# The Rider of the Black Horse/Chapter 3
### CHAPTER III AN ADVENTURE WITH THE COWBOYS

A sound, faint and yet distinct, had been heard by both men coming from the road, and when they heard it repeated they rushed from the house, a great fear having suddenly seized upon Robert. Neither spoke for a moment as they discerned the outlines of a horse led by a man, who was holding the animal by the bridle, disappearing around the bend of the road.
"You don't suppose it's my horse, do you?" inquired Robert in a whisper.
Dirck made no response as he darted back into the house and hastily mounted the ladder that led to the room above. Robert followed his friend into the house, but waited with such calmness as he could assume for the report to be made.
"Come, Robert, come up here," called Dirck from the loft.
With feverish haste Robert clambered up the ladder, and as he stepped out upon the floor he required no further explanation, for ​the man was gone. A low open window was in one end of the room, and running to it Robert peered out at the ground below him. It was not more than eight or nine feet from the window to the ground, and the stranger might easily have departed from the house by dropping from the opening.
Convinced that Russell had disappeared in this manner, Robert instantly followed his example; and as soon as he felt the grass beneath his feet he ran swiftly to the little barn, and, flinging open the door, peered eagerly within. His worst fears were confirmed, for his horse was no longer there. For a moment he stood stupidly staring at the stall where a few moments before he had left Nero to enjoy his well-earned rest; but he was roused from his lethargy by the approach of the young Dutchman.
"He's stolen my horse, Dirck! The rascal has got away with Nero!"
"Yes, it was so," replied Dirck, gazing quietly into the empty stall.
"The villain! I wish I had him here. I'd break the Tory's neck!" exclaimed Robert, now almost beside himself with anger.
"But here he was not."
"I can get him! I must get him! I know ​in which direction he went! Have n't you a horse anywhere about the place?"
"No. Nein."
"I must go without one, then!" exclaimed Robert. "I must get Nero again! I can't go on without him! I 'll be back—sometime," he called; and almost before the startled Dirck was aware of what was occurring, Robert had turned and fled from the barn and was running swiftly along the road in the direction in which the faint outlines of the man and beast had disappeared a few moments before.
There were no plans in the mind of the furious young soldier, only a wild impulse to follow until he had overtaken the thief and secured his stolen horse. In his belt was the pistol he had carried with him, but both belt and pistol were in Dirck's house, where he had left them when he had seated himself at the supper-table. He was consequently unarmed, but he had no thought of weapons or what might befall if he was so fortunate as to overtake the man who had made off with his horse. For the moment his wild rage seemed to provide all the weapons he required, and he ran on and on until at last he was compelled to stop and regain his breath.
Not a trace of man or horse had he secured. ​The moon had risen by this time, and above the border of the tall trees that grew close to the roadside was casting its beams over the land until it was almost as light as day about him. For the first time the thought of the folly of an attempt to pursue a man who was mounted on the back of such a horse as Nero swept over him. It was useless, but Robert Dorlon did not feel that he could as yet abandon the attempt, and as soon as he had in a measure recovered from the violence of his exertions he resumed the pursuit, although now he was not running so swiftly as when he had first started. Occasional glimpses of the river were had in the moonlight, and at several places he halted to peer keenly down the banks, hoping and yet not expecting to discover the man in hiding somewhere near. It was not likely, he assured himself, that the man would stop soon, unless he should perceive how nearly winded his horse was; but the brief rest had doubtless prepared Nero for a swift pace, at least for a time.
The first feelings of anger were gone now, and Robert, as he still kept on his way, was striving to think out the plan which Russell would be most likely to adopt. Doubtless he would endeavor to place a good distance be​tween himself and Dirck's house first of all, and then, secure in the belief that he could not be successfully followed by men who were not mounted, he would strive to cross the river and go on to New York on the opposite side.
But to cross the Hudson he must have aid, and Robert strove to think of the most probable places where he could secure some one to ferry him and his stolen horse to the eastern shore. Four or five miles down the river there was just such a ferry; and if he could only gain it before Russell should succeed in arranging for the crossing, there might be still some hope. The man would have to rouse the ferryman; there was a bare possibility that the latter might not be at home; there were other delays that might occur, and in the thought Robert once more increased the speed at which he was moving. He had entered a darker part of the rough roadway, where the tall trees shut out the moonlight on either side, but a hundred feet in advance of him he could see that the road led one into a broader place where the light was clearer and the dark trees were not so close to the border. For the first time Robert thought of his own safety and became aware of his defenseless condition. Hardly conscious of ​what he was doing, he stooped and picked up a stout club and proceeded with increased caution on his way. He glanced keenly about him as he entered the narrower roadway, and the sudden movement of a rabbit in the brush almost caused him to cry aloud, so startling was the sound in the midst of the tense silence. He began again to run, but quickly checked his speed, and could see that he was now within a few yards of the more open place. His alarm was groundless, he assured himself, and with a sigh of relief he was about to step forth into the light when directly across his pathway appeared four men.
So startled was Robert Dorlon by the unexpected appearance that at first he was tempted to believe they were shadows and not living men; but the hail of one of them instantly drove all such suspicions from his mind.
"You travel late, young man," said one of them gruffly.
"Or early," responded Robert quickly, laughing nervously as he spoke.
Who were these men? Was it possible they were friends? Rumors of the activities of both the cowboys and the skinners had ​been current of late, and if the men who had halted him belonged to the latter band there was a dim possibility that he might secure their aid. If, however, they should prove to be cowboys, then he knew what his fate was likely to be. In the dim light he could perceive that not one of the men was dressed in the uniform of either army, and the only way in which he would be able to determine their sympathies was to be cautious in his replies to their questions and strive to learn from their own words whether they were friends or foes.
"Where are you going?" demanded the man who had before spoken.
"Back here in the country," responded Robert quietly.
"That won't do," said the man sternly.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Who you are and where you are going."
"I told you."
"Tell us once more, then."
"I'm going back into the country."
​"And I told you that would n't do. You have a strange way of going 'back' in the country when you are headed down the river."
"Still that may lead 'back' into the country," said Robert quietly. He had been keenly watching the men, and several plans of action had already presented themselves to his active mind, but he would reserve them to the last, he assured himself, as he eagerly waited for the man to speak again.
"Is it to New York, or Morristown?"
"To neither."
"Where, then?"
"I told you."
"Who are you?"
"Robert Dorlon."
A brief whispered consultation followed between the men, but Robert was unable to overhear what was said. He had slight fear that his name would be known, and it would serve as well as any other in reply to the question which no longer could he evade.
"In which army are you?" demanded the man again.
"Can't you see? I'm in neither," replied Robert, striving to speak lightly, although his fears were now increasing.
"Do you belong to either army?"
​"I'm a friend of Clinton."
"That settles it. If you belonged to the regulars you would say 'Sir Henry.' You must come with us."
The question in Robert's mind was answered now, and the men before him, he was convinced, were cowboys, Tories, or, it might be, redcoats in disguise. Instantly he turned about and began to run swiftly back over the rough roadway. The men might fire upon him, and doubtless would, but there was a slight hope in the mind of the young soldier that in the darkness their aim might fail them, and he might be able to escape. He crouched low and ran at his utmost speed. He could hear the men coming swiftly in pursuit, but for some reason, which to him appeared to be unexplainable, they did not fire. It certainly was strange, he thought, but he gave it slight heed as he exerted himself to the utmost of his powers. There had been one loud, sharp call from his pursuers when he had so suddenly darted away, but he thought nothing of it save that it was a call for him to stop. When he drew near the entrance to the narrow place, however, he understood it all, for directly before him and swiftly approaching were four other men, ​who without doubt had been summoned by the call of their comrades.
In an instant Robert perceived what it all meant. He had entered into a trap and was caught between the two divisions of the band. He glanced at both sides of the road, but the bushes were thick, and there was little prospect of escape on either side. Suddenly he wheeled about, and lifting the club which he had retained in his flight, he brought it down upon the head of the pursuer directly behind him.
He was dimly aware that the man dropped to the ground, and instantly Robert leaped over his prostrate form, and began to run swiftly back in the opposite direction. Every moment he expected to hear the sound of a shot, but still not a pistol was discharged. It certainly was strange ; but thankful that it was as it was, he exerted himself as he felt positive he never had done before in all the years of his life. It was a race for liberty, if not for life itself, and everything depended upon the speed he could make now, he assured himself.
The same sharp, loud call had been made when he turned that he had heard before, but he was not troubled now, for he was confident that his would-be captors were all ​behind him. He discovered his mistake, however, when, as he drew near once more to the end of the narrow pass, he suddenly perceived two men approaching swiftly from that direction. He saw that he was caught now, and that there was no escape. The trap had been carefully made and he was taken within the lines.
Instantly the two men threw themselves upon him, and he was hurled to the ground, and held tightly in their grasp. He struggled desperately, but he soon was powerless, for the men all gathered about him, and his hands were securely held.
"We know where you are going now," said the man who had spoken to him before, and who evidently was the leader.
"That's right, Tom," laughed one of his comrades. "But don't you think it would be better to hit him in the head, and let him go?"
"Not yet," responded the leader. Then, turning to Robert, he said, "Come on!"
There was nothing to be done but to obey, and the prisoner followed obediently until the band came out into the open light.
"Search him," said the leader quietly. Powerless to resist, Robert saw his hat re​moved and cut into threads. Next his coat was taken from him, and with knives cut into strips.
"Here we have it!" said one of the men exultantly, as he took from within the lining the letter which Robert had received from the American commander, and had sewed in his coat for safe-keeping. Tears of anger and mortification were in his eyes as he beheld the man who had discovered the letter hand it to the leader, about whom most of the band quickly gathered.
* ↑ In the time of the Revolution bands of lawless men who preyed upon the defenseless people and professed alle- giance to neither side. Those who were supposed to be more favorable to the British were called "cowboys," and those who were more friendly to the Americans were known as "skinners." But plunder was the foremost motive of both, and seldom did sentiment prevent either from carrying out their plans of evil.