# Mistress Madcap/Chapter 17

THERE was confusion in the Condit kitchen for a short time as the young officer carried Miranda over to the settle opposite Charity, and Mistress Nancy flew for cold water with which to restore her to consciousness.
But Mehitable turned a blanched face to General Washington.
"There be no man here who knows the way over the mountain passes!" she gasped. "Ye have not time, either, to summon Amos from the barn!"
General Washington, who had been fastening the collar of his cape hastily around his neck, for his keen mind told him that the hope of the American Army must not be caught in such a trap as this, paused to regard her thoughtfully.
"'Tis true!" he admitted. "Captain Mason," he raised his voice, "know ye the short route back to Morristown over the mountains."
"Nay, sir!" The young officer, struggling into his greatcoat, looked at him in dismay. "Only through Millburn! And that way come ye Tories!"
"Here, sip this!" Mistress Nancy's voice could be heard admonishing Miranda in the silence that followed. Mehitable wrung her hands.
​"But ye must not be found here by the Tories!" she panted. "Poor Miranda's bravery must not go thus unrewarded, Your Excellency!"
The officers gathered in a close circle around their general.
"'Tis twenty against five, sir!" one of them protested earnestly. "Surely ye will decide to flee?"
General Washington glanced at him impatiently.
"Of course," he said. He strode forward.
But at the kitchen door he was met by Mehitable, wrapped in her mother's cardinal, the hood of which was drawn tightly around her determined young face.
"I know the way!" she said. "I will go with you and guide you over ye mountain pass! I know almost every inch of this country in that direction!"
"Nay, child!" General Washington started back in quick denial. "I cannot let you put yourself in such danger! 'Tis most brave of you; but I cannot permit it!"
Mistress Condit attracted by the brief argument, raising her head and seeing that her guests were about to depart, hurried across the kitchen to them.
"Your Excellency, Mehitable would be most proud an you let her guide you!" she said earnestly.
"But, madam!" The general turned to her. "Even now 'tis growing dusk——"
He was interrupted by Mehitable.
"They come!" she exclaimed. "Ye Tories come!"
The little party of Americans wasted no more time, then. With hastily spoken farewells to the hostess, they were down the path and upon their horses' backs ​which, blanketed and tethered, had been waiting patiently in the rain for just such an emergency as this. One of the young officers, however, found himself deprived of a horse, for Mehitable was in the saddle before him.
"Ride double!" she shouted at him through the storm.
Never as long as she lived, would Mehitable forget the wild ride. Straight away from the Condit farmhouse to the north, on the Second Road, they rode, then they swerved into the Northfield Road that led up over the mountains to the little settlement of Northfield. But just before they left the Second Road, they met a solitary horseman riding in the opposite direction. With his head sunk into the protection of his upturned collar and his hat pulled low over his forehead, he did not appear to see them until the party were upon him then Mehitable wanted to laugh at the visible start he gave, as they dashed past him. Had she glanced over her shoulder, she might have seen him rein in his horse to stare after them malevolently; but she was riding low in her saddle, her face along the horse's neck, guiding him more by low-voiced commands than by the bit.
The road was mounting upward, now, through the dense forest that stood, threatening and gloom-filled in the stormy twilight, on either side. The others, not so sure of the rocky way—indeed, it had narrowed into the inevitable cart path—labored far behind, so that at last Mehitable, not to be too far in advance, halted her horse and blinked the raindrops from her eyelashes to glance around her. As she did so she had the eld ​feeling of being watched! Sure enough, turning in her saddle, she caught sight of the Indian lurking behind a tree not more than ten feet away.
But this time instead of vanishing into the forest like a wood creature he stepped out of concealment and, approaching her, he raised his right hand, palm outward, in the Indian salutation.
"Go north—notch way!" he grunted, then.
"Why?" asked Mehitable, in surprise. The other road, through a deep cut in the mountain called the notch, was a much longer route.
The Indian would not tell her, however, merely repeating his command, or advice, she could not tell which, and disappearing before the others could reach them, so that she had time to debate the question with herself. Should she return to the foot of the mountain to the Second Road and follow that north to the Notch Road or should she hold to her original determination to go straight west over the mountains to Northfield?
The decision was taken out of her hands, for when General Washington arrived at her side he looked at her rather sharply.
"That was an Indian?" he asked curtly.
"Aye, Your Excellency. I have had warning to turn back! I know not what danger threatens, but I believe the warning to be sincere."
"You know this Indian, do you?"
"Not more than that he has rescued me from peril several times, Your Excellency. He was the messenger who came wounded to us that time I went up the mountain for him, to set the signal fires, last Fall."
​"Could it be Great Bear?" General Washington turned to one of his staff who had arrived beside them.
"But he would have waited to salute Your Excellency," answered the other shrewdly.
"Aye, true! This Indian, methinks, seemed not overly anxious to be seen." General Washington sat with his head bowed in anxious thought. So many times during those long, hard years of warfare must he have sat thus, in sad and troubled and silent debate, for always the burden of decision rested upon his shoulders!
At last, as his horse began to dance impatiently, he looked up.
"Forward!" he ordered. And the dreary climb recommenced.
But now Mehitable rode with every sense alert, her wide gaze searching out the depths of the forest. Nothing moved, however. There was no sign of ambush by beasts or men. Not until they had left the trees behind and were rounding the path approaching the base of a great cliff of trap rock did she relax, though, and then it was but a momentary relaxation. For soon her keen country-bred ears caught an odd sound, a grinding, splintering noise that just at first she was unable to define!
But when she did she gave a scream of terror and whirled her horse.
"Back! Back! The rocks. Down the trail!"
The whole party, as one man, wheeled in the opposite direction and fled pell-mell back down the insecure path. They were none too quick, for a few seconds later there ​was a tremendous crash, a thunderous sound that seemed to rend the lowering clouds themselves. And a greater part of the face of trap rock, loosened by the winter's freezing and the spring thawing, lay upon that part of the path they had been traversing, blocking the way as completely as an enemy breastworks!
For a little while Mehitable could only gasp at their narrow escape. Once again had the Indian saved her from a death too awful to contemplate, for had she or her horse been caught beneath that avalanche of rock and ice, had any of them been caught, death might have been only too slow in coming to relieve them.
The little party, beyond any danger from a further landslide, halted as by common impulse to stare back at the scene of the near-accident. Finally General Washington turned to Mehitable, a pale smile upon his haggard face.
"God is good to us," he said simply; "and Dame Nature has reversed my decision. We must take the other path over the mountains. Lead you the way, my little friend, and accept my apology for not having allowed you to decide before as to our route."
As she descended back toward Second Road, Mehitable was filled with admiration for the man who, hardpressed by treacherous foes, fleeing for more than his life—his country's hope of ultimate victory—could yet find the time and the broad-minded ability to apologize to the little country girl for having taken the guidance out of her more competent hands. Not a word of complaint, though he and his staff had ridden fast and far since dawn that day, was heard from any of them. ​Not one exclamation of dismay at their enforced return into the dangers of the lower road was uttered. Majestic though near possible defeat, courageous even though nature itself seemed to be trying to thwart their escape, the great general followed close upon Mehitable's horse and his men rode along single file behind him.
It was not until they had reached the junction of the Northfield Road with Second Road once more that General Washington spoke. Then he rode forward, abreast with Mehitable.
"Knowst whether we pass any Tory household on this road?" he queried.
"Aye, Your Excellency," answered Mehitable anxiously. "We pass the house of Amos Williams—that horseman who was riding the other way before—and he do be a very bitter partisan of the King! Though he was, without any doubt, on his vray to join those Tories already gathered at Squire Briggs's, seeing us, he may have turned back or he may have met the others and may even now be lying in ambush——"
The girl's voice faltered. Oh, if she were to fail now! She set her lips tightly together. She would not fail, she told herself fiercely!
They were traveling more rapidly again. The highway, poorly constructed as it was, was far different from the uncertain, narrow mountain trail with its rolling stones and the torrents of rain washing down its gulleys on either side which ever threatened an unpleasant bath if one's horse slipped. So that it was not many more minutes before they came within sight of ​Amos Williams's farmhouse. Instinctively they lagged a little, everyone trying to pierce the curtain of rain with straining eyes.
Mehitable caught her breath.
"Dost see aught, Your Excellency?" she stammered.
General Washington stared ahead of him.
"Nay, I think not," he said at last. "Forward!"
They drew closer together as they galloped on. The officers would have passed ahead to protect their general had he given them opportunity; but he did not pause.
The house stood silent and lonely at the side of the road as they neared it, but they all drew a combined breath of relief when they had actually passed it. Then suddenly, straight over the rail fence which fronted the dwelling, leaped a dark form.
As her horse swerved aside, Mehitable uttered a shriek, then another, as General Washington's mount, startled by this quick swerving, lost its footing and crashed down in a bog hole. But General Washington with an agility unbelievable in a man of his years, had leaped clear of the brute as it floundered in the mud, and throwing the bridle over its head he had jerked it to its feet and was again upon its back before the others could do more than gasp. The next instant Mehitable was laughing hysterically.
"It be only—only old Shep, Mistress Williams's watchdog!" she explained when she could speak. "He is more harmless than his master, in sooth!"
To prove it, as their horses danced and circled around one another, old Shep, reassured by Mehitable's familiar voice, sneaked rather sheepishly into his own ​yard and ventured forth no more. Then once more they were off!
The road began to lead upward, now, with the steepest part of the grade almost at the foot of the mountain. This meant that their horses would be winded before they had fairly started their climb, so that, despite every nerve urging her to put as much ground between her and possible pursuit, Mehitable very sensibly set a slower pace. But no one spoke. Escape was still too unassured to permit any light conversation or repartee between the younger men, and as they neared the base of another cliff of trap rock, which farther, back from the road, did not present much danger from an avalanche or landslide, yet offered a good place for an ambush, they all moved forward more and more cautiously. But no one molested them. To the girl's infinite relief the stillness was undisturbed by anything except the sound of the rain beating against the bare tree branches and the rush of the descending torrents in the gulleys.
When they arrived upon the mountain ridge, Mehitable turned sharply to her left to recover the Northfield Road above the place where the falling trap rock had blocked their advance. And at last they reached that point where, had it been daylight, they might have seen that the road, descending, led down the western slope into the Pleasant Valley and across to the Second Mountain. There General Washington stopped her.
"There is no more need for you to guide us, now," he said kindly. "'Tis straight west, now, is it not, over yon mountain? Ah, I thought so! And then on to Whippany?"
​"Aye, Your Excellency, and then on to Morristown."
"I see." He held out his hand and the young girl, guiding her horse closer to him to extend hers, he carried it to his lips in his courtly fashion.
"My dear little friend," he said in a moved voice, "I hope some day that I may have the opportunity to repay this service you have done us this night. And now, how can you get home? Had not Captain Mason better escort you?"
"Nay, Your Excellency!" protested Mehitable in horror. "'Twould be, perhaps, into the very arms of the Tories!"
And in her eagerness not to allow the young officer to be placed in any such peril for her sake, the girl touched her horse's sides with her heels and was off into the stormbound night, her long cardinal flung out behind her like a banner as the east gale caught it. The last they saw of the gallant little figure she seemed to be riding into the teeth of the storm, and as General Washington turned his horse to resume his journey he sighed.
"Much that is bravest in this war," he observed to Captain Mason who had spurred ahead of the other officers to bear his general company, "will ne'er be told. Mason."
"'Tis true, Your Excellency," the young man agreed thoughtfully.
Mehitable, meanwhile, found that, despite the climb coming up, it was far more difficult to face the full force of the wind as she had to in going down the mountain side. Besides, she was alone, no longer ​upheld by the presence of others. Far from being the undaunted guide, she was merely a tired, rain-soaked little girl, wearily anxious to reach home and rest.
Crunch! Slip! Crunch! went her horse's feet. Halfway down the mountain, three quarters of the way down—all the way down! Now she was trotting the last half mile. But arrived at her own gate she drew rein abruptly. There were twelve or fifteen riderless horses tethered there.
Slipping from her own horse and remembering how General Washington and his staff had so tied their horses that they could make a hasty escape if needful, Mehitable led her weary beast across the road and secured him, in the safety of the underbrush, to a sapling.
Her anxiety carried her flying to the kitchen door; but when she opened it, the world seemed to go black at what met her eyes. There, in the grasp of his Tory neighbors, stood Squire Condit at bay, his usually ruddy face a terrible gray-white from passion, his kind eyes blazing with bitter hatred, his trembling hands tied behind him like a common felon's!
Behind him, crouching on a settle, was Mehitable's mother with her arms around Charity, who lay motionless. Miranda stood sobbing in a corner.
"Charity is dead!" thought Mehitable, her heart turning to ice.
The awfulness of that moment was etched forever upon the girl's soul!