Sarah. Gunpowder, smoke, and bullets
make sad work with fine clothes."
"Well, I hope it won't get spoiled; don't thee,
Mary?" said Sarah.
"' No; I hope to see it come home riddled with bulletholes," said Mary, spiritedly.
"MercyI" said the younger girl, raising her hands
in affected horror, " and spoil all our beautiful work I
I hope it won't be Sam that carries it, for fear he
might come home riddled too -"
"Sarah-Sarah Wheeler I" said one of the elderly
ladies at the quilt, who overheard her, "thee should
not jest on such grave subjects. If thy brother should
be brought home wounded or dead, thee would never
forgive thyself for this trifling."
The girl colored under the rebuke, and said no more.
She was a sister of Wheeler, whom I have mentioned
several times; while the queenly-looking blonde was
the only sister of Wetherill, and the only-something




TILE QUAKER PARTISANS.           257
else, which brought the rich blood over her transparent face and neck when his name was mentioned-of
Clayton.
I am a terribly poor hand at describing love-passages, and, having Bettle's affair on my hands, I have
spared myself and you the bore of following a second
trail of this kind, step by step. In this instance, therefore, I will only give results.
Clayton and Mary Wetherill had been "engaged"
since about a month before the flare-up in the Society
to which they both belonged, and she was naturally
one of the first of his friends whom he had consulted
previous to taking the important step which had so
changed the current of his life.
Some of these friends had given him their opinion in
a way that was as non-committal as a judge's charge,
and which might be taken either way; some had fairly
turned their backs upon him; but Mary Wetherill
never faltered.
"Thee is right, Ellis," she said, promptly, when he
mentioned his "concern" to her; " thee is right. If it
is the duty of Friends to side in opinion with the Congress and the army, it is their duty to side with them
in person too. He has no right to assist by counsel
who is not ready and willing to assist with the sword."
" I knew thee would think so, Mary," said Clayton,
"but I wanted to hear it from thy own lips. My own
convictions of duty in this matter are clear and decided;
and I shall carry them out with all the vigor of body
and soul which my Maker has given me."
So they parted for the time. Clayton set to work,
as I stated in the beginning of my narrative, to raise
his troop, succeeding as I have already stated.
22*




258       THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
She had parted with him again on the morning of
the 4th of August, an hour or two before he wheeled
into the line of the American army opposite the StateHouse, at the head of his troop, and from that time
had never seen him, nor, but once, heard directly from
him, though she had heard a good deal of him in the
flying rumors which chased each other ceaselessly
through that busy summer and autumn.
Her love for Clayton was fully as deep and strong
as Jenny Sanford's was for Bettle, but it was as different as her nature was. Strong and self-reliant, her
husband must be one by whose side she could stand
like a palm-tree by its mate; to whom she could be
counselor, companion, friend.
Jenny's nature was very different from this. Though
about the same age as Mary, she was much younger
in character. She was child-like, more frank and impulsive, without a touch of the pride which was a predominant trait in Mary's character, plain Quaker
though she was; entirely free from anything like
queenly dignity and reserve, but simply a tender, warmhearted, lovable girl, who would cling to the man she
loved, as the ivy clings to the strong tower, enveloping
it gradually in its warm, ever-growing mantle.
When the storm should sweep down the palm-tree,
his mate would stand and wave her plumed head over
him in grand, majestic grief. When the earthquake
should hurl down the tower, the ivy would go down
with him and-die.
Such was the difference between the two girls. The
idea of the flag had been first suggested by Sarah
Wheeler, and had been seized upon with avidity by the
other girls, and they had for some time been busily




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            259
engaged at it. It was now finished, and the next thing
was to present it.
This was not such an easy matter, inasmuch as
they, the donors, were cooped up in the city, without
much chance of getting out, even if any of them had
known where to look for the donees in their eccentric
wanderings.
"Now, won't it be too bad," said Sarah Wheeler,
"if, after all the trouble we've had, we can't catch one
of these Jack-o'-lanterns of Rangers to hand it to? This
would be such a nice time, when we are all here, to
give it to Captain Clayton.
"Thee should say Ellis; not captain, Sarah," said
her mother, reprovingly. " I wish thee would get out
of that way thee has of giving vain titles."
"Why, mother," interrupted Sarah, " he is a captain, isn't he?  And why shouldn't I call him so?
Didn't we call James Pemberton clerk of the meeting,
because he was clerk? Aud why shouldn't we call Ellis
Clayton captain of the Rangers, when he is captain? I
don't see that one is a vain title more than the other."
What answer her mother would have made to this
style of argument, it is hard to say; for at this moment
the door opened, and in walked the subject of the discussion, accompanied by Harry.
" Why, here's the man himself," said Sarah Wheeler,
joyfully, springing forward, and seizing him by the
hand. "Come in, thou man of peace: we were just
talking about thee."
"Thee is welcome, friend Ellis," said the mistress of
the house, coming for yard. " Come near the fire, thee
and thy friend: you must be cold this bitter day."
Clayton and his companion drew near the fire with




260        TIIE QUAKE?.PARTISANS.
manifest enjoyment of its heat, while Mary placed herself by his side, having been the second —Sarah
Wheeler having sprung forward ahead of her-to greet
him. She did this pleasantly, even warmly, but still
with an indescribable something of dignified reticence
strongly in contrast with the frank, open demonstration
of delight which Sarah had shown. Considering how
long they had been separated, any one not knowing
the actual circumstances would have reversed the
real position of the two girls toward him.
There was no lack of feeling on Mary's part, as Clayton knew right well; but that dominant pride of hers
kept down any manifestation of it in the presence of
others. He himself was no more demonstrative than
she, though feeling quite as deeply; but with him it
was the effect of a grave, impassive temperament, to
which a demonstrative display of any kind would have
been unnatural, rather than of any effort of pride to
keep it down. On the whole, they were admirably
suited to each other.
" But what brought thee here among the Philistines,
Captain Clayton?" said Sarah, with a slight emphasis
on the word captain and a sly glance at her mother.
"Ain't thee afraid they'll catch thee and serve thee as
their ancestors did Samson? If thee could only pull
down the walls of that temple of Dagon, the Walnut
Street Prison, and bury its. high-priest Cunningham
in the ruins, it might be    "
" Sarah, Sarah!" interposed her mother, holding up
her finger reprovingly.
" I can't help it, mother," said she: "when I think
of the way our poor prisoners are treated there, I get
out of all patience, and only wish I were a man, to
punish the villain."




TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.            261
"Well," said her mother, " there's no use in trying
to bridle thy tongue. I believe thee's incorrigible."
" My errand here to-day," said Clayton, "had reference to the very place thee speaks of. Three of my own
men were taken prisoners in that unfortunate affair at
Germantown, and I came in to gain some tidings of
them. "
"Did thee succeed, Ellis?" said Mary.
"Only too well, Mary. They are dead,-literally
starved to death. May God forgive their murderer as
I try to do, and show him more mercy than he ever
showed to any who were in his power I"
"I suppose we ought all to say the same thing,"
said Sarah; "but I must say I don't feel exactly clear
in my own mind about it. How does thee feel?" she
added, suddenly turning to Harry. "Does thee try to
forgive him, too?"
"Oh, no," said Harry, quietly, in his soft, musical
voice, and shaking his head gently: "I don't forgive
him; and I'm afraid he'll need a great deal of mercy if
he ever falls into the hands of our men or Captain
McLane's. "
"What would they do with him?" inquired one of
the elderly ladies at the quilting-frame.
"Hang him," said Harry, placidly.
"Hang him, eh?" said a voice, as the door swung
open, and three or four men in British uniform, with
an officer at their head, strode into the room. "Then
we had better get two of the hangmen out of the way.
Madam," added the officer, addressing the mistress of
the house, " I beg your pardon for this intrusion, but
I am sent to apprehend a desperate rebel who is here
in disguise. Captain Clayton, you and your companion are my prisoners."




CHAPTER XXII.
THE door remained opened, no one, in the general
consternation caused by this announcement, having
thought of shutting it, and the four soldiers stood
abreast, between it and the two Rangers, with muskets
presented and fixed bayonets.
"You had better surrender quietly, gentlemen; resistance will only involve bloodshed, which I would
much rather spare these ladies the sight of."
Clayton had calmly folded his arms while the other
was speaking, and stood, with Mary close beside him,
looking him straight in the eyes, with perfect calmness
and self-possession.
The last word was on the officer's lips, when Harry
suddenly, without the slightest warning, sprang, with
a leap like a panther's, right over the bayonet of one
of the soldiers, driving his heels against the fellow's
breast with tremendous force and felling him like an
ox, and was through the door and out of sight before
the others fully comprehended what had happened.
The officer uttered a sudden exclamation, rather
more terse and emphatic than he was in the habit of
using before ladies, while his men, recovering from
their momentary astonishment, rushed through the
door, without waiting for orders, in the blind instinct
of pursuit.
At the same instant, while the officer's attention was
diverted, Clayton drew a pistol from his bosom, cocked
(262)




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            263
it, and, laying his hand with a quiet but firm gripe
upon the officer's shoulder, held the muzzle within an
inch of his face, and said, in that'calm, grave tone of
his that nothing ever disturbed,"Thee labors under a mistake in calling me thy
prisoner: I have no intention of being any one's prisoner. I don't wish to have bloodshed here, any more
than thee does; and thee will therefore see the wisdom
of requiring thy men to behave civilly and molest no
one here. Leave thy sword where it is," he added, as
the officer made an attempt to seize the handle: "if
thee attempts to draw it or move away, or if thy men"
-who had now returned —"come beyond' the door,
thee will be carried home. Order them to halt."
The officer did so, perforce, and the men stopped
just within the door, while Clayton went on in the
same cool, unimpassioned tone:
"Did thee suppose I was weak enough to thrust my
head into the lion's jaws without having the means
at hand of breaking his teeth if he attempted to close
them?"
"Indeed I" said the officer; "and pray, sir, what
means may you have of breaking the lion's teeth, as
you phrase it?"
"I will show thee," said Clayton, giving a low
whistle.  It was answered immediately from  the
grounds in the rear of the house, and the next moment
the tramp of feet was heard in the hall, and then twenty
of the Rangers, with Frank and Harry among them,
armed to the teeth, poured into the parlor.
"Thee sees," said Clayton. "Now order thy men to
lay down their arms. If they stir for anything else,
they are dead men."




264        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
The officer stood silent. It was quite an impressive
tableau. He and Clayton stood in their original position, about the middle of the room, the latter's hand
still upon his shoulder, and the cocked pistol, which
had never wavered for a moment, still poking its muzzle within an inch or two of his face; the Rangers,
who had stationed themselves between the two men
and the soldiers, who remained by the door, stood there
with pistol in each hand, holding -the soldiers covered
by the leveled pistols, and almost touching the bayonets of the "presented" muskets of the latter as they
stood stolidly waiting for orders; the women, with the
exception of Mary Wetherill and Sarah Wheeler, who
kept their position near Clayton, were huddled in the
corners, with their hands to their ears, waiting in terror
for the explosion, which they thought, of course, was
coming; while the gray-mottled cat, startled from her
doze before the fire by the fall of the soldier whom
Harry had kicked over, still stood upon the rug, with
her back and tail arched, spitting and swearing in
feline language furiously.
"Thee sees the odds against thee," said Clayton.
"Yes," said the officer, through his clinched teeth,
"I see. I surrender, sir. Order arms"-to his men,
who obeyed the order with pardonable alacrity  " If it
hadn't been for the mountebank trick of your follower
there," he added, glancing wrathfully at Harry, "there
might have been a different tale."
"Possibly," said Clayton; "but thee sees thee was
mistaken in calling us prisoners. Now, I don't wish to
be harsh with thee, and if thee will promise me upon
thy honor that this family shall receive no further
molestation, after we leave, I will release thee and thy
men as soon as we are clear of the city"




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.           265
"I'll promise that very willingly," said the officer;
"though I had no intention of molesting them at any
rate."
They now prepared to take their departure. In the
mean time, Sarah Wheeler had been nudging and
making faces at Mary, and pointing to the flag, which
still lay upon the floor; but the latter shook her head.
"Well," said Sarah, at last, "if thee won't, I will;"
and, picking it up, she advanced with it toward Clayton, and handed it to him, saying, " Now that thy little
affair with these friends is satisfactorily settled, I'll tell
thee why we wanted to see thee. We want thee to
take this piece of' fine clothes,' as mother there calls it,
to be the standard of thy troop, never to be lost, never
to be given up, except to those who made it."
Clayton took the flag, and was about to reply, when
she cut him short:
" There, now! thee needn't make a speech about it;
we know by heart what it would be proper to say."
"Very well," said Clayton; "but will thee allow me
to give it in charge to my standard-bearer now?"
" By all means," said she. "Who is he?"
" Here he stands," said Clayton, handing the flag
to Harrv.
"Thee will never disgrace it, I know," said Sarah,
turning to Harry with a bright smile and a glance
which brought the blood to his cheek, cool young gentleman as he was.
" I may die with it in my hand; it shall never leave
me in any other way," said he, briefly, folding it up
and placing it in his bosom.
At this moment Frank, who, with his habitual caution, had been keeping a sharp lookout on the river
23




266        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
through the front windows, paying very little attention to this exceedingly informal flag-presentation, came
up to Clayton, and whispered in his ear,"Marines puttin' off from one o' th' ships. Be quick."
Clayton instantly put his men in motion, gave a single pressure of Mary's hand, placed his prisoners in
front, and in another moment the whole party had
passed out at the back of the house, leaving the inmates in the utmost surprise at their sudden departure.
When fairly out, he stopped, and said to the Englishman, -
"There is a party of marines coming from one of
the ships toward the house. We can fight them if
necessary, but I don't want to fight here; we can
escape and carry thee and thy men with us without
difficulty; but I don't wish to leave the women alone
to meet those who are coming. Will thee promise,
as an officer and a gentleman, that thee will remain here
till they come, and prevent any annoyance or insult
to those in the house, if I release thee now?"
The officer hesitated a moment.
" If not," said Clayton, calmly, "we will remain and
fight it out; but thee and all thy men will be the first
victims, whoever else may fall. My object is to avoid
strife and bloodshed here; thee may send them after
us if thee chooses, and they may take us, if they can.
There is no time to lose."
"I promised" said the officer, " with that understanding. Those in the house shall not be molested; but I
shall lead the marines directly after you, I tell you
candidly."
"Thee is at liberty," said Clayton; and;leaving them
to return into the house, he moved rapidly with his




TIlE QUAKER PARTISAYS.            267
men across the grounds which opened upon Front
Street, passed into the street, crossed it, passed through
an alley which led off from it, thence through another
and another, zigzagging along until they reached. the
edge of Dock Creek, where he found the rest of the
troop waiting impatiently for them, having become
alarmed by their delay.
The bitter cold of the weather, as I said before, had
almost emptied the streets of passengers; and, having
nothing unusual about their dress, their arms being all
carefully hidden beneath their coats, the Rangers had
attracted very little attention from the few they met.
Mounting their horses at once, they formed upon the
bank of the creek and awaited the approach of the
marines.  The latter, who had been tracking them
faithfully, halted as soon as they came in' sight of the
powerful force drawn up to receive them.
i have no fight to describe in this instance. There
would have been, however, if the peppery old marine
officer could have had his way; for, with a force of
twenty-five men, all told, he at first "pooh-poohed" the
suggestion of the other officer that it might not be
altogether safe or prudent, with so small a force, and
on foot, to attack a body of eighty or ninety, admirably
mounted, as they could see, even though they were
"Yankees."
" Why, sir," said the marine, "do you mean to say
that twenty-five of his Majesty's picked men could be
made to turn their backs on that gang of clod-hoppers,
mounted though they are? You must excuse me, sir,
but I can't conceive the possibility of such a thing."
" Those are not clod-hoppers, as you call them, sir,"
said the other, "but a band of picked men, against




268        THlE QUAKER PARTISAINS.
whom our small force would stand no more chance
than a handful of chaff before a gale. Do you know
that they are the men who stormed the orchard battery
at Germantown, and tore the companies supporting it
to fragments, as if a magazine had blown up among
them? We will do very well if they let us go back at
all."
After some further discussion, and a good deal of
grumbling on the part of the old marine at the disgrace of his Majesty's troops turning their backs upon
any number of rebels, the order was given to retreat.
It was conducted in good order, the Rangers not interfering; for Clayton did not wish to be troubled with
prisoners he had no convenient means of disposing. of,
and was very well satisfied to avoid a conflict in the
city, where he might have been hemmed in: so, as soon
as he saw the enemy fairly on their retrograde march,
he put his troop in motion in the opposite direction,
and made his way as rapidly as possible from the dangerous neighborhood.
As soon as they were in the open country, Harry
raised the flag upon his carbine, securing it between
the ramrod and the stock, for want of a better flag-staff,
thus diverting the attention of a few of the men who
were inclined to grumble at having been prevented
from attacking the marines; which was Harry's principal reason for showing it at that time.
I cannot do justice to the rage of General Howe
when he learned what a prize had walked into his
grasp, and the cool manner in which it had walked out
of it again.




CHAPTER XXIII.
MONTH after month passed on. The British were
still in Philadelphia, leading the sober and moral life
which armies are accustomed to lead in a garrison
town.
The American army still lay at Valley Forge, enduring with stern patience their unparalleled sufferings. Washington was occupying a little low-browed
room in old Isaac Potts the Quaker preacher's house,
as his head-quarters, with a hole cut under the windowseat for a fire-proof safe in which to keep his private
papers. Old Baron Steuben was there, drilling the
barefooted troops in the snow, cheerful and lively on
the scanty fare, in the luxury of which the officers
shared as well as the men,-so scanty that, as the old
baron afterward told, his cook left him, saying, by
way of justification, that "where he had nothing on
which to display his art, it was of no consequence who
turned the string" (of the spit).
The memorable and never-to-be forgotten "Battle of
the Kegs" had been fought and won by the persistent
and stubborn gallantry of the British, who lined the
wharves and kept up a fire upon every stick that
floated past, throughout the whole of a January day.
In the words of an old letter published in the "American
Museum" of 1787, "Both officers and men exhibited
23*          ( 269 )




2710       THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
unparalleled skill and prowess on the occasion, while
the citizens stood gaping as solemn witnesses of this
dreadful scene. In truth, not a chip, stick, or drift-log
passed by without experiencing the vigor of the British
arms. The action began about sunrise, and would
have terminated in favor of the British by noon, had
not an old market-woman, in crossing the river with
provisions, unfortunately let a keg of butter fall overboard; which, as it was then ebb tide,, floated down to
the field of battle. At sight of this unexpected reinforcement of the enemy, the attack was renewed with
fresh force; and the firing from the marine and land
forces was beyond imagination, and so continued until
night closed the conflict. The rebel kegs were either
totally demolished or obliged to fly, as none of them
have shown their heads since. It is said that his excellency Lord Howe has dispatched a swift-sailing
packet with an account of this signal victory to the
Court of London. In short, Monday, the - of January, will be memorable in history for the renowned
Battle of the Kegs."
The Rangers still hovered around the city, pouncing
on straggling vedettes and foraging-parties, and sending them home empty and disarmed (for they never
troubled themselves with prisoners), or following them
helter-skelter up to the very lines of the enemy, drawing out the guards in bootless pursuit, carrying off
their plunder under their very noses, perambulating
the city in disguise and picking up information of their
plans, which they then diligently thwarted, and keeping the British in a constant fever of excitement with
their mad pranks. But "the pitcher that goes often
to the well gets broken at last."




THE QUAKER PAR TISANS.           271
One afternoon in March, Clayton's scouts brought
in word that a strong party was out in the neighborhood of Frankford, coming toward the city, with a
number of cattle which they had seized.
He immediately started to intercept them, at the
head of Bettle's and Wetherill's divisions, and some
others, amounting, altogether, to about sixty men.
Coming up with the enemy in the Frankford road,
about half a mile above the city, he attacked them.
The latter, though fully as strong as his own party,
immediately broke before the charge, and, abandoning
their booty, retreated in confusion toward the city.
Ordering Wetherill, with some half-dozen men, to take
charge of the cattle and drive them to the rendezvous,
he followed with the balance of his force in hot pursuit.
The two parties rushed together pell-mell down the
road, when, as they entered a kind of defile, formed by
a deep cut, hedged in by woods on each side, a shower
of musket-balls from the thick undergrowth of bushes
on the edge of either steep bank poured down upon
the Rangers like a hailstorm. At the same instant
Clayton saw that the road was blocked up in front by
a solid body of infantry, certainly not less than two
hundred strong, which had opened its ranks to let the
fugitives pass through, and then instantly closed again.
They were betrayed! Not, however, by their scouts,
who had neither seen nor suspected the presence of any
stronger force than the escort which had been first attacked, and which had in reality only acted as a decoy
to lead them into the trap.
Before they had recovered from the momentary surprise of the first double volley, which had emptied
nearly half the saddles in the troop, another storm of




2 7 2      THE Q UARKER PAR TISA4NS.
balls from the strong force in front swept through
them.
Reeling under the deadly fire, their movements hampered, in the confined space in which they were crowded, by the bodies of fallen men and horses, disordered
by the frantic kicking of some of the latter, which lay
wounded and entangled among the legs of their own
horses, the surviving Rangers wavered for a moment,
and seemed upon the point of breaking away in a headlong panic.
It was only for a moment. Restored to order by the
calm but powerful voice of Clayton and the fiery orders
of Bettle, the few remaining men backed their horses
rapidly but steadily a few paces to clearer ground,
wheeled suddenly, firing as they turned, and dashed
up the road toward Frankford, scattering the foragers,
who had taken advantage of the momentary pause to
steal around to their rear, like dead leaves before a
gale.
Wetherill, with his half-dozen men and the cattle,
had not got more than a quarter of.a mile away, when
the volleys were heard in quick succession.
Ile ordered a halt at once; for his practiced ear told
him that the fire was too heavy for the party they had
chased.
" They're in a trap," said he,. " as sure as-Woodward, thee has the swiftest horse. Ride for life, and
bring up all the men; McLane's and all. There's
half an army at Clayton."
With these hurried words, Wetherill, leaving the
cattle to take care of themselves, turned back toward
the fight with his companions, while Woodward, before
his officer had more than half finished his order, was




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             273
skimming across the fields, over hedge and ditch and
fence, his light-heeled mare clearing everything like a
wild deer.
When Clayton broke through those in his rear, a
strong body of light-horse dashed out of the woods on
each side of the road in pursuit.. They kept to the
fields, and continued the pursuit in this way, with the
Rangers a little in advance, but exposed, thus, to a
raking fire from each side.
The latter pushed on, keeping up a sharp fire, however, from their carbines as they ran, until the superior speed of their horses had put them sufficiently in
advance to give thenl room to turn off the road to the
left and gain the large open meadow which lay beside
it, crossing the front of the body of horsemen on that
side, and bringing them between them and the others.
Once on open ground, with room enough for the
purpose, the Rangers scattered in their usual fashion
when in conflict with a much superior force, thus separating and distracting their fire.
The two bodies of light-horse had now united, and
the Rangers still retreated, slowly, wheeling and circling in their hawk-like movements, not widening the
space between them and their enemies materially, but
keeping nearly the same relative distance-about a
hundred yards-never offering for an instant a stationary mark to fire at, while nearly every ball from
their carbines and pistols told on the solid column
which was steadily pursuing them.
In the mean time, the commander of the infantry at
the defile, who had seen the Rangers in action before,
suspecting that they would take to the fields as soon
as possible, and make for the Wissahickon, had taken




274        THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
advantage of a bend in the road, pushed as rapidly as
possible through the wood, and now emerged from it
with his whole force a little in advance of the Rangers,
-on their flank, I was going to say; but they had no
flank, properly speaking; but in a position which was
parallel to their general course.
As they appeared, the Rangers, without closing
their ranks, at a whistle from Clayton, abandoned their
wheeling movements, and all but Clayton and Bettle,
who remained upright in their saddles, dropping by
the sides of their horses as Harry had done when he
escaped, darted forward in a straight line for a couple
of hundred yards or so, until they had left this danger
in their rear also.
They received a volley from the whole line as they
passed; but the Regulars fired high, and no damage
appeared to have been done.
As they slackened their pace again, a small flag appeared above a roll in the ground about a quarter of a
mile off, and the next moment Harry appeared on the
crest of the hill, waving the blue flag, and followed by
the whole remaining force of the Rangers and McLane's
men combined.
" There they come," said Bettle, turning to Clayton, beside whom he was riding. "Now we'll-But
what's the matter?" he exclaimed, interrupting himself in alarm, as he saw Clayton's face ghastly pale,
and his hand pressed against his side.
"I'm hit," said Clayton; "badly, I fear; but don't
tell the men; I'll stay in the saddle as long as possible," and then added, in an undertone, as though speaking to himself, "Oh, Mary, Mary, this will be sad
news for thee." He spoke with difficulty, as if the




TIlE QUAKER PARTISANS.            275
effort gave him pain, and said no more. Once or twice
he swayed slightly in his seat, but immediately recovered himself, and sat there sustained by the indomitable spirit within him, to all appearance the
same calm, strong mail he had always been.
By this time the others had come up and thrown
themselves between the wreck of their companions and
their pursuers, covering their retreat and holding the
light-horse at bay, the infantry having been left by this
time at a distance, which removed all apprehension of
danger from them.
Calling Wetherill to take his place by Clayton's
side, to be ready to support him if he grew too weak to
keep his seat, Bettle spurred back to Captain McLane
and told him the circumstances:
" Who's with him?" said McLane.
" Wetherill."
" Tell him to take half a dozen men and get Clayton away to the rendezvous as fast as possible. I'll
take care of these scarlet gentlemen here."
Bettle hurried forward again to give the order, and
the fight went on.
The Americans, being now more nearly equal in
numbers to the enemy, changed their tactics, and, forming in solid column, charged headlong upon them. By
this time the fact of Clayton's wound had spread
through his own troop, and, instead of dispiriting them
as he had feared, it had only set them mad with rage.
Pressing forward in advance of the column, in spite of
the efforts of Bettle and the other officers to restrain
them, they hurled themselves upon the enemy with a
reckless fury that no discipline could withstand, driving
back their front ranks upon those behind them in a




276        THE QUAKER PAR TISAN2S.
confused, huddled-up mass, and disordering their whole
column.
Before they could recover, McLane with his steadier
force was upon them, pushing the advantage thus
gained.  Their ranks disordered, those savage Rangers in the midst of them, fighting, men and horses,
with the blind, reckless ferocity of wounded tigers,
McLane's iron column pressing them steadily back,
the infantry which could have supported them out of
reach, they broke into a disorderly flight toward the
main body. McLane's men stopped at once without
pursuing, for to have followed them to the main body
would have been running into the jaws of death; but
the Rangers clung to them like leeches, paying no
attention to their officers' repeated orders to halt, until
Bettle seized the bridle of the foremost and backed his
horse by main force upon the rest, with his sword.
point at the rider's throat.




CHAPTER XXIV.
THE men in charge of Clayton hurried to the rendezvous, Wetherill and another one supporting him
in the saddle for the last half-mile.
When they reached the place, he dismounted, with
their assistance, and walked between them into -the
house, where he at once lay down, overcome with
weakness.
The rest of the force followed as rapidly as possible,
after they had driven back the enemy and discipline
had been restored among the half-demented Rangers.
There had been almost a mutiny among them before
this could be done; and Barton had actually drawn the
trigger of his pistol at the face of one of the men who
attempted to force his way past him. Fortunately for
the fellow, the pistol snapped, and, brought to his
senses by this sharp reminder, and by observing that
Barton had recocked it, he slunk back to his place.
"Is there any one else who would like to disobey
my orders?" said Barton, slowly and sternly. "For
shame, men! shall it be said that Clayton's Rangers,
with all their discipline, broke into mutiny as soon as
their captain was wounded? For shame!"
" But, lieutenant," said another of the men, "we
only wanted to revenge the captain, and all the boys
that were murdered by them cowards awhile ago."
24           (277)




2 h8       THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
"By sacrificing the balance of the troop! Do you
know there are not less than three hundred infantry
yonder, and that another minute would have brought
you right among them? We have nothing to do with
vengeance; leave that where it belongs,-ito your
Maker. Back to your place and obey your orders, if
you want to please the captain."
Order being restored, the whole party marched together toward the Wissahickon.
" How did you happen to come up so early?" said
Bettle to Captain McLane, as they rode on together.
"Woodward certainly hadn't time to reach the creek
and bring you from there, when you came up."
"We were on the march," said McLane.  "One of
my scouts discovered the ambuscade and brought me
word at once; and, fearing you might fall into the trap,
wepushed out immediately to support you. We heard
the firing, and were coming up at full speed, when
Woodward reached us, about half a mile from where
we first came in sight."
When they arrived at the rendezvous, they found
Clayton lying upon a rude couch, with Wetherill standing beside him. He was quiet, and apparently free
from suffering, but pale and exhausted.
His eyes had been closed, but the noise of their arrival had roused him.
Turning his head toward the door as McLane and
Bettle entered, with a calm, grave smile, he beckoned
the latter to him.
"William," he said, "the end has come: I shall
never draw sword more."
i" Oh, yes, you will, Captain Clayton," said McLane,
cheerfully. "Wait till we get you into the city, where




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             279
you can be properly cared for, and we'll see you in the
saddle again in a month."
Clayton shook his head with the same calm, grave
smile.
"I'm going to send a flag to Howe, to ask leave to
have you taken in. You can't have proper treatment
here."
" It is useless," said Clayton: "I. could not bear the
journey, and I wish no better care than my own
wounded men have had. Let me meet death where it
has found me,-among them."
"Would thee like to see Mary?" whispered Wetherill, stooping over him.
Clayton's eyes brightened.
"It is the dearest wish I have left," said he; "but
I must give it up."
" No, thee shall see her," said Wetherill; " I'll bring
her here to-night."
In a few minutes more, Wetherill was on his way
to the city with a flag. After some delay, he was admitted within the lines, and conducted to Howe's quarters, where he stated his errand.
The general gave him the order, remarking," It is not the safest time for a lady to travel; but, if
you choose to take the risk of falling in with any of the
marauders who are prowling around the city, you can
do so."
"We will have to take the risk," said Wetherill.
"If your excellency will allow me to accompany
them with an escort," said an officer who was in the
room, "I will esteem it a special kindness. I know
Captain Clayton personally, and would be glad to do
him'this service, as a requital of the courtesy I re



280        THE QUA KER PARTISANS.
ceived from him and his officers when a prisoner among
them."
"You may do so if you wish, Captain Gardner,"
said Howe. "You have hunted him faithfully, very
much against your will, as I know: it is but fair that
you should have the opportunity to do him a favor."
"I thank your excellency," said Captain Gardner
(for it was our old acquaintance of the spring): "it is
a kindness I will remember gratefully."
So saying, he took Wetherill's arm, and theyv left the
house, the British captain in his gay uniform arm-inarm with the Quaker lieutenant in his sober drab suit.
In the course of half an hour more they were on
their way to the Wissahickon, under the promised escort; Mary, her mother, and Sarah Wheeler, whom
Mary had requested to accompany her, in Mrs. Wetherill's carriage, and Wetherill himself and Captain
Gardner on horseback riding beside it.
They reached the place about midnight.
As they approached the door, it was opened from
the inside by Bettle, who had heard them coming.
Placing his finger on his lips, he led them quietly into
the room where Clayton was lying with his eyes closed,
breathing heavily.
"How does he seem?" whispered Mrs. Wetherill
to Bettle.
He shook his head.
" He's sinking; he has been sleeping a little at intervals until about half an hour ago, when a stupor
seemed to come over him   "
Captain Gardner touched Bettle on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," said he, "for interrupting you; this
gentleman, Mr. Lawrence," beckoning to a gentleman




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            281
in an army surgeon's uniform, who had come in with
him, "is the surgeon of our regiment. I have brought
him with us to see if anything can be done to save
Captain Clayton."
Bettle pressed the surgeon's hand silently, and led
him to the rude couch on which the captain lay.
He looked at him for a moment, felt his pulse, applied his ear to his chest, and then turned to Bettle
and Captain Gardner, who were watching him with
anxious faces, and shook his head gravely.
"Nothing can -save him," he whispered. "He is
bleeding to death internally. Is there any wine or
brandy at hand?"
"I have both in the carriage," said Mrs. Wetherill;
" I will bring them in."
Pouring out a glass of brandy, the surgeon raised
Clayton's head upon his arm and applied it to his lips.
Partially aroused by the motion, and the pungent
smell of the brandy, Clayton opened his -eyes again
and looked dreamily around him.
"Drink," said the surgeon.
Clayton obeyed, mechanically, and in a moment
afterward, revived by the powerful stimulant, raised
himself on his elbow and looked around him again,
still dreamily, but with more apparent consciousness
than before.
"Where's Mary?" said he: "I thought Wetherill
brought her here."
Bettle silently beckoned to her, and she came forward
and knelt by her lover.
" I am here, Ellis," she said, as she bent over him,
and, pushing back the damp locks from his forehead,
kissed it tenderly. What cared she that others were
24*




282       ITHE QUAKER PARTISANS.
standing by? So far as any consciousness of the
presence of others was concerned, she and Clayton
were the only occupants of that lonely house. She
saw nothing but the pale face that was now resting
against her breast; she felt nothing but the faint pressure of the hand in which her own was grasped; she
heard nothing but the low murmur of his voice as he
strove, forgetful as ever of himself, to console her and
strengthen her to bear the great sorrow that had come
upon her.
"Has he a mother?" asked McLane of Bettle, as
they stood looking sadly at this spectacle.
"No," said Bettle: "his parents are both dead. I
am the only relative he has living, that I know of."
At this moment Mary pointed to the glass which
was standing near, with a spoonful of brandy in it.
It was handed to her, and she put it to his lips; he
swallowed a little of it, and, raising his head again from
Mary's breast, beckoned the others to bim.
"I have not taken the sword for fame or glory,'r he
said, as they gathered around him, "but that I might
do my duty. I have striven to do it faithfully, as I understood it. When I am dead, let me be buried by my
father, if possible, without any show or parade, according to the custom of my people. Let such of my men
as wish, or are permitted, attend, unarmed, and as private citizens. Call in Frank and Harry."
They came in.
" I have sent for you," continued Clayton, "to bid
you farewell. We have fought our last battle together;
and I want to leave you a last charge. Do not attempt
-let no one attempt —to revenge my death. Tell the
men so; and tell them to obey their officers as well as




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             283
they have always obeyed me. These are their captain's last orders. Farewell."
The two men each grasped their captain's hand
with a silent pressure, and then walked sadly away.
Clayton ceased speaking, and his head sank back
upon the pillow. He lay thus for some time, with his
eyes closed, in silence, Mary still kneeling beside him,
with his right hand clasped in both of hers, looking at
the pale face in dumb, tearless agony; while Sarah
Wheeler bent over him, gently wiping away the cold
damps which gathered over the forehead.
Bettle stood close beside him, his arms locked tightly
across his chest, and his features working convulsively
as he watched the face of the surgeon, who, with one
hand thrust into the breast of his coat, and the other
on the dying man's wrist, stood watching his countenance with the calm gravity of his profession.
They remained thus for some minutes, when the surgeon, turning to Bettle, who was standing nearest him,
said, in a low voice, " It is coming!"
There were a few of those long, deep, awful inhalations, which he who has seen never forgets; they grew
fainter and fainter, and at last Mary's face, which had
been directed fixedly toward Clayton's, dropped upon
his breast; the suigeon gently laid down the hand he
held, and all that was left of Ellis Clayton lay there
motionless and still.




CHAPTER XXV.
IT was the third day after the death of Clayton, and
Captain Gardner had obtained permission to have him
brought to the city and laid beside his father, as he had
requested. Permission was also given to his troop and
that of McLane to attend the funeral; and they were
all there,-the wild, bronzed Rangers standing around
the grave in solemn silence, with heads uncovered, as
the body of their commander was lowered to its last
resting-place by Frank and Harry with their lariats.
It was a privilege the latter had asked of Wetherill,
that their hands should be the last employed about the
person of their captain.
They did not withdraw the lariats, but, gathering
togther the leaden balls with which the ends were
armed, Harry drew the flag from his bosom, and,
wrapping them in it, dropped it upon the breast of
Clayton.
The two men then stepped aside, and Bettle led
Mary forward to the trying ordeal, which custom still
preserves, of taking her last look into the grave.
She shed no tears. She could not. Her face wore
the same look of dumb, tearless agony it had shown
when she knelt by him as he was dying. But it was
wan and haggard; there were lines upon it that told of
years of suffering crowded into those brief three days,
and she shook as with deadly cold.
(284)




THE Q UAKER PARTISANS.            285
Her mother then came forward, leaning upon her
son's arm, followed by Sarah Wheeler and her brother,
and then by the numerous friends who had attended.
When all had given their last look, and turned away,
with tears flowing plentifully, and taken their departure from the ground, Captain Gardner, who had stood
beside Barton, stepped forward, and, taking a handful
of earth, leaned over the grave and dropped it in. His
example was followed by the other officers present,
and by the troopers, one by one, as they filed past the
grave and so marched slowly away.
"Your cause has lost one of its best and bravest
men, and earth one of her great souls, in him who lies
yonder," said Captain Gardner to Barton, as they
parted near the gate.
"It may be," said Barton. "I know that I have
lost the best and noblest friend I ever had."
So saying, he bent down his head and walked
silently after the troop.
I have not much more to tell. The history of the
Rangers, in their distinctive character as an independent corps, ceases here. They did not disband,
nor did a man withdraw from the work to which they
had devoted themselves. But with Clayton the vital
power of the troop, in its peculiar organization, had
departed.  Barton, unquestionably the nearest like
him in character of mind, was still far inferior to him
in the prompt readiness to meet all emergencies, the
unfailing -self-command, the fertility of resources, and
the iron fixedness of purpose, which were Clayton's
distinguishing characteristics. Fully conscious of this,




286        THE QUA KER PARTISANS.
he would not assume the responsibility of taking his
place. After some consultations with the other officers,
therefore, at Bettle's suggestion, which was seconded
by the rest, and acquiesced in cheerfully by the men
when they found that neither Barton nor either of the
other lieutenants would assume the command, the
troop was placed under the command of Captain
McLane (with the exception of Long Johnny Mac
Allan's boys, who, becoming a little tired of cavalry
service, which was not their forte, attached themselves
to Morgan's riflemen), and remained so, acting entirely under his orders as part of his corps, so long as
they remained before the city. Their' sojourn there
terminated with the Meschianza, that stupendous piece
of gorgeous folly with which the British officers disgraced the last month of their residence in Philadelphia. I have neither tiihe, space, nor inclination to
describe it. It was got up mainly by Major Andr6,
whose principal forte seems to have lain in the direction and management of private theatricals, and whose
achievements, so far as history has recorded them, appear to have consisted chiefly in writing doggerel
verses in ridicule of better men than himself, scenepainting for the aforesaid private theatricals, sketching
designs for ladies' head-dresses, getting up balls and
dancing gracefully at the same, and occupying his time
in an industrious display of these and similar small accomplishments.
I am afraid, if Arnold's cunning in making a cat'spaw of him had not brought upon him the fate which
should have been his own, that Major Andre would
have occupied a very different and much smaller niche
in the world's history than he does; and there would




THE QUA KER PARTISANS.           287
have been one monument less in England's Walhalla,
Westminster Abbey. Where stands the tomb of Nathan Hale, among our national monuments?
While this gigantic farce of a Meschianza was in
what somebody calls "the full tide of successful experiment," Captain McLane, with his whole force, armed
with camp-kettles full of combustibles, somewhat after
the fashion of Gideon of old with his pitchers and
lamps therein, approached the line of abatis which
extended along the Delaware south of the city, touched
off their combustibles, fired the whole abatis, and then
skurried off by the light to the hills of the Wissahickon, and thence leisurely to Valley Forge; leaving
the Neck all alive with guards, turning out at the roll
of the drums, officers hurrying to their posts, and
alarm-guns banging away across the peninsula from
river to river, and raising such a clatter around the
Wharton House that it required the most strenuous
exertions of the officers at the fete, backed by an infinite number of fibs, to persuade the ladies present that
there was really nothing at all the matter, and that all
this hideous noise was only a part of the performance.
This was the last prank that was played upon
the British during their occupation of Philadelphia,
McLane, as I said before, having immediately proceeded to Valley Forge, where he remained until the
army marched to the city, on the 18th of June, entering it close on the heels of the retiring enemy,-so
close, indeed, that one of their officers, " The Honorable Cosmo Gordon," being perhaps addicted to late
hours, slept so late in the morning that the family on
whom he was quartered thought it but kind to rouse




288        TIHE Q UAKER PARTISANS.
him and tell him that " his friends the rebels" were
in town.
"The Honorable Cosmo" dressed himself with marvelous speed, and, after a great deal of trouble, succeeded in hiring a boat, in which he was put across the
river just as " his friends the rebels" marched into the
city.
Philadelphia was once more in the hands of its
rightful owners; and nothing remains now but to
gather up the few scattered threads of my story, knot
them together, and leave them and it in your hands.
As soon as the American army was comfortably
settled in the city, Bettle obtained leave of absence
for a short time, which he improved by going straightway to Brandywine. He found the Sanfords quietly
settled in the old house, everything prosperous around
them, all glad to see him, Jenny very manifestly so.
Bettle had intended to surprise them, but was defeated by Mike, who caught sight of him coming along
the road, and at once left his work and burst uproariously into the house, shouting,"Whirra-r-r-r-oo! but it's meself's got the news for
yeez. He's comin'; I seen'im wid me own two eyes
a-comin' along the road."
" If thee can come to thy senses without too much
trouble, and tell us who it is thee means," said Thomas
Sanford, "we'll be obliged to thee."
"Och, now," said Mike, " an' didn't I tell yees who
it was? Annyhow, it's always puttin' the horse before the cart I am-no, puttin' the cart behind the
horse, it is-blur an' ages I but I mane puttin' the cart
in the horse-tunder and turf I I don't know what it
is, only it's Misther Bettle."




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.             289
"I'm glad thee's found out at last what it is," said
John Sanford, dryly, as they all rose from the suppertable at which they had been seated, and hurried to
the door.
In a few minutes more, Bettle was seated in the oldfashioned kitchen, with the family around him, with
the exception of John, who had taken Roland to the
stable, Mike having "respectfully but firmly" declined
to go within ten feet of him.
"I bring good news in general," said Bettle, "but
sad news, in one respect, to me, and I think to you
also. We are masters of Philadelphia again; but Clayton is dead."
"Clayton dead!" said Thomas Sanford. "That is
sorrowful news indeed. How did he die?"
" In battle. We were decoyed into an ambuscade by
a party of foragers, and the troop was almost cut to
pieces before we could get clear; Clayton was shot, in
the retreat."
"Did he die on the field?" asked Jenny.
"No," said Bettle: "He was able to keep on his
horse at first, and we held them at bay, with the assistance of Captain McLane, till he reached a place of
safety. He died in a few hours afterward, however."
Bettle then gave a short history of all that had
taken place since the troop left the Brandywine, occupying the rest of the evening in his narrative.
He remained in his present quarters about ten days,
in the course of which he visited old'Riah Woodward,
and delivered some messages from his three sons, concerning, among other things, the desirableness of some
remittances of clothing, their joint stock consisting of
two ragged coats, one horse-blanket doing duty as a
25




290        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
coat, one pair of breeches in tolerable condition, two
ditto dilapidated, one shirt and a half, and three stockings.
He also took an opportunity of whispering to Mary
Woodward a message from Harry, at which she tossed
her head saucily, and said-not exactly as if she meant
it-that he was an impudent fellow, and what business
had he to be sending messages to her, indeed?
Somehow or other, nevertheless, when Bettle returned, he was charged with a message to Harry. I
don't know what it was; something about his impudence, probably. Be that as it may, at the close of
the following autumn there was a wedding at the old
miller's house, in which the principal performers were
Harry Darlington and Mary Woodward.
Bettle also visited Mac Allan, whom he found, with
his family, domiciled in a comfortable log house, very
much like the old one which had been burnt, and, for
the rest of the day, kept the old man and his family in
a state of delight with his accounts of the doings of the
troop, and particularly with the high praise he bestowed upon the boys for their skill and daring. When
he described the taking of the battery at Germantown,
and told him how much of their success was owing to
the cool and effective way in which the boys had cleared
the ground for the charge upon the guns, the old man's
feelings fairly overcame his discretion, and, springing
to his feet, he waved his huge arm over his head, and
gave them vent in a prodigious hurrah I
Relieved by this, he sat down again, and listened
quietly to the rest of the narrative, only remarking,
when told that the boys had joined Morgan,"Ay, ay! that's the place for'em; they're used to




THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            291
that kind o' sarvice. I was a, little dubersome about
how they'd git along in the stirrups; though they've
done better than I thought they would."
Bettle also told of the death of Clayton, but did not
dwell much upon it; for it was a subject on which he
could not trust himself to speak much, as yet.
The ten days of furlough passed all too rapidly; but
before they had passed by, Bettle had broached the subject nearest his heart to Thomas and Martha Sanford.
" We have expected it," said Thomas; " and thee
is the one we would have chosen of all others to intrust our daughter with. She is a good girl, and has
always been a dutiful child to us; I think she will
make a good and dutiful wife to any one she is attached
to, as I think she is to thee. But there is no hurry"(why do fathers always say "there's no hurry"? They
didn't think so when they wanted to be married)-"she's
very young yet, and while thee will have to be away
from her so much during this war, at any rate, wouldn't
it be better for her to stay at home with us?"
"Perhaps reason vould say yes," answered Bettle,
"but I don't feel reasonable on this subject. Did thee,
under the same circumstances?"
" I don't suppose I did," said Thomas. "Nevertheless, Martha and I waited for each other for four long
years, and didn't get tired of waiting, either; did we,
Martha?"
"No," said Martha, "we did not; though," she
added, with a quiet smile, "one or two of thy friends
tried to persuade me that I ought to be tired of it. No,
William, it will do no harm to either of you to wait.
Jenny is too young to marry yet.; thee must let us
keep her for a year or two longer, till we see what are




292        THE QUAKER PARTISANS.
the prospects of peace. When the war is over, we will
give her to thee. I think we can trust thy affection, I
know we can trust Jenny's, not to wear out by a little
delay."
A momentary feeling that this talk was a little coldblooded, flashed across Bettle, but he dismissed it at
once, for he could not help feeling its prudence and
sound judgment. He saw the force of what was said
about his unavoidable absence from her during the war,
and hoping, as did every one else, that it would soon be
at an end, he acquiesced, as cheerfully as he could, in
the decision. Had he suspected that nearly six long
years more lay between him and his crowning happiness, I doubt if he would have been half so strongly
impressed with the force of the arguments that were
used.
The furlough had expired, and Bettle returned to his
duty. The war went on with varying success, from
Monmouth, where humble Molly Pitcher earned for
herself a place, in the annals of female heroism, beside
the Maid of Saragossa, to Yorktown, where the long,
sore struggle between might and right ended as, sooner
or later, in God's good providence, it always has ended,
and always will, till the flame of His final Judgment
shall have swept away all evil from the earth.
The Rangers followed the war to its close, fighting
well and faithfully, wherever their duty led them.
In the spring of 1784, following the treaty of peace,
Bettle and Jenny were married, and took up their
abode in Philadelphia, where, in as short a time as
could reasonably have been expected, Mike, who, on
Bettle's marriage, had installed himself as his coachman, wages or no wages, might have been seen care



THE QUAKER PARTISANS.            293
fully leading a horse to water-not- Roland, he had
been killed, poor fellow, in one of the frequent skirmishes his master had been engaged in-on which was
mounted, bare-backed, a sturdy boy of some three
years old, with his heels kicking gleefully against the
horse's sides, while his fat; chubby hands were half
buried in the mane to which he clung.
Frank and Harry returned together to the Brandywine. The former went to his old post at Thomas
Sanford's, where he remained about a year, and then
departed for what was then known as the "backwoods," not far from the scene of his first experience
in battle, taking with him Jemima Mac Allan, and
settled down as one of the band of hardy pioneers to
whom our country owes so much of its early greatness.
Harry went back to the mill of'Riah Woodward, of
which he took charge, the old man saying he had
worked long enough, and now meant to play. He had
settled his sons around him, on farms of their own,
and occupied his time, when not playing in the mill,
with circulating around among them, giving them all,
in turn, the benefit of his experience in their farming
operations, and always turning to, from old habit,
whenever any work was to be done, and doing his
share as industriously as anybody-all in the way of
rest and play, he said.
The Mac Allan boys scattered through Western
Pennsylvania and Eastern Ohio, and became mighty
hunters of deer and " varmint," such as bears, panthers,
wild cats, etc.
Bettle and his wife made an annual visit to the old
homestead with their children, and never failed to




294        TIIE QUAKER PARTISA NS.
climb to the summit of old Deborah's Rock. Year
after year they told their children-they never tired of
hearing it-the story of the siege there, and how they
had driven the Tories down the bank, and how he, by
whose grave they stood, had lost his life to save the
mother to whose low, sweet voice they listened.
Mary Wetherill never married. She might have
done so, but her first love had been given to Clayton;
and a nature like hers had no second love to bestow.
" It cannot be," she said to Captain Gardner, whose
sympathy for her had ripened into strong affection.
"My heart is dead to all earthly love."
So the Palm stood on, alone in its desolation.
Sarah Wheeler never married. She had opportunities enough, but she said that now the country had
obtained its independence, she didn't see why she
should throw away hers.
They are all gone, now, the actors in my story.
But the old Rock still heaves up its craggy breast beside the quiet stream; the trees still wave their leafy
crowns around it; the old house still looks toward it,
across the broad, low meadows, through which the
little stream trickles from under the rude bridge, the
scene of Bettle's early reverie; and the Brandywine
Hills still roll off to the horizon in the same matchless
beauty, sleeping in the sunlight, with the shadows of
the summer clouds flitting over them.
THE END.




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