Then Marched the Brave

Then Marched the Brave

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Then Marched the Brave, by Harriet T. Comstock This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Then Marched the Brave
Author: Harriet T. Comstock
Illustrator: Anna S. Hicks
Release Date: June 30, 2005 [EBook #16156]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE ***

Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

[Illustration: _Frontispiece--"'I CAN SEE NO ONE BUT THE GENERAL,' JANIE SAID."
_See page 133._]

Then Marched the Brave
By
Harriet T. Comstock
Author of "When the British Came," "Molly, the Drummer Boy," etc.
_Illustrations by Anna S. Hicks_
PHILADELPHIA HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
MOLLY, THE DRUMMER BOY
WHEN THE BRITISH CAME
Fifty cents each
Copyright, 1904, by Henry Altemus

CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
ANDY McNEAL
CHAPTER II
A STRANGER IN THE NIGHT
CHAPTER III
THE CROWNING OF ANDY McNEAL
CHAPTER IV
THROUGH THE CAVE
CHAPTER V
A SUSPICION
CHAPTER VI
THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE
CHAPTER VII
ANDY HEARS A STRANGE TALK
CHAPTER VIII
AT HEADQUARTERS
CHAPTER IX
PEACE

ILLUSTRATIONS
"'I can see no one but the General,' Janie said" "Andy was at the oars now" "'Good day, my pretty lass!'" "Burr ventured a question" "It took all of Andy's courage to don the female attire"

THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE
CHAPTER I
ANDY McNEAL
It was in the time when the king's men had things pretty much their own way, and mystery and plot held full sway, that there lived, in a little house near McGown Pass on the upper end of Manhattan Island, a widow and her lame son. She was a tall, gaunt woman of Scotch ancestry, but loyal to the land that had given her a second home. She was not a woman of many opinions, but the few that she held were rigid, and not to be trifled with. With all her might she hated the king, and with equal intensity loved the cause of freedom. In the depths of her nature there was a great feeling of shame and disappointment that her only son was a hopeless cripple, and so could not be offered as a living sacrifice to the new cause.
Janie McNeal held it against the good God that she, His faithful servant, must be denied the glorious opportunity of giving her best and all, as other mothers were doing, that the land of the free might be wrested from cruel tyranny.
To be sure, Andy was but sixteen. That mattered little to Janie; young as he was, she could have held him in readiness, as did Hannah of old, until the time claimed him--but his lameness made it impossible. Among all the deeds of courage, he must stand forever apart!
Poor Janie could not conceive of a bravery beyond physical strength. In her disappointment she looked upon pale Andy, and she saw--she hated to acknowledge it--but she saw only cowardice written upon every line of the shrinking features! The patient blue eyes avoided her pitying glance. The sensitive mouth twitched as the boy listened to her oft-repeated laments. Janie had never seen those eyes grow steely and keen; she had never seen the lips draw into firm lines, or the slim form stiffen as the boy listened to the doings of the king's soldiers. When the neighbors came with thrilling tales of daring done by some loved one, Janie made some excuse for sending the boy upon an errand or to bed; the contrast was too bitter.
And Andy, sensitive and keen from suffering, saw through it all and shrank, not from fear or cowardice, but unselfish love, away from the stir and excitement and his mother's sigh of humiliation. He lived his life much alone; misunderstood, but silently brave. His chance would come. Andy never once doubted that, and the chance would find him ready.
And so he waited while the summer of 1776 waxed hotter and hotter, and the king's men, drunken with success after the battle of Long Island, pressed their advantage and impudence further, as they waited to see what the "old fox," meaning Washington, meant to do next. What his intentions were, no one, not even his own men, seemed to know; he kept them and himself well out of sight, and the anxious people watched and wondered and grew restless under the strain.
Now upon a certain July night Janie McNeal and Andy were sitting at their humble meal. The door of the cottage stood open, and the song of evening birds made tender the quiet scene. Suddenly hurried, yet stealthy, steps startled them. Was it friend or foe?
"'Tis from a secret path, mother," whispered Andy, catching his crutch. He knew the way the king's men came and went, and he knew the paths hidden to all but those who dwelt among them. His trained