The Hidden Children | Page 7

man. So we thanked
him and strapped on our accoutrements, while he went away to the barn
to bring up our horses. And presently our giant rifleman appeared
leading the horses, and still munching a bough-apple, scarce ripe,
which he dropped into the bosom of his hunting shirt when he
discovered us watching him.
Boyd laughed: "Munch away, Jack, and welcome," he said, "only mind
thy manners when we sight regular troops. I'll have nobody reproaching
Morgan's corps that the men lack proper respect-- though many people
seem to think us but a parcel of militia where officer and man herd
cheek by jowl."
On mounting, he turned in his saddle and asked Hays what we had to
fear on our road, if indeed we were to apprehend anything.
"There is some talk of the Legion Cavalry, sir-- Major Tarleton's
command."
"Anything definite?"
"No, sir-- only the talk when men of our party meet. And Major
Lockwood has a price on his head."
"Oh! Is that all?"
"That is all, sir."
Boyd nodded laughingly, wheeled his horse, and we rode slowly out
into the Bedford Road, the mounted rifleman dogging our heels.
From every house in Bedford we knew that we were watched as we

rode; and what they thought of us in our flaunting rifle dress, or what
they took us to be-- enemy or friend-- I cannot imagine, the uniform of
our corps being strange in these parts. However, they must have known
us for foresters and riflemen of one party or t'other; and, as we
advanced, and there being only three of us, and on a highway, too, very
near to the rendezvous of an American dragoon regiment, the good folk
not only peeped out at us from between partly closed shutters, but even
ventured to open their doors and stand gazing after we had ridden by.
Every pretty maid he saw seemed to comfort Boyd prodigiously, which
was always the case; and as here and there a woman smiled faintly at
him the last vestige of sober humour left him and he was more like the
reckless, handsome young man I had come to care for a great deal, if
not wholly to esteem.
The difference in rank between us permitted him to relax if he chose;
and though His Excellency and our good Baron were ever dinning
discipline and careful respect for rank into the army's republican ears,
there was among us nothing like the aristocratic and rigid sentiment
which ruled the corps of officers in the British service.
Still, we were not as silly and ignorant as we were at Bunker Hill,
having learned something of authority and respect in these three years,
and how necessary to discipline was a proper maintenance of rank. For
once-- though it seems incredible-- men and officers were practically
on a footing of ignorant familiarity; and I have heard, and fully believe,
that the majority of our reverses and misfortunes arose because no
officer represented authority, nor knew how to enforce discipline
because lacking that military respect upon which all real discipline
must be founded.
Of all the officers in my corps and in my company, perhaps Lieutenant
Boyd was slowest to learn the lesson and most prone to relax, not
toward the rank and file-- yet, he was often a shade too easy there,
also-- but with other officers. Those ranking him were not always
pleased; those whom he ranked felt vaguely the mistake.
As for me, I liked him greatly; yet, somehow, never could bring myself

to a careless comradeship, even in the woods or on lonely scouts where
formality and circumstance seemed out of place, even absurd. He was
so much of a boy, too-- handsome, active, perfectly fearless, and almost
always gay-- that if at times he seemed a little selfish or ruthless in his
pleasures, not sufficiently mindful of others or of consequences, I
found it easy to forgive and overlook. Yet, fond as I was of him, I never
had become familiar with him-- why, I do not know. Perhaps because
he ranked me; and perhaps there was no particular reason for that
instinct of aloofness which I think was part of me at that age, and,
except in a single instance, still remains as the slightest and almost
impalpable barrier to a perfect familiarity with any person in the world.
"Loskiel," he said in my ear, "did you see that little maid in the orchard,
how shyly she smiled on us?"
"On you," I nodded, laughing.
"Oh, you always say that," he retorted.
And I always did say that, and it always pleased him.
"On this accursed journey south," he complained, "the necessity for
speed has spoiled our chances for any roadside sweethearts. Lord! But
it's been a long, dull trail," he added