home went maid sally, head down, heart full. she knew the whole story. what should she do? tell parson kendall, and let him fly to the rescue? then might the king's men interfere, and great trouble come to the good parson.
ah! she knew what to do. find reginald bromfeld, and let the gay troop pass that way on the morrow and release their comrade. that they could easily do, even should it take a little time.
she went home to her supper, and then, saying she would take a walk, started for the widow bromfeld's, about a mile away. when near the place she met an old colored uncle, and asked where she might find master reginald bromfeld.
[pg 221]"nowhar," answered the old man. "he done gone with young mars' sutcliff, mars' byrd, mars' spottswood, mars' norris, and mars' culpeper for bosting town, an' only de good lawd know whedder any ob em ebber come walkin' back alibe."
"when did they go?" panted sally.
"two hour ago, missy. for some reason 'bout gettin' guns, dey mus' stop on de way. but dey all gets to de big turnpike to-morr' noon. den dey cuts fo' bosting."
sally turned back, and, walking briskly, was soon at home and in her room. while it was still early she went to bed.
but sleep was as far from the maiden's eyes as though such a thing had never been known. her fairy prince had been trapped, gently it was true, yet trapped, and led off where he would be watched, and not be able to meet his friends until too late to join in the great battle they felt was near at hand.
"and he is at the farm of darius hinds, six[pg 222] hours from pamunkey turnpike," she said, as if repeating a well-learned lesson.
when she laid herself down that night, sally had felt almost sure that there was no help for her poor prince. the times were dangerous. to tell what she knew might make strife right in their midst. she was afraid for others, but never for herself.
as the clock on the stairs struck eleven, she heaved a great sigh. "if i could only help him!" she cried, softly, to herself.
"i will help him!" she cried again, "i will."
then she paused in self-surprise.
"what is there inside me," she asked, "that leaps up with such strength whenever i say 'i will?' and what makes me say it? have i strange, hardy blood in my veins making me want to fight? i do want to fight! they tell that boys twelve years of age are shouldering guns and rushing into battle at boston. a gun i would shoulder this very night and march forth to fight those redcoats were i a boy. i am but a maid of fourteen years, but something[pg 223] i would gladly do for my country, and, alas! for my fairy prince."
she put her red-gold head down on her arms, which were folded across her knees as she sat up in bed, and for several moments she neither spoke nor stirred.
all at once, as though some one had touched a match to a pouch of powder, up she started, her eyes wild with excitement.
"i have it!" she exclaimed, springing softly to the floor, "i have it! may i but have the luck i crave, and my dream prince shall go free!"
what she meant to do her red lips did not utter. but she dressed plainly and carefully, and from a drawer she took a piece of black lace and wound it about her head and over her forehead.
down-stairs she crept, and in the porch put on a long, straight coat worn by the parson when for exercise he worked in the garden, and on her head she put an old straw hat with a broad rim, half shading her face.
[pg 224]then she passed out at a rear door that was not locked, and walked into the road with a long, careless stride.
the colored boys were often thus seen going from place to place late at night. and with her goldy hair pressed under the dark lace, her face partly covered by the big hat, and the coat closely buttoned and reaching nearly to her heels, sally might well have been taken for a tall boy bound on an errand, or striding homeward from a late dance.
she made straight for ingleside, reaching it from the parson's at a point below the stables, and, oh, joy! she nearly cried out with delight.
hotspur was tethered in a square paddock, well behind the stables, sampson, or "samp," an enormous watch-dog who would have let no stranger approach, beside him. but samp she knew well, and quieted him with a soft word.
what made sally so sure that she could ride a great fiery horse she could not have told, but some natures there are so fearless and yet so[pg 225] sweet that animals will follow them wherever they may lead.
and when maid sally went up to hotspur and drew down the beautiful short head and patted and pinched the soft nose, then, letting down a couple of bars and pulling at the bridle, led him over the thick turf, the great creature followed with slow, silent tread as the brave young girl went out into the back road. samp went back as he was bidden, obedient as a child.
on went sally, her heart thumping lest some one should hear and sharply order her back.
at a little distance she led hotspur to a stile, and climbing up, still holding the bridle, she mounted without accident.
"now up and away, hotspur!" she cried, pressing her feet to the powerful sides. and up and away it was!
for sally neither drew rein, nor did hotspur once break his long, splendid stride until nearly an hour had passed.
sally had noted the direction from which the[pg 226] three horsemen had come in the afternoon. she knew also that pamunkey turnpike was almost a day's journey from williamsburg.
fully four hours must she ride before going half the distance. but the stage-wagon was slow compared to hotspur's fleet hoofs.
the meeting-house clock had struck twelve as she rode through the town, and now it must be about one. but a single help could she have to guide her, and she said to herself:
"well it is that parson kendall hath taught me somewhat about the stars. i must keep the big dipper directly before me or i shall alter my course. pamunkey turnpike lieth before me as the crow flies. often enough have i heard that."
as if her own voice was like company, she asked:
"now, good fairy, what must i do?"
and she pretended her fairy made answer:
"be wise. speak to no one unless forced to. poke a sharp toe against hotspur's side should any one try to stop you. if speak you must,[pg 227] let it be in the words and tones of the black people. this you could do very well. make a queer jumble of what you say, to confuse any who may question you."
and sally answered, demurely:
"all these commands will i obey."
then she laughed merrily, and hotspur suddenly kicked out his hind legs as if full of sport himself.
for two hours sally rode on undisturbed, then there loomed a great wagon she must either meet or hide somewhere to avoid it.
she thought it safer to ride to the back of a great barn and hide. but hotspur liked not being drawn up into the dark shadow. just as the wagon rumbled by he gave a loud neigh. up went a window somewhere overhead.
"who's there?" called a harsh voice. "answer, or i'll let out the dogs."
"say, mars'," called sally, in a shrill tone, "how far to parson kendall's, and how far to farmer hinds's?"
"you must be a fool!" replied the gruff[pg 228] voice. "parson kendall's lies way behind, two or three hours' ride. hinds's place is two hours ahead, straight along by the bushes, through the oak belt, and on by the river path."
"de bushes road straight on, isn't it?" asked sally.
"follow your stupid nose, and half an hour's ride will bring you to it. i say, whose horse have you got there?"
"yah! yah! dis hoss get me dar all right," cried sally, and hitting a heel against hotspur, she was off like a rocket, hearing nothing more.
but alack! five or six horsemen next approached on the lonely road, and there appeared no way of escape. the house and barn were far behind, nor would she have turned and fled. only open fields and meadows lay ahead.
then sally made a mistake.
she pulled a stinging sapling from a bush, thinking to give hotspur a smart switch, and so race by as the men came up. had she but known it, a gentle slap from her hand on his[pg 229] shining flank and a hiss in ear would have sent the proud animal bounding forward like a deer, exactly as she wished.
so fine a horse would be noticed anywhere, and men were abroad who would gladly have snatched hotspur as a rich prize, and borne him away where a great price he would have brought and none too many questions asked.
sally gave the men a wide path, but one called, sharply:
"halt! who goes there? in the king's name, who art thou?"
sally gave hotspur a wild cut from the whip in her hand. the spirited creature stopped short, then reared so high that only by flinging her arms about his neck did the maid keep from being flung to the ground.
"hotspur! hotspur!" she cried in his ear, "go on, oh, go on!"
aloud, she cried:
"oh, wot mars' kendall, wot mars' hancocke do if we gets late!"
"who are you?" cried another man, riding[pg 230] nearer; and sally wailed again about getting late.
"stop your nonsense!" sung out another man, trying to get close enough to the still prancing hotspur to clutch at the frail bridle.
maid sally made no mistake that time.
raising her arm, she gave the man's horse a cut across his face, which set him jumping madly, putting the others into a panic also.
at the same moment, sally cried in hotspur's ear, "go on, boy! now, now, hotspur, sh! sh!" and she patted his neck quickly but gently and pressed a foot against his side.
with one leap forward, hotspur was off on a hot race that sally could not control. she lay along his back, rolling from side to side, as hotspur, his fierce blood now up, tore by bushes, trees, pounded over a little bridge, dashed up one hill, down another, and only yielded to sally's soft calls as they came to a sleeping village and a clock struck three.
"i really haven't been one mite afraid," said the plucky maiden.
[pg 231]in another hour she felt that she ought to be near farmer hinds's. and she was glad to see a yoke of oxen lumbering along, a great covered wagon behind them. judging by his appearance, a colored man walked beside them.
furniture was piled in the wagon, and sally easily guessed that a family were about to move, and a servant had been sent on before daybreak with some of the furniture.
"i say, uncle," she called, pleasantly, "whar dat man hinds have his farm?"
"whar you get dat hoss?" was the reply.
"whar dat hinds live?" cried sally.
"you bettah get off'n dat hoss," said the provoking old man.
a little thin, piping voice, somewhere between the truck in the wagon, suddenly arose:
"just you keep right on, and purty soon you come to a hill, then a meet'n'-house, then a piece of river paff, and the hindses farmlands lies right ahead in the woods."
again it was a long stretch and a lonely way, but morning had dawned when sally and her[pg 232] brave steed reached a deep dell close to the hinds farmlands.
here she tied hotspur by the bridle, and finding long saplings, she twisted them into the bridle on the other side and so made the horse fast as she could to a stout but slim tree.
then she felt that the hardest part of all was before her.
"you must be brave," said her fairy. "you are tired, and excited, but wide awake. make no mistakes. remember, hotspur is close by. the fairy prince may yet reach his friends in good time. but beware. he is no doubt a prisoner. be sharp!"
