The record-union., 1897-12-12

Suddenly he stopped. What was this
he was about to do? He was a soldier,
and behind him lay his post, the one
spot of all others which the Greeks
| would choose for their point of attack,
should they make it at dawn. That the
attack was contemplated he knew. He
| alone of all men, now that Rivington
was gone. possessed the fateful knowl-
edge. Floyd, though he had not neg
lected precautions was secure in the
belief that the Indians were far away.
only through Rivinston could the mis-
take have been corrected and now Riv-
ington was dead the secret was in the
possession of Amos and none other. The
nVes OF some 1000 men were in his
keeping. Floyd trusted him; his COM
RACES slept at ease, relying upon his
skill and caution; and now he was
ABOUT TO betray his trust, to sacrifice
| them for an end of his own.
Behind him lay his duty-hfs duty,
| Wherein till now he had never failed
Before him lay his hopes, shadowy un-
oehned, forlorn; for that he could reach
the Creek camp ere death, or worse
mad overtaken his Agnes was almost
beyond the bounds of possibility
But, slightly probable though it was,
there was yet the bare possibility: and,
Oh, God to picture her there alone,
weeping. despairing, praying, waiting
for the help that he alone could bring:
for he alone knew of her desperate po-
sition. He thanked God that she knew
/ not that he knew. He cursed himself
that he should hesitate for one mo-
ment between his duty and his love He
execrated the General, who held him
bound to his post by every tie of hon
or. He questioned to himself with bit
| ter emphasis what concern of his We're
the lives of the two thousand men be-
hind him, men of whom nine out of ten
| We're unknown to him, when the one
life, dearer to him than those of thou
| sands of millions of others, dearer to
him than all the world, was at stake
| Why should he hesitate? He was
| bound by no stringent military rule
He was but a volunteer, who had
Joined more for the sport of the thing
than for aught else. He, at least, had
no personal wrongs to avenge. He
had no quarrel save that of race, with
the prosecuted Indian. Not until now
And now Nemesis, following with swift
foot, had overtaken him, and Nature
was to avenge her slaughtered children
|
other points at which the Creeks might
make their attack? Were there not
other scouts besides poor Rivington,
who might have borne the news to
Floyd, who might even now be alert
and preparing? Were there not other
sentries who could and would give the
alarm as well as he? Might not, after
all, Rivington have been mistaken as
~ a
natural that, on seeing the Creeks in
force, he should suppose them about to
move to battle. But what less likely?
Their successes had not been so con-
spicuous as TO hold out much induce
ment to them to attack strong posi-
ton. Most likely they We're but
murauding party moving on. Moving
on! Moving away And bearing Ag-
nes with them The thought unnamed
him, and he sank to the ground, COW
ering his face with his hands
The brook babbled on to join some
mighty river, the breeze that followed
the advent of midnight began to stir
| among the trees; here and there the
notes Of night-bird broke the stiffness
| sharply; the stars looked down upon
him in their calm, pftiless fashion, and
| still Amos sat there, neither returning
| to his post nor moving forward to the
| succor of his love-sat there, inert,
helpless, unne1ved, struggling weakly
between the calling voices of love and
duty.
But the balance was all on the side
Of love; and, at last as out of the dark
ness, came a suggestion. He sprang
to his feet once more, tightened the belt
of his tunic. and, casting his duty to
the winds, hastened with swift though
stealthy feet in the direction of the
Creek encampment.
For a beam Of light had illumined the
darkness of desolation that sat upon
his soul, and in spirit he asked himself
why not do both? The Indians will
not attack before dawn in any case, for
the difficulties in their way are too
great. Long ere that I cam reach their
camp, perhaps save Agnes, and be back
In ample time to give the alarm. 1
can say that I found cause to advance
| and the news I bring will be my ex-
cuse for leaving my post. After all,
am not leaving it; am but extending
it. 1t is better for every one that I
should go forward"
He clutched at the thought with the
desperation of man drowning in a sea
of indecision; and. stopping no more to
argue with himself, went on as rapidly
as the darkness would allow.
Well for him that he knew the coun-
try. There We're landmarks visible to
him, deep night though i. was, that
few white men besides himself could
have recognized. There was the brook
upon the right; the great bald noun
tain, amidst whose crags he had so
often hunted, upon his left; the very
stars, Of whose names he was ignorant,
were as signal lamps to guide him on
his way. And so he pushed on and on,
| through miry swamp, in and out of
the deep pine woods, over the brook,
across the sinuous river by fords
known to few. until he came to the edge
Of a fringe of forest, beyond which he
could see multitude of twinlzling
lights And by these he knew that
his enemies and he should soon be face
to face.
He had judged Alright, it seemed. No
movement was visible in the hostile
camp, and it was evident to him that,
if an attack were contemplated, some
hours must elapse ere it could be made.
But SO far, all was quiet: and slowly,
cautiously as one who takes his life
in his hands, he crawled on, keeping
a wary eye for sentinel or picket as he
went.
But he saw no one heard nothing,
and as he moved along a great wonder
filled him. For the fires We're burning
low, and none came to tend them.