Then Marched the Brave | Page 8

his head proudly and the new crown set not badly on his
boyish curls.
"I must go," he breathed. "I will come every day unless--you know,
Ruth?"
The girl nodded, and so they parted silently, Ruth pressing the old hat
to her aching heart, and taking up the woman's part in those troubling
times; the part of the watching, waiting one.
The days following became filled with one longing for Andy. The
longing for Washington's messenger. Unless he came soon, the boy
feared that he would be too late. During his own recent explorations
beyond the lines, he heard much that warned him that the British were
planning something of grave importance.
Andy had told his mother and Ruth nothing of Washington's anticipated
messenger. They knew merely that Andy had ferried the great General
across the river--was that not enough? Had they known for what the
boy was eagerly watching, they could not have done their own daily
tasks.
"He has an eager, watchful air," Janie confided to Ruth. "I am thinking
the lad expects the General to pass this way again. Lightning and such
happenings do not strike twice in the same spot."

Ruth smiled gently. "I do not think Andy walks as lame as he did," she
mused, watching the boy disappearing down a woody path.
"He is always on the go," Janie broke in. "He practices walking without
his crutch more than I think wise; but one can do little with men-folk!"
Janie tossed her head proudly. Andy was a growing delight to her.
"It may do him good," Ruth added; "he looks stronger and--and
gladder."
"He has gone beyond me," the mother sighed. "I--I begin to know, lass,
the happy feeling a mother has when her heart aches with loneliness
and--and pride! What ails you, lass?" For Ruth had started and given a
short cry.
"Why--why--" laughed the girl, "I am thinking my eyes are playing me
false. I was watching Andy up the path, and I saw him as clear as I see
you this minute--and then he was gone!"
"Do not get flighty, Ruth." Janie came close, however, and peered up
the path. "You and Andy will drive me daft. The path is a straight,
clean one; had Andy been on it, he would still be in sight. I'm thinking
he turned before he came to the brook bed. You did not notice, but your
thoughts kept agoing on."
"Perhaps," nodded Ruth, but Janie knew she was unconvinced.
On her way home soon after, Ruth began to ponder. Once clear of
Janie's observant eye, the girl turned back through the shrubbery, and
ran to the spot where she had last seen Andy. All was as silent as a
breathless summer day could make it. There was no side-path; no
broken bushes.
"He was here," breathed the girl, "and he disappeared like a flash!"
Then she knelt down and tried to trace footprints in the mossy earth.
"Ah!" she smiled, for there was a crushed space at the edge of a
brambly cluster of bushes. She quietly drew aside the branches, and a

look of wonder grew in the bright eyes. So cunningly concealed, that
even her native-bred keenness might never have espied it, lay a path,
and among the bushes, Andy's crutch! Should she follow? In the old
days Ruth would not have paused. But these were not play-days; Andy
might be upon grave business. Reverently she drew back, and replaced
the disorder she had caused among the parted leaves. Suddenly a step
startled her. She turned sharply. Up the path came a British soldier,
whistling a gay tune and eyeing her boldly.
More than once had Ruth encountered these most ungallant gentlemen,
and she was alert at resenting any familiarity, but a fear grew in her
heart now. Andy's path must not be discovered! She must do her part.
"Good-day, my pretty lass!" The man halted. Under ordinary
circumstances Ruth would have taken to her fleet feet at this, but Andy
might return too soon, and emerge while yet the enemy could discover
him.
"Berrying?" grinned the fellow; "August is early for berries, is it not?
The man was suspicious, perhaps, and Ruth was on guard.
"For some kinds," she answered, lightly.
"What kind are you hunting?"
"One that you British do not know," she replied; "it's a kind that grows
only in America and thrives upon freedom."
The soldier leered unpleasantly. "Come, I will help you hunt," he cried;
"if we find a berry I cannot name, you may ask what reward you
choose, and if I succeed then will I take a kiss from your red lips, eh,
my girl?"
Ruth darted an angry look upward. If they hunted, the cane would be
discovered, and yet if she refused--well, she must act quickly.