Then Marched the Brave | Page 4

she
exclaimed. "If the time comes, Andy, you shall wear the cap. It will be
proof that I trust you. You will help if you can, won't you? Promise"
Andy."
"I promise, as God hears me, Ruth."
In the stillness the vow sounded awesome. The two clasped hands. All
the sting was gone. A great resolve to be ready to dare and die made
Andy strong and happy.
"Good-by, Ruth."
"Good-by, Andy, lad."
Out into the still night the boy passed. On the way back he saw Mrs.
White, but he hid beneath a bush until she had gone by. He reached
home, found the door barred, and so painfully reached his room by the
aid of the friendly vine.
CHAPTER II
A STRANGER IN THE NIGHT
That was to be a night of experiences--the beginning, the real beginning
of Andy's life; all the rest had been preparation. After reaching his
room, he flung himself wearily upon the bed. How long he slept he
could not know, but he was suddenly aroused by a sharp knock on the
outer door below stairs. He sat up and listened. All was still except the
trickling of a near-by waterfall, which had outlived the dry weather.
For a moment Andy thought the knock was but part of a troubled
dream; he waited a moment, then, to make sure, limped over to the
stairway and peered down into the room below. A candle stood on the

pine table, and, at a chair near-by, knelt Janie McNeal, bowed in prayer.
She had heard the knock, but not until the lonely prayer was finished
would she rise. That was Janie's way.
A second knock, louder than the first, sounded, and with it the woman's
solemn "Amen."
"Be not so hasty, stranger," she muttered, as she withdrew the bar;
"learn to wait for your betters."
The door swung back, and into the dim light of the bare room stepped a
tall man in Continental dress. His hat was in his hand, and he bowed
before Janie as if she were a queen. Andy drew back. No such stranger
had ever visited them before, and the boy gazed fascinated.
"Pardon me, my good woman," the rich voice said; "much as I dislike
disturbing you, I fear I must crave a few hours' rest and lodging, and
the service of one to row me across the river ere break of day. I have
been told that you have a son."
Andy quivered.
"A lodging, sir, is yours and welcome," Janie replied, motioning the
stranger toward a chair and closing the door after him. "I ever keep a
bed in readiness these troubled times. We are loyal to the cause, and I
would serve where I may. I have a son, sir, as you have heard, but, alas!
not one who can be of service. He is a cripple. However, rest; you look
sadly in need of it. I will hasten to a neighbor's a mile away, and seek
the service you desire."
"I regret to cause such trouble, but the need is urgent. I sympathize with
you in your son's affliction. It must be a sore grief to the lad to sit apart
these stirring times when young blood runs hot, and the country calls so
loudly."
Soon Janie was setting food before the stranger--good brown bread and
creamy milk. Andy saw the look of suffering on her face as she bustled
about, and he understood. He crept back to bed heavy-hearted. Ruth

was wrong; there was nothing for him to do.
The hot hours dragged on. Toward morning Andy grew restless, and
quietly arose and dressed. The feeling of bravery awakened within him,
and a dim thought grew and assumed shape in his brain. He could row
strong and well. Few knew of his accomplishment, for his life was
lonely and the exercise and practice had been one of his few diversions.
He knew a secret path among the rocks, which led to the river, and at
the end of the path was moored his tiny boat, the rough work of his
patient hands. Only Ruth knew of his treasure; often he and she had
glided away from the hamlet to think their thoughts, or dream their
young dreams.
Now, if he could arouse the stranger before his mother had summoned
another to do the service, he might share the joy of helping, in a small
way, the great cause.
"The need is urgent," smiled the boy; "in that case a lame fellow might
not be despised."
He recalled the stranger's face, and his courage grew.
"Chances are so few!" he muttered; "I must take this one."
At the first rustling of the birds in the trees, Andy crept down-stairs.
His mother's room and the guest-room both opened from the