The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-03-12

ledFn al nrSt hands the cost 10 me OF my
1athers connection with the Regulators.
Touching this, l was not long kept in ig-
norance. OF all that vast demesne of Apple
Dy Hundred there was no roof 10 shelter
the son of the outla wed Roger Ireton, save
that of this poor hunting lodge in the
mighty forest of the Catawba overlooked,
with the few runaway blacks inhabiting IL,
In the intaking of an estate sc large that L
think not even my father knew all the
metes and bounds of il.
l shall not soon forget the interview
with the lawyer in which was told the IN
hOspitable truth. Nor shall | forget his
truculent leer when he limited that 1 had
best be gone out of these parts, since it was
not yet too late TO bring down the SEN
tenoe OF outlawry from the father to the
son.
1t was well for him that / knew not at
the time that he was Gilbert Stairs factor.
For For L was mad enough to have throttled
matching his long fingers and Sinking at
me with his evil smile But of this man
more in his time and place. His name was
owen Pengarvin. / would have you remem-
Der it,
For week and a day 1 fingered on at
Queensborough, for what / knew not, save
that all the world seemed suddenly to have
grown stale and profitless, and my life d
thing of small account. One day | would be
minded to go back to my old field marshal
and the keeping of the Turkish border; the
next would ride over some part of my
stolen heritage and swear a great oath 10
bide till 1 should come to my own again.
And on these alternating days the storm
OF black rage filled my horizons and | be-
shoal in this uncharted of wrath.
On one of these gallops farthest afield
CHANGED upon the bridle-path that led to
our old hunting lodge in the forest depths.
Tracing the path to its end among the
naples | found the cabin, so lightly touched
by time that the mere sight of ii carried me
swiftly back to those happy days when my
father and | had stalked the white tailed
deer in the hill glades beyond, with this
log-built cabin for a rest camp. / spurred
up under the low-hanging trees. The door
stood wide, and a thin wreath of blue
smoke curled upward from the mouth of
the wattled chimney.
Then and there l had my first welcome
home. Old black Darius-old when L had
last seen him at Appleby Hundred and a
very grandsire of ancients now-was one of
the runaways who made the forest lodge a
refuge. He had been my fathers body serv-
ant, and, Notwithstanding all the years
that lay between, he knew me at once.
Thereupon, as you would guess, 1 came
Immediately into some small portion of my
kingdom. Though Darius was the patriarch
the other blacks were also fugitives from
Appleby Hundred and for the OF
Roger IretOn there was instant vaSsalage
and loyal service. But best of all. on my
first evening before the handful of fire in
the great fireplace, Darius brought me a
package swathed in many wrappings OF
Indian-tanned deerskin. 1t contained my
fathers sword, and, more precious than
farewell was written upon leaf torn
from his journal, and was but a hasty
scrawl. | here transcribe it.
MY souI know not if this will ever
come into your hands, but it and my sword
shall be left in trust with the faithful
Darius We have made our ill-timed cast
for liberty and it has failed. and to-mor-
row l and five others are to die at the
ropes end. l bequeath you my sword-'tis
all the tyrant hath left me TO devise-and
my blessing to go with it when you, or
choD hnv he
true old blade in the sacred cause of lib
erty. Thy father, ROGER IRETON.''
You may be sure / conned these few
brave words till had them well by heart:
my eyes less dim, | summoned Darius and
babe him tell me all he knew And 1T was
thus 1 learned what L have here set down
of my fathers end.
The next day. all indecision gone. 1 rode
to Queensborough to ascertain, If so
might, how best to throw the weight of the
meaning to push on thence to Charlotte
when ] had got the bearings of the nearest
patriot force.
Twas none so easy to learn what needed
to know: though, now / sought for informa-
ton, a curious thing or two developed One
was that this light-horse outpost in our
hamlet was far in advance of the army of
invasion-so far that il was dangersomely
isolated, and beyond support. Another was
the air of secrecy maintained, and the
holding of the troop in instant readiness
for fight or flight.
why this little handful of British regu-
lars should stick and hang so far from
Lord Cornwalliss main, which was then
well down upon the Wateree, / could not
there were good reasons and sufficient. The
patriot militia had been called out, and was
embodying under General Rutherford but
a few miles distant near Charlotte.
I had this information in guarded whis-
pers from mine host of the tavern, and was
but moment free of the taproom, when 1
first saw Margery Stair and so drank of the
cup of trembling with madness in its lees.
She was riding, unmasked, down the high
road not on a pillion most women rode
in that day, but upon her own mount with
a black groom two lengths in the rear. /
can picture her for you no better than L
could for Richard Jennifer; but this / know,
that even this first sight of her moved me
strangely. though the witching beauty of
her face and the proudness of it were more
a challenge than reckoning.
A blades length at my right where 1 was
standing in front of the tavern. three red
coat officers lounged at ease; and to one of
them my lady tossed a nod of recognition.
half laughing, half defiant. / turned quick
ly to look at the favored one. He stood with
his back to me-. man of about my own
bigness, heavily built and well-museled. He
wore bob wig, as did many OF the troop
officers but his uniform was tailor-fne
and the hand with which he was resettling
his hat was ejeweled-overmuch bejeweled.
to my taste.
Something half familiar i'm the figure of
him made me look again. In the act he
turned. and then | saw his face-saw and
recognized it. though nine years lay be-
tween this and my last seeing of ii across
the body of Richard Coverdale;
SOL thought /. MY time has come at
last" And while l was yet turning over in
my mind how best to bait him. the lady
passed out of earshot. and l heard him say
to the two, his comrades, that foul thing
which | would not repeat TO Jennifer: vile
boast with which 1 may not soil my page
here for you
cried the younger of the twain; and then
I took two strides to front him fairly
''Sir Francis Falconnet, you a foul
Tipped blackguard' | said; and. lest that
should not be enough, / smote him in the
face so that he fell like an OK in the
shambles.
ITO Be Continued.l