Then Marched the Brave | Page 9

"Is it a bargain?"

"Yes;" the word came bravely from a trembling courage.
[Illustration: "'GOOD DAY, MY PRETTY LASS.'"]
The two knelt and began the search. Ruth pressed the bushes so as to
cover Andy's cane, but as her keen eyes fell upon the spot where it had
been, to her surprise and joy, she saw that it was gone!
A cry broke from her, for, as she realized that that danger was past, she
saw, near at hand, a plant so rare even to her woodland eyes, that it was
precious. Thanks to her learned father, she knew its name, and the
spray of waxen berries was her salvation.
"See!" she cried, "you have brought good luck. 'Tis a rare find. Now I
pray you, sir, name the berry I hold in my hand."
The man was searching the underbrush, and turned half angrily. "What
have you?" he snarled. Ruth knew that Andy was near, but no breath
was heard.
"Name the berry, sir, or I claim my advantage!" Ruth stood upright
with the spray in her hand.
"Wintergreen," ventured the fellow, wildly.
"Wrong!" sneered Ruth, "and there is no second trial."
"How can you prove me wrong?" jeered the man, coming insolently
close; "who is to decide?"
"Your head officer, sir," flashed Ruth; "lead on, I will gladly leave it to
him. After he has heard the tale from me--from me, mark--I will leave it
to him. Perhaps there is one gentleman in the king's troops. Lead on!
Why stand staring when your stake is so high!" A dignity and
fearlessness came to the angry girl.
"Do you lead, or shall I?" she asked.
"I--I beg your pardon!" cringed the fellow, "I will abide by your

decision."
"Go, then!" cried Ruth, her temper breaking bounds, "and if you are a
sample of my Lord Howe's men, I am thinking our General will have
but a short tussle. Go!"
The man retraced his steps, sulkily. He had been foraging on his own
account, and had unearthed bigger game than he could manage.
Ruth watched the man until he passed from sight. As she turned about
she faced Andy sitting among the bushes. She jumped, then laughed
nervously.
"How did you get your cane?" she asked.
"I was not six feet away." Andy's voice was strangely calm. "I hope
you know, Ruth," he faltered, 'that had things turned out differently, I
would have been with you. You know that?"
"Yes, Andy." A flush came to the pale face. "I think I feared you would
come more than anything else. But I do not trust that fellow. He will
come back. I know he was suspicious. Choose another way--next
time!"
"Aye, and I'll stop up this trail. Good-by, Ruth. Hurry, I will wait until
you are safe, and this passage made harmless."
For a few days longer Andy remained near home, not caring to run the
risk of seeking the longer path of which he knew, while the Britisher's
suspicions might still be alert. Once or twice he had met the fellow on
the public highway, and he feared to arouse any further cause for
watchfulness. He had discovered, also, that the man had gone back to
the spot where he had encountered Ruth, but Andy laughed, when he
recalled how cunningly he had hidden the trail. But now the boy could
wait no longer, he must try to get near the lines and listen.
Taking the longer way, he left his crutch hidden inside a cave-like
opening. He would never again trust the outside. Then in true Indian

fashion he crept along through the rocky passage. He reached the other
end and for an hour or more waited patiently, but only the passing of a
lonely sentinel rewarded him, and he guessed that no news would come
that way.
He dared not emerge from his shelter, for the day was too bright and
clear, the sentinel would surely spy him, and better no news than to
give away the secret of the passage. Disappointedly he crept back, and
at the other end put his hand cautiously forth to grasp his crutch. Then
he became instantly aware that he was discovered, for his hand was
grasped in a firm, unyielding clutch.
Andy's heart stood still. He had no doubt but that Ruth's annoyer had
dogged his steps and had captured him. But there was little of the
coward about Andy; he would face the worst. He pushed through the
tangle of leaves, trying to free his hand, but the clasp was like iron. The
captor was not the Britisher, but a man of quite another sort. He was
young, handsome, splendidly formed. As he lay at full length upon the
moss Andy thought he had never seen so tall a man. He wore velvet