TOM STRONG 
 WASHINGTON'S 
 
 SCOUT 
 
At Q^ocnell Uniiietsitg 
 
 aittiara. ^. f. 
 
PZ 7.n,37§^™"""'««i'y Library 
 
 '''°'Jj Strong, Washington's scout; a story c 
 
 3 1924 014 518 926 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014518926 
 
From the painting by John Faed. 
 
 Washington at Trenton 
 
TOM STRONG, 
 WASHINGTON'S SCOUT 
 
 A STORY OF PATRIOTISM 
 
 By 
 ALFRED BISHOP MASON 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 
 
 '"''-^//.'Hll'^^' 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 1911 
 

 Copyright, iq". 
 
 BY 
 
 H^NRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 Published October, 1911 
 
 Q 2.ff (Jf 
 
 THE QUINH A BODEN CO. PRESS 
 RAHWAY, N. J. 
 
Beiitcatetr 
 
 TO 
 
 DON AND DONNIKINS 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Washington at Trenton . . . Frontispiece 
 
 From the Painting by John Faed 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Nathan Hat.e 78 
 
 The Statue by Frederick Macmonnles in City Hall Park, New York 
 
 Nathanael Greene 104 
 
 Washington Crossing the Delaware .... 128 
 From the Painting by Emanuel Leutze 
 
 Lord Coenwallis 152 
 
 From the Painting by T. S. Copley 
 
 One of the British Prison-Ships . . . . 160 
 
 John Burgoyne . . 176 
 
 Benedict Arnold 193 
 
 The Surrender of Burgoyne 210 
 
 From the' Painting by John Trumbull 
 
 Philip Schuyler 212 
 
 Anthony Wayne 243 
 
 Continental Money 247 
 
 Benjamin Franklin 248 
 
 John Andr^ 269 
 
 Francis Marion 274 
 
 Daniel Morgan . 282 
 
 Medal Given to General Morgan in Honor of the Bat- 
 tle of the Cowpens 289 
 
 V 
 
vi Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Alexander Hamilton 304 
 
 The Surrender of Cornwallis . . . 312 
 
 From the Painting by John Trumbull 
 
 MAPS 
 
 Battle of Long Island 17 
 
 Manhattan Island in 1776 51 
 
 Operations in New York and New Jersey, 1776-77 . 123 
 
 Burgoyne's Invasion of New York 177 
 
 Battle of the Cowpens 281 
 
 Operations in Virginia, May to October, 1781 . . 305 
 
TOM STRONG, 
 WASHINGTON'S SCOUT 
 
TOM STRONG, 
 WASHINGTON'S SCOUT 
 
 A Story of Patriotism 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "IT/'HEN the Dutch held Manhattan Island, they 
 dug a ditch up what is now Broad Street, and 
 lined both sides of the street with gabled houses, 
 short and broad like the Dutchmen who dwelt 
 therein. Market boats from Brooklyn and Long 
 Island were pushed up the little canal, and fat 
 housewives bought fat cabbages from these floating 
 markets. Then the Dutch flag came down, and 
 the English flag went up in the old fort where the 
 Custom House now stands, with our own Amer- 
 ican flag flying above it. Little by little the canal 
 was filled up, but the short, broad, Dutch houses — 
 many of them — remained. 
 
2 Tom Strong 
 
 In August, 1776, Tom Strong's mother lived in 
 one of them. Tom thought she was the finest 
 mother in the world. She was one of the finest of 
 mothers. There are millions of them. That is 
 why the world is such a nice place to live in. No 
 longer young in years, she was still so in spirit. 
 She was tall, shapely, vigorous. The two things 
 she loved most in the world, now that Tom Strong's 
 father was no longer in it, were Tom and her coun- 
 try. It was a new country, a wee bit of a baby 
 country. Perhaps that was one reason her mother- 
 love went out to it. It was such a baby that it was 
 fourteen years younger than Tom, and he was but 
 fourteen. It had been born and baptized only the 
 month before. Sometimes it was called " The Col- 
 onies." Sometimes across the angry ocean angry 
 men in England called its folk " the American reb- 
 els." But the English flag had come down in 1775, 
 as the Dutch flag came down in 1664. Instead there 
 fluttered from the flag-staflf a strange bit of bunt- 
 ing, which showed a rattlesnake coiled in a circle, 
 with the motto, " Don't Tread on Me." This 
 new standard had been shown in the trenches about 
 
Tom Strong 3 
 
 Boston the year before. Now it hissed its motto to 
 the winds that blew over Battery Park. And 
 when our story begins, it was flying over the rude 
 breastworks of the American army, breastworks 
 of logs and rails and earth and hay, beyond the 
 tiny village of Brooklyn. Washington was there, 
 facing with grim but hopeless defiance a great 
 British army, which had landed from the British 
 fleet that lay in the Bay, and which proposed to 
 crush the " rebellion " by routing arid capturing 
 that hastily-gathered, poorly-clothed, worse- fed, 
 half-armed mob of " rebels " which Washington 
 led. 
 
 Tom Strong was a sturdy, square-shouldered, 
 resolute boy, who had studied at school little more 
 than " the three R's " — readin', 'ritin', and 'rith- 
 metic — before his father's death called him from 
 the rude wooden desks of those days to the ruder 
 task of helping his mother earn a scanty living. 
 He had inherited from her his good looks and, bet- 
 ter still, his good heart. He met good and bad 
 fortune with the same smile. He was the sunshine 
 of the brave widow's life. Even his sports were 
 
4 Tom Strong 
 
 tinged with loving thoughts of her. When he took 
 down his father's flint-lock musket from the hooks 
 above the fireplace, and went off hugging the old 
 gun with rapture to " the Collect," a pond that 
 stood where the Tombs prison does now, it was to 
 shoot duck for the family table. He always 
 brought home a sore shoulder, for the flint-lock 
 kicked like a crazy mustang, but he brought back 
 ducks, too. When he strolled far afield, as far as 
 where Union Square is now, with pole and line 
 and home-made fish-hooks, he fished in the Minetta 
 brook for both sport and food. When he put off 
 into the Bay in a bluff-bowed, broad-built boat bor- 
 rowed from their neighbor, Ralph Alston, it was to 
 buy vegetables from some Long Island farm, which 
 he peddled afterwards from door to door to the 
 friendly folk of the neighborhood, who bought 
 gladly of a lad who gave them good stuff and good 
 measure at fair prices, and who, they knew, poured 
 all his copper and silver profits into his mother's 
 lap. These day-long absences in the boat were 
 hard for Mrs. Strong. She could not bear to have 
 her boy so long out of her fond sight. Though he 
 
Tom Strong 5 
 
 could dive and swim like a fish, she was far more 
 afraid about his daring the waves with sail, than 
 about his wanderings on land with rod and 
 gun. 
 
 On this radiant, golden August day, her love for 
 her fourteen-year-old boy and her one-month-old 
 country had to clash. For over in Long Island lay 
 
 ". . . the old Continentals 
 In their ragged regimentals," 
 
 awaiting the attack of their proud enemies; and 
 word had come from Washington to the tranquil 
 little town of New York: "We need men. Send 
 us every man and boy who can carry a gun." Tom 
 had brought the news to his mother. Ralph Als- 
 ton, hurrying towards the Wall Street ferry, musket 
 on shoulder, had stopped long enough to tell Tom : 
 " You mustn't join, my boy. There's plenty of us 
 without you. One more won't count. And you're 
 ' the only son of your mother, and she a widow.' 
 You stay home." But Tom knew where his high- 
 est duty lay, and so did his mother. If she had 
 bidden him stay, he would have stayed, but though 
 
6 Tom Strong 
 
 her eyes were misty with tears, her tranquil, steady 
 voice said : " I must give you to our country, Tom. 
 It is the greatest gift I can make, but I will make 
 it. Go — and God guard you." She herself took 
 down the musket from the great chimney. She 
 herself filled the powder-horn. She herself brought 
 out the bullets. She had made them of bits of the 
 leaden statue of King George, pulled down the 
 month before from its pedestal in Bowling Green. 
 She filled his pockets with bread and cheese. " Go 
 — and God guard you." And Tom went with sol- 
 emn rejoicing. It was well for him that he could 
 not see his heroic mother a moment later, when 
 she flung herself beside his bed, shaken from head 
 to foot by great sobs. It is harder for the woman 
 who stays than for the man who goes. 
 
 Tom ran as he had never run before. A boat 
 was just pushing off from the foot of Wall Street. 
 He sprang upon the gunwale and fell in a heap into 
 the outstretched arms of a gaunt, grizzled man of at 
 least sixty years, whose fur cap and buckskin coat, 
 whose big knife and long musket, marked him out 
 as a trapper from the wilderness of Western New 
 
Tom Strong 7 
 
 York. At that time the man who hunted the beaver 
 bet his life on the game, for the Indians hunted 
 him. And nowhere were these Indians more 
 stealthy, brave, and cruel than those who dwelt in 
 the " long houses " surrounded by stockades of 
 " the Six Nations " in the Mohawk and Genesee 
 valleys. Now the trapper was after bigger game, 
 f&r he had come to be a hunter of men. 
 
 " Well, ye jumped like a wildcat ! Lucky Zed 
 Pratt was here to catch ye, or ye'd have gone 
 overboard. A wildcat knows how to stop where he 
 lands, though. I'll teach you that, my boy, when 
 you and I have beat the Britishers." 
 
 " I reckon we've a right smart chance to have 
 them beat us." The speaker was a slab-sided, 
 weather-beaten man from Connecticut. His eye 
 was shifty. He was ill at ease. It was evident 
 that he was repenting the impulse that had sent 
 him towards danger. 
 
 " And if they do, what then? " asked Zed Pratt, 
 with a laugh. " It won't be fur long, I guess. All 
 a man can do is to do his best. If we all do that, 
 we can leave the rest to Washington. I fought 
 
8 Tom Strong 
 
 under him at Boston-town. There's no better gen- 
 eral under one of their red coats than he is in his 
 blue. He knows how to fight, and he knows how to 
 •pray. You just trust Washington. He won't let 
 us get into any trap. And if the worst comes to 
 the worst, he'll get us out of trouble. And he's 
 got a good Yankee general with him, too. Old 
 Putnam is quick as a fox and cute as a beaver." 
 
 " Old Put was pretty near caught at Horse 
 Neck, not long ago," snarled the Connecticut man. 
 
 " There's miles between bein' caught and near- 
 caught. He galloped down a hill a man couldn't 
 walk down, and he'll pay the Britishers now for 
 the scare they gave him then," chuckled Zed. 
 
 Tom laughed his assent to Zed's cheerful proph- 
 ecies, which pleased Zed. He patted Tom's green- 
 ish coat and said : " Son, ye've got the right color 
 in those clothes of yours. If ye'd been in the big 
 woods a year with me, ye could crawl into King 
 George's camps without their catchin' sight or 
 sound of you. D'ye know anything of wood- 
 craft?" 
 
 "No, I don't," said Tom, modestly. "I've 
 
Tom Strong 9 
 
 never been off Manhattan Island, except just where 
 we're going now. But I know every foot of this 
 part of Long Island." 
 
 " Do ye, do ye now ? " interrupted Zed, eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, sir; and I've learned how to be still by 
 fishing and by creeping up on the duck in the 
 Collect. And once I got close to a deer, way up 
 on Manhattan. I saw him a long way off. He 
 was to windward, and I crept right up to him." 
 
 "Did ye get him?" 
 
 " No, sir, I didn't. I just shook so when I fired 
 that I don't believe the bullet went anywhere near 
 him." 
 
 Zed Pratt chuckled again. " Ye had the buck 
 fever. Everybody has it once. It's queer that 
 when ye go man-shooting, ye don't have man- 
 fever. But ye don't." 
 
 "Did you ever shoot a man, Mr. Pratt?" 
 
 " More than once, son, but I always shot him 
 to save my own life. Now I'm going to shoot men 
 to save our country's life. That's better." 
 
 " Silence ! " said a low, stern voice. 
 
 The boat was just grounding on the Brooklyn 
 
lo Tom Strong 
 
 shore. A small fire smoldered on the sand. From 
 a little group of men standing about it there came 
 a young officer, almost a boy. He had a noble face, 
 a superb figure, the step of an antelope. He 
 repeated his command. " Silence. Disembark 
 quickly, quietly. Follow this man to your post." 
 He pointed out a figure in the darkness. 
 
 " I'm glad ye' re here. Captain Hale," said Pratt, 
 almost in a whisper. 
 
 " Why, Zed, my old friend. I knew we'd meet 
 at the front somewhere. Give me your hand." 
 And Nathan Hale, for it was he, clasped warmly 
 the rugged hand of the old trapper. 
 
 As they took up their long march in the dark 
 forest, which lay' between the landing-place and 
 the American intrenchments. Zed Pratt told Tom 
 the story of his friendship with Nathan Hale. 
 
 " He was a tiny, peaked boy, fifteen years ago, 
 at Coventry, in Connecticut Colony," said Zed. 
 " His father, the minister there, said he allowed 
 there was no hope of raising him. I had come 
 out of the wilderness after two years' good trap- 
 ping to Albany to sell my pelts. I sold 'em well. 
 
Tom Strong ii 
 
 All the world wanted beaver-skins that year, and 
 the Dutch and English traders at Albany bid 
 against each other. So, with money in my pocket, 
 I went to see a sister of mine that lived in Coventry. 
 There I ran across Nathan. My ! what a mite of a 
 boy he was. I don't care much about sleepin' un- 
 der a roof. Seems to take all-out-doors to let me 
 breathe good. So I used to go off on two or three 
 days' trips and sleep where night caught me, some- 
 times in a farmhouse, more often under a tree. 
 And Nathan got to going with me. It was amaz- 
 ing to see those thin legs of his carry along what 
 little body he had to carry. Pretty soon he began 
 to get strong. I taught him to run and wrestle. 
 Five years afterward, when I went again to 
 Coventry, he was a fine, strong lad, who could 
 outrun and outwrestle all the other boys at school. 
 We took to ramblin' again, and that did him good. 
 And he was so sunny-hearted and smilin' — always 
 saw the best there was in a man or a dog — ^that, 
 like everybody else that knew him, I just got to 
 lovin' him, and I ain't quit it yet. When he went to 
 Yale College, I got a sort of habit of sendin' his 
 
12 Tom Strong 
 
 father a few beaver-skins every year, so's he could 
 sell 'em and help himself pay Nathan's bills at New 
 Haven. 'Twan't much, but Nathan's never forgot^ 
 ten it. When he got his sheepskin (he used to 
 say my beaverskins gave it to him), and was A. B. 
 of Yale College, he took to teachin'. He was do- 
 ing that at New London when he heard of Lexing- 
 ton. Three days afterwards he was a lieutenant 
 at Cambridge. He took a lot of his older scholars 
 into his company, and he just went on teachin' the 
 young idea how to shoot, but in a different way. 
 Now he's a captain, and there's no better soldier 
 nor braver man in our whole army." 
 
 A sharp whisper, " Silence there ! " put an end 
 to Zed Pratt's prattle. He and Tom and Ralph 
 Alston were part of a group of about twenty men 
 who were bound for the front. Soon they were 
 halted by a challenge: "Who goes there?" The 
 officer in charge gave the countersign. They 
 passed on and found themselves at the crest of a 
 hill overlooking Flatbush, where men, and women, 
 too, were digging desperately, building a low long 
 bank of earth with a ditch behind it. Bunker Hill, 
 
Tom Strong 13 
 
 fought fourteen months before, had taught a good 
 deal of the science of warfare to the hardy Amer- 
 icans. There had been no Wind fear of the British 
 regulars since Braddock's trained troops fled from 
 the French and Indian fire (near where the fires 
 of Pittsburg now glow), and the Colonials had cov- 
 ered their flight and checked their foes. Nine thou- 
 sand men lay along the American line. Four days 
 before General Howe had landed 20,000 British 
 troops at Gravesend Bay, and now they confronted 
 the Americans in a semicircle that stretched from 
 the Narrows towards Jamaica. 
 
 Without waiting for commands, Zed seized a 
 spade. The others followed his example. 
 
 " I've dug many a hole to git a black-coated 
 varmint out," said the trapper. " Now I'll dig 
 one to keep them red-coated varmints out." 
 
 The work lasted through the night. Tom toiled 
 till every muscle ached. He thought of his mother, 
 he thought of Zed. And he forgot his pains in 
 thinking that they would think he was doing his 
 duty. Just after sunrise, when he was sharing 
 his mother's bread and cheese with Mr. Alston and 
 
14 Tom Strong 
 
 Zed, there came a great " boom " from the north- 
 east. 
 
 " It's cannon off there," shouted Zed, as he 
 pointed towards Jamaica. " They've got 'round 
 us. There'll be hard fightin' to-day." 
 
 The English had got around them. Under cover 
 of night Howe had turned the left flank of the 
 Americans, and was now attacking their side and 
 rear. At that moment there was a crackle of 
 musketry in front of them. Zip-zip went the 
 bullets as the American sentries ran back from the 
 British attack. Tom involuntarily ducked his head 
 the first few times that sound hissed in his ears. 
 It seemed like the call of a messenger of death. 
 
 " Ye needn't be so blamed polite as to bow to 
 every bullet," laughed Zed. " They won't hurt ye. 
 They say ye have to shoot a man's weight in lead 
 at him before you hit him. And ye're a chunky 
 boy. Crouch down now, git ready, and wait for 
 the word." 
 
 The sunshine glinted on the shining guns of the 
 Hessians as they marched up the Flatbush road, 
 well-rested and well-fed, upon the weary and 
 
Tom Strong 15 
 
 hungry ranks on the hill. Nearer and nearer they 
 came. The command first heard at Bunker Hill 
 ran down the line. 
 
 " Wait till you see the whites of their eyes. Then 
 fire ! " 
 
 And fire they did. Tom and his fellows were 
 drawn up in two kneeling lines, which fired 
 alternately, so that one rank could load while the 
 other fired. Once, twice, and four times they saw 
 the gleaming eyeballs of their foes, and saw the 
 British waver and almost run. But the charge 
 came on. The flanking army fell upon their rear 
 while the Hessians rushed their little breastworks. 
 It was a case of 
 
 " He who fights and runs away, 
 May live to fight another day," 
 
 but he who stayed would stay to be buried or made 
 prisoner. More fortunate than his general, Sulli- 
 van of New Hampshire, who was captured with 
 most of the command, Tom found himself flying 
 rather than running toward Brooklyn. Zed Pratt 
 had seized him by the hand and was jerking him 
 
1 6 Tom Strong 
 
 along with tremendous bounds. They slowed 
 down in the cover of the woods, and listened a 
 moment to the awful shrieks and sounds of a battle- 
 field. Except for an occasional fugitive tearing 
 through the forest, there was no sound from the 
 north, so again they started and ran that way. 
 Tom had a sort of battle-madness on him. His 
 boy's eyes had seen blood and death. He had tried 
 to deal out death himself. Sometimes he sobbed, 
 sometimes he laughed. 
 
 " Didn't I run as fast as you taught Captain Hale 
 to ? " he asked. 
 
 " Ye did very well for a first lesson, and ye've 
 brought your gun with you. That's more than 
 most" raw soldiers do. Well, it's first blood for the 
 Britishers, but they haven't got the Heights yet." 
 
 And, indeed, when they reached the breastworks 
 on Brooklyn Heights, they found order being rap- 
 idly shaped out of confusion, the broken ranks of 
 fugitives being re-formed, and muskets and am- 
 munition being served out to those who had aban- 
 doned them in their flight. Of the nine thousand 
 Americans, nearly eight thousand were gathered 
 
BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND, AUGUST 27, 1776. 
 
 From John Fiske's *' The American Revolution," by permis- 
 sion of Houghton Mifflin Company. 
 
1 8 Tom Strong 
 
 there, bit by bit. Zed and Tom were given leave 
 to join Captain Nathan Hale's company, which lay 
 at the extreme right, just at the edge of the hatr- 
 bor. Captain Hale gave Zed the warmest of wel- 
 comes, and took Tom into the command for Zed's 
 sake. Affection grows rapidly between men who 
 fight on the same side. Every fellow who has 
 played baseball or football knows that. You can't 
 help liking the boy who makes the winning run or 
 who faces sure defeat with grim earnestness, do- 
 ing his best as thoroughly as though doing it 
 meant victory. We cannot all win, but we can, 
 each and every one of us, do the best that it is in 
 us to do. Zed and Tom had both done that, and 
 they were as proud and fond of each other as 
 father and son, or grandfather and grandson, for 
 Zed was quite old enough to be Tom's grandfather. 
 It was soon evident that the English general 
 would not try to follow up his victory at once. 
 There was no sign of another attack. So sentries 
 were posted, much-needed food was cooked and 
 eaten, and as the moon rose the men lounged about, 
 those of them who had been in the fight telling in- 
 
Tom Strong 19 
 
 credible tales of it to those who had not. From 
 these tales it was difficult to see why the British 
 had not been wiped off the face of the earth. 
 Every talker had slain his score of Hessians. But 
 while the braggarts blustered, most of the men who 
 had done best kept still. The Maryland soldiers, 
 who, by common consent, won most of that un- 
 lucky day's laurels, were chiefly silent. Doing and 
 talking sojnetimes go together, but not often. 
 
 Zed and Tom sat on the hillside, looking at the 
 beautiful panorama of sea and shore displayed at 
 their feet by the rays of the moon, which was al- 
 most full. , Below the Narrows were the lights of 
 the British fleet. 
 
 " It's beyond me why those ships aren't lying 
 near town," said Zed. " There's nothing, to stop 
 'em but Colonel Prescott in his little fort on Gov- 
 ernor's Island. They could smash that with one 
 broadside. If they were just off town, down there 
 at our feet, there's little chance we'd have to run 
 away." 
 
 " Are we going to run away ? " asked Tom, won- 
 deringly. "What for?" 
 
20 Tom Strong 
 
 " Yes, we are," answered Zed. " At least that's 
 my guess. The EngUsh have about three times as 
 many men as we, and can, draw Hnes all around us. 
 If they once coop us up here, 'twill be starvation 
 and surrender, and what becomes of the United 
 States, then, my boy? You'll see that Washington 
 will get us into New York right quick." 
 
 At that moment a gay voice rang out. 
 
 " Planning the Commander-in-Chief's campaign 
 for him, are you. Zed? " 
 
 It was Nathan Hale. The trapper and Tom 
 sprang to their feet and saluted. But young Hale 
 smiled sunnily at them and said : " We'll just be 
 comrades now. I've always been proud to be your 
 comrade. Zed." He turned to Tom and added: 
 " And from what our friend tells me of the way 
 you worked and fought last night and to-day, I 
 fancy you'd be a good comrade, too." 
 
 Tom blushed and stammered, overcome and 
 shamefaced before praise, as a manly boy often is, 
 but Hale covered up Tom's confusion by going on 
 in his low, sweet, musical voice : 
 
 "If you're right, Zed — and I rather think you 
 
Tom Strong 21 
 
 are — ^after General Washington gets us safe on 
 Manhattan Island, we'll have to fortify Harlem 
 Heights and make a stand there. Now, I've been 
 thinking " — he cast a sharp glance (it was wonder- 
 fully sharp for such beautiful eyes) at Tom, hesi- 
 tated a half -second, and went on — " I've been think- 
 ing that when the British fleet anchors off here, 
 there'll be a good chance to cut out some supply- 
 ship some dark night, and make King George feed 
 our men. There are plenty of Gloucester fisher- 
 men in the Massachusetts troops. They'd be glad 
 to try it. If I get permission to try, will you come 
 too. Zed?" 
 
 But Tom could wait no longer. 
 
 " Oh, please, Captain, let me come with Zed. I 
 know every current in the harbor, and all about the 
 tides. And I can swim all day — and all night, sir. 
 Please let me come, sir." 
 
 There was a laugh as musical as the notes of a 
 violin. " Nightingales listen when Hale laughs," 
 said a classmate of his at Yale. 
 
 " You caru bring your boy. Zed," laughed the 
 splendid boy, whose twenty-one years of life were 
 
22 Tom Strong 
 
 to end on a scaffold within a month. No dark 
 shadow of that coming fate fell across them, but 
 another shadow did. They were sitting with their 
 backs to the moon. The silhouette of a cocked hat 
 and a superb shoulder showed in front of them. 
 Nathan Hale looked over his shoulder, sprang to 
 his feet like a stag, and saluted with his soul in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " General Washington ! Your Excellency here ? " 
 Zed and Tom heard him say as they, too, scrambled 
 to their feet. 
 
 His Excellency was a tall man, of a stalwart 
 build, regular features, calm eyes, in which light- 
 ning slumbered, a quiet, grave voice, in which, 
 nevertheless, there were hints of 
 
 ". . . the surge and thunder of the Odyssey." 
 
 But this was a good many years before either 
 Keats or Lang had written his wonderful sonnet on 
 the Odyssey, which, I hope, every reader of mine 
 knows and loves. If you don't, get down your 
 " Golden Treasury " or your " Oxford Book of 
 English Verse " and read, first Keats, then Lang — 
 
Tom Strong 23 
 
 and then thank me for telling you of their music 
 of thought and music of words. 
 
 The chief thing about His Excellency was a 
 certain stateliness, an overpowering presence, ut- 
 terly without self -consciousness, which set him 
 apart and above his kind. He was only a Vir- 
 ginian planter, a country surveyor enriched by a 
 brother's death, an aide-de-camp of a beaten British 
 general, the whilom deliverer of Bostpn-town from 
 another beaten British general, but there was that 
 about him which made him chief of every com- 
 pany. Much he missed of life, for no man dared 
 jest with him, but much he won of life, for all good 
 men revered him. Slander beset him; hypocrisy 
 tried to entrap him; envy stabbed him. But for 
 every bad man who belittled him, a hundred good 
 men hailed him as great. He has grown greater 
 with the ye^rs, which is the last test of greatness. 
 Napoleon shrinks nowadays into lesser letters than 
 he did a century ago, but George Washington is 
 writ larger now than in 1776. 
 
 " Captain," said the Commander-in-Chief, " I 
 want two trusty men to go to Manhattan Island 
 
24 Tom Strong 
 
 and gather every boat and barge on the North and 
 East rivers, and bring them here. I have brought 
 over two thousand men tp-night. The enemy will 
 hear of it, and will think we mean to fight a decisive 
 battle here. But as soon as it is dark to-morrow, 
 the boats must be brought here, and before sunrise 
 the whole army must be in New York again. Can 
 you give me the men ? " 
 
 " They are here, your Excellency. I will vouch for 
 Zed Pratt with my life, and he vouches for the boy." 
 
 Washington looked at the eager faces of Zed and 
 Tom. Then with one of his rare smiles, he said, 
 half to Nathan Hale, half to Tom : " But the boy 
 is only a boy. Where does he come from? If 
 he knew the waterside men of New York, that 
 might atone for his youth. But does he ? " 
 
 Tom started to speak, and then, overcome by 
 awe, stood silent. The General smiled again, en- 
 couragingly. 
 
 "Well, my lad, what is it?" 
 
 " Please, General — ^Your Excellency — I think 
 I've rowed or sailed in every boat on Manhattan 
 Island. I know them all. And I know their own- 
 
Tom Strong 25 
 
 ers. They call me ' Widow Strong's boy.' They'll 
 give me their boats — for you." 
 
 " ' Widow Strong's boy ' ? If you're like your 
 mother, you can be trusted. I saw her to-day. 
 We could not get cooks enough for the men on 
 the other side. She cooked for them all day long, 
 and refused a, doubloon I offered her. She told 
 me she had given her son to our country, and that 
 it was a much less thing to give herself. Would 
 we had more such Spartan matrons. For ypur 
 mother's sake, I will trust you. Take with you an 
 order I will write. If persuasion fails, we must 
 have the boats by force. Write for me. Captain." 
 
 Hale brought pen, paper, and ink from his tent 
 near by, and took at Washington's dictation an 
 order directing the officer in command on Man- 
 hattan to permit no person or boat to leave the 
 island for twenty-four hours, except with Captain 
 Hale's permission. He read it to the General, who 
 took the pen from him and put below the signature 
 which was to be so famous : 
 
26 Tom Strong 
 
 " Go with your men, Captain. If you fail, the . 
 cause of your country may fail. Good-night." 
 
 They saluted and he was gone. 
 
 " I never saw him close-to before," said Zed. 
 "Thank God he trusts us. He's the greatest man 
 there ever was." 
 
 " Or ever will be," chimed in Tom. 
 
 Hale's gentle laugh trilled through the air. 
 " That's the right spirit," he said. " Now we must 
 be off. Leave your guns. They'll be taken care of 
 for you." He beckoned a sergeant, and was about 
 to .give the guns to him when Zed Pratt said, very 
 deferentially : " Captain, I'd be lost without my 
 gun. I've carried it for forty years. Don't you 
 remember I always had it with me on our walks ? " 
 
 " And mine was my father's," said Tom. 
 " Please let me take it home." 
 
 " As you will, my men. Now forward." 
 
 He swung ahead with quick, rhythmic steps, Zed 
 and Tom almost running to keep up with him. 
 
 " How are we going to get them boats over 
 here ? " asked Zed. 
 
 " Never bother about that. The General is sure 
 
Tom Strong 27 
 
 to think of that, and to arrange for it. All we 
 need to do is to get possession of them where they 
 are." 
 
 They picked out a good boat at the landing-place. 
 The men in charge objected to their taking it, but 
 a sight of Washington's order swept away all ob- 
 jection. Hale took the stern. Zed, though he of- 
 fered to pull an oar, gave a grunt of satisfaction 
 when Tom said he'd do the rowing. So Zed 
 crouched in the bow, with the two guns, and Tom 
 pulled as he had never pulled before. 
 
 When they landed, Hale took them to head- 
 quarters, gave the Commander's order to the gen- 
 eral in charge there, and said : " It is ten o'clock. 
 You can have five hours' sleep. Meet me here at 
 half-past three." 
 
 But there was not to be as much sleep as that, 
 tired as Tom was. He took Zed to the old house 
 on Broad Street, where their knocking waked an 
 anxious mother and made her a very glad mother. 
 She hugged her son to her heart till he called her 
 " Mother-bear." Then she could scarcely be kept 
 from cooking everything in the larder for them. 
 
28 Tom Strong 
 
 They compromised on cold meat and bread. While 
 they ate it, Tom told her the story of the battle, 
 and of Zed's care for him; of the big Hessian who 
 tried to bayonet him, and was floored by Zed's 
 clubbed gun; of their flight; of their meeting 
 Nathan Hale; and of the glorious meeting with the 
 great General Washington. He kept stopping to 
 ask: "Isn't that so. Zed?" "Do you remember. 
 Zed ? " while the trapper smilingly nodded, and the 
 mother's tears fell at the thought of the risks 
 Tom had run. Then there was a prayer and 
 thanksgiving, and two minutes afterwards Tom 
 was so sound asleep that it was all Zed could do 
 to wake him at three o'clock in the morning. Mrs. 
 Strong had some hot soup ready for them. She 
 had been awake all night. Her heart was heavy 
 with fear for her son. But she kissed him good- 
 by with a smile, like the Spartan mother she was. 
 
 " Do your best, my boy. But must you go over 
 to Brooklyn again, yourself? " 
 
 " Yes, Mother dear. You know you gave me 
 to our country. The General told me you told 
 him so." 
 
Tom Strong 29 
 
 " So I did, my Tom. Take your mother's bless- 
 ing. And you, Mr. Pratt, take a mother's thanks 
 and a mother's prayers." 
 
 " I liked the young boy from the first minute, 
 Mrs. Strong, and I've liked him more every min- 
 ute since. But now I know his mother, I like him 
 more than ever. Don't you be worried, Tom and I 
 will take care of each other." 
 
 Long before sunrise, they began to gather the 
 boats together, but not in great bunches, lest the 
 enemy, spying across the river, should see and sus- 
 pect. They were grouped by fives. Each set was 
 put in charge of a Gloucester fisherman, for Wash- 
 ington, mindful of everything, had sent these hardy 
 fisherfolk from one of his Massachusetts regiments 
 to row the boats back. By nightfall, all was ready. 
 Before the moon swept away the darkness, each 
 fisherman started with his prizes. Zed was a 
 passenger in Tom's boat. There was scarcely a 
 sound from the softly dipping oars. But before 
 the last boats reached the Brooklyn shore, the first 
 were returning with the vanguard of the American 
 army. 
 
30 Tom Strong 
 
 During that anxious day, General Howe had 
 made two or three sHght attacks on the American 
 outposts, but they were mere feints. His scouts 
 had reported the arrival of the two thousand fresh 
 troops. He was sure, therefore, that Washington 
 meant to stand his ground and have a decisive 
 battle. Howe had learned something from Bunker 
 Hill. He did not mean again to charge breast- 
 works behind which those sharp-shooting country- 
 men lay. He meant to lay siege to the fortified 
 camp, to starve it into submission, to force a sur- 
 render at discretion, to send Washington in chains 
 to England to be tried as a traitor, and to return 
 himself to receive the thanks of all England as 
 " the conqueror of America." These were his 
 dreams that moonlit night, when he and all his 
 army save a few sentries slept. And while he 
 dreamt, Washington worked. The East River was 
 a bridge of boats. Regiment after regiment 
 marched noiselessly to the landing-place. Wood- 
 craft and Indian warfare had taught that noiseless 
 march. Regiment after regiment entered the 
 boats. The hardy fishermen rowed and rowed. 
 
Tom Strong 31 
 
 Before half the army had been embarked, a Tory 
 sympathizer managed to land within the British 
 lines to give the alarm. But he fell in with a picket 
 of Hessians. Their drunken officer could not un- 
 derstand his English. He kept him until daylight. 
 When he finally reached Howe, his tale was told 
 too late. The army had vanished across the East 
 River, taking cannon, muskets, powder, food, and 
 even its tents and horses with it. It was one of 
 the great retreats of the world. It made history. 
 It saved our country. 
 
 Washington sat with Nathan Hale in the stern 
 of the last boat that left the Brooklyn shore. Zed 
 and Tom pulled the oars. In after years, Tom 
 used to say : " He sat there still as a statue. He 
 looked through Zed and me, and didn't see us. 
 Just once he smiled. That was when he turned 
 to Nathan Hale and said : ' You knew your men, 
 Captain.' Then Zed and I were as proud as if he 
 had made us generals." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 T T was a fortnight before General Howe made 
 a move in the war-game. Zed and Tom, neither 
 of whom was regularly enlisted, stayed with Mrs. 
 Strong, to her great delight. Zed told tales of the 
 wilderness of Western New York, in which he had 
 trapped beaver and fought Indians, and of what 
 he had heard lay farther afield — ^the Great Falls of 
 Niagara, the rich valley of the Ohio, the Great 
 Lakes where the Canadian voyageurs had led the 
 way, and where the Hudson Bay Company was 
 now lord of life and death, and beyond them all a 
 sea of prairies whose ships were buffalo. He and 
 Tom did the chores, and tried to persuade Mrs. 
 Strong to let them do all the work, but they had to 
 admit her cooking was better than theirs. 
 
 Meanwhile Washington was fortifying Harlem 
 Heights and General Israel Putnam was in com- 
 mand of a few regiments in the little town of New 
 York. 
 
 3* 
 
Tom Strong 33 
 
 About eight o'clock at night, early in September, 
 there was a knock at Mrs. Strong's door. The 
 big brass knocker, a relic of the Dutch builder, was 
 gently raised and let fall. Tom opened the door 
 and peered into the darkness. Then he shouted 
 joyously : " Come in, sir. You honor our poor 
 house. Captain Hale. Mother, here is the cap- 
 tain." 
 
 Nathan Hale swung himself gallantly across the 
 threshold, bowed low before Mrs. Strong's sweep- 
 ing courtesy, and said : " The honor is mine, 
 Madam. But I fear your welcome were less 
 hearty, did you know my errand." 
 
 " Are you going to take away my son, sir ? " 
 
 " Nay, but borrow him, yes. Zed and he are 
 pledged to me for a little foray on King George's 
 supplies, which we would fain use to feed better 
 men than those to whom His Majesty has sent 
 them." 
 
 " Ye' re goin' to cut out that supply ship ? " asked 
 Zed. 
 
 " Oh, Captain, thank ypu for remembering me," 
 flashed Tom. 
 
34 Tom Strong 
 
 With a kiss from Tom, a hearty handshake from 
 Zed, and another profound bow from Hale, the 
 widow was left alone again, as the three were swal- 
 lowed up by the darkness. 
 
 " The Captain is a splendid man," she said to her- 
 self. " No wonder all the girls in New Haven 
 fell in love with him. But I would he were not 
 taking Tom into danger. Pray God he has only 
 borrowed him, as he said." 
 
 The English frigate " Asia " had come up the 
 Bay and was anchored not far from the Battery. 
 Colonel Prescott, at Governor's Island, did not dare 
 open fire upon her, for her guns commanded the 
 town, and one broadside would more than avenge 
 any hurt his small cannon could do. Under her 
 guns there lay two supply-ships, crammed to the 
 bursting-point with pork and biscuit for King 
 George's men. They were side by side. It was 
 the one nearer the Jersey shore which Hale had 
 persuaded Washington to let him try to take. It 
 was now very dark. A few lanterns gave a fitful 
 light on the decks. Two, sentries, who should have 
 been patrolling the upper deck, were hanging over 
 
Tom Strong 35 
 
 the starboard rail, talking to a bumboat woman who 
 was trying to sell them tobacco. The woman, 
 oddly enough, had a beard, but that was hidden 
 by a huge tippet wound around her (or his) throat. 
 And covered by a tarpaulin that seemed to have 
 been thrown carelessly Over the bow of the bum- 
 boat were half-a-dozen sturdy Gloucester men. A 
 dozen others were with Captain Hale and Zed and 
 Tom in a boat which cautiously stole toward the 
 port side of the supply ship, the " Queen." The 
 crew were all below, except for the officer of the 
 watch, a man at the idle wheel, and a lookout for- 
 ward. It was this last who first sighted the Amer- 
 ican boat. ' 
 
 " Boat ahoy ! " he called out. Instantly from 
 the sister ship and the frigate came the same cry. 
 
 " Orders for the ' Queen ' from the Admiral," 
 shouted Hale. 
 
 " Aye, aye," answered the officer of the deck 
 from the frigate. " Report here after delivering 
 them." 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir," answered Hale. " Now, boys, 
 pull," he added. 
 
36 Tom Strong 
 
 Swiftly the boat shot under the side of the 
 " Queen." The officer of the watch, the lookout, 
 and the sentries, even the helmsmjan, went to the 
 port quarter as Hale, with Tom close behind him, 
 came up the ladder. At that moment, the men who 
 had stealthily swarmed up the other side from the 
 supposed bumboat, threw shawls over the Eng- 
 lishmen's heads and had them tied hand and foot 
 in a trice, before, stifled by the shawls, they could 
 give a cry. Hale's plan, or half of it, had suc- 
 ceeded. So did the other half. For the hatches 
 were shut-to in a jiffy on the men below; the cable 
 slipped ; the sails hoisted by as expert sailor- folk as 
 ever beat to windward off " Gloster " ; and with 
 Tom at the helm, fully justifying his boasted 
 knowledge of currents and tides in the harbor, the 
 " Queen " bore ^ivay toward the Jersey shore and 
 up the Hudson. There were confused shoutings 
 below; then an angry outcry from the sister-ship; 
 then a far-flung order from the frigate, and a 
 threat to fire. But the other ship lay between the 
 " Asia " and the " Queen," and the latter, as she 
 keeled before the stiff breeze, was cunningly steered 
 
Tom Strong 37 
 
 so as to be under cover of her late consort until be- 
 yond the reach of the " Asia's " guns. Then she 
 tacked to the northeast, and was soon lying under 
 the guns of Fort Washington, which frowned over 
 the Hudson at about where One Hundred and 
 Eighty-third Street is now. Opposite it, on the 
 Jersey shore, was Fort Lee. Under the menace of 
 the land artillery, the British crew was readily dis- 
 armed when the hatches were opened. Then, 
 through the night, boxes and barrels and bags were 
 trundled on shore, that the rebels against George 
 in might grow strong on George's food. 
 
 " I'm off for the Philipse House to report," cried 
 Hale. " You may be sure the General will hear 
 how Tom Strong saved the ship for the good cause 
 by his steering. Take the ship's gig and row 
 home. Good-night." 
 
 " But, Captain, you'll give us another chance at 
 some fun, won't you?" cried Zed. "When will 
 we see you again ? " 
 
 " It won't be long. I need you both too much," 
 said Hale. 
 
 It was not long before they saw him again. 
 
38 Tom Strong 
 
 And when they did, he needed them more than 
 ever, for he stood on the gallows with the fatal 
 noose about his neck. And they were help- 
 less. 
 
 While Zed and Tom rowed towards home, 
 Nathan Hale threaded the paths that led to the 
 Philipse House, known later as the Jumel Man- 
 sion. It stands to-day nearly in its pristine beauty, 
 though shorn of most of its oldtime grounds, at 
 One Hundred and Sixtieth Street, on a bluff over- 
 looking the busy city which has rolled its waves of 
 brick to the foot of the bluff and far beyond it. 
 The picturesque City Hall of Yonkers, which you 
 should surely see the next time motor or bicycle car- 
 ries you northward, is the old Philipse Manor- 
 House, but its owner, rich in lands, would be rich 
 in houses too, so he builded him this stately home. 
 His daughter, the bewitching Mary Philipse, was 
 wooed there by Washington before the Revolution, 
 and wooed in vain. She was harder to please than 
 the Widow Martha Custis proved to be. Now she 
 had fled beyond seas with her Tory husband, and 
 Washington was supreme in war where he had 
 
Tom Strong 39 
 
 sued in vain for a woman's favor. Sentries were 
 posted about the grounds. A guard of cavalry- 
 men had pitched their tents on the lawn. Despite 
 the lateness of the hour, lights flashed from the 
 ground-floor, where Washington sat, dictating a 
 " Memorial to the Congress " to one of his favorite 
 aide-de-camps, young Alexander Hamilton. Nathan 
 Hale was ushered in. Washington was in his 
 mature prime; Hamilton had the frail West Indian 
 physique; Hale was a beautiful model of vigorous 
 young manhood. Yet his death was but eleven 
 days distant. Washington was to live twice as 
 many years. Hamilton, crowned with honors, was 
 to leave his country home. The Grange, still stand- 
 ing near One Hundred and Forty-second Street, 
 three blocks from its original site, in twenty-eight 
 years; was to be rowed across the Hudson; was 
 there to be shot to death in a duel by that same 
 Aaron Burr, Vice-President of the United States, 
 who was to wed the Widow Jumel, and spend his 
 brief life with her in this very house. The 
 mansion has been saved for us by the Daughters 
 of the American Revolution. 
 
40 Tom Strong 
 
 Nathan Hale, in reporting the result of his foray, 
 did not forget his boy-friend. 
 
 " We were saved by our steersman. Without 
 him, the pork and hard-tack would still be His 
 Majesty's instead of Your Excellency's, or else at 
 the bottom of the Bay. Does Your Excellency 
 perchance remember Tom Strong, a boy you sent 
 with me and an old trapper, to gather the boats 
 on Manhattan Island?" 
 
 " ' The only son of his mother and she a 
 widow,' " quoted Washington. " I remember him 
 and her. A splendid mother and a promising lad." 
 
 "I hope," said Hale, diffidently, "the boy will 
 enlist in my company. I mean to look out for him. 
 He has a future. H the fortunes of war let me die 
 for my country, I would leave him to her as my 
 legacy." 
 
 " I will myself keep an eye upon him," said the 
 General, " if God permit. Enlist him by all means. 
 But at present I have something for you to do in 
 which neither he nor any one can aid you. We need 
 exact information of the enemy's forces and posts 
 on Long Island. Will you be our country's spy ? " 
 
Tom Strong 41 
 
 Hale's rosy face grew red at the name of " spy," 
 but his blue eyes were firm. After a moment's hes- 
 itation, he said : " I will do anything for my coun- 
 try, anything for Your Excellency. But if shame 
 comes to me, if — if — the rope ends what I would 
 gladly give to bullets on a victorious field, if I am 
 remembered (if at all) only as a spy, let me live 
 in Your Excellency's memory as something more 
 and better." 
 
 " I hope I am not sending you to death, but I 
 may be. But there will not be shame. He who 
 dies for his country dies nobly, whatever the form 
 of death may be." 
 
 " Captain," said Hamilton, " I envy you your 
 errand. I have besought His Excellency to let me 
 go. We may not ask what his plans are, but well 
 I know that some great stroke will follow your 
 return with your news. For you will return. I 
 feel it, I know it. Your orders are here. I will 
 not say good-by. It is ' until we meet again.' " 
 
 The young men shook hands heartily. Hale 
 saluted the Commander-in-Chief, backed respect- 
 fully to the door, opened it, and went out, his first 
 
42 Tom Strong 
 
 step towards the gallows which became the pedestal 
 of his fame. 
 
 On that same day Lord Howe had his historic 
 interview with the three delegates from Congress. 
 Lord Howe was then Vice Admiral. He was also 
 delegated by George HI to treat with the " rebels." 
 It was his brother. Sir William Howe, who was the 
 British General in command of the army of in- 
 vasion. After the battle of Long Island, Lord 
 Howe sent Sullivan, the captured American Gen- 
 eral, to ask Congress to name delegates to meet him. 
 Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania, John Adams 
 of Massachusetts, and Edward Rutledge of South 
 Carolina, were named. They came from Phila- 
 delphia by stage-coach to Amboy, and crossed by 
 water to the Billopp IJouse, which still stands on 
 the water's edge of Staten Island, half a mile 
 south of Perth Amboy, in the village of Tottenville. 
 It is of rough-hewn stone, partly coated with plas- 
 ter, a story and a half high,^ with lofty pillars sup- 
 porting the roof of a stately piazza that runs the 
 length of the house. Lord Howe met them as they 
 landed. Adams writes : " We walked up to the 
 
Tom Strong 43 
 
 house between lines of grenadiers looking fierce as 
 the Furies, and making all the grimaces and 
 gestures and motions of their muskets which (I 
 suppose) military etiquette requires, but which we 
 neither understood nor regarded." Howe had pre- 
 pared for them a hearty luncheon of bread, claret, 
 cold ham, tongue, and mutton. The floor of the 
 room was covered with moss and green sprigs. A 
 band played for them. Howe's arguments for sur- 
 render were in vain. He offered a general am- 
 nesty, concealing the fact that John Adams him- 
 self was the one man especially exempted from 
 pardon, and was to be sent to England in irons. 
 When he did go to England, by the way, he went 
 as our first Minister to the mother-country. After- 
 wards he became our second President. Losing 
 patience a bit, Howe said : 
 
 " If America were overwhelmed, I would lament 
 its ruin like a brother's loss." 
 
 " My colleagues and I," quoth Franklin, " will 
 do our utmost endeavors to save Your Lordship 
 that mortification." 
 
 The conference broke up without result; Lord 
 
44 Tom Strong 
 
 Howe returned to his flagship to hear of the loss 
 of the "Queen"; and four days afterwards Sir 
 Wilham Howe transferred his twenty thousand 
 veterans from Brooklyn to the foot of East Thirty- 
 fourth Street. As the first boats left the Long 
 Island shore, Colonel Prescott evacuated Gov- 
 ernor's Island, and General Putnam gathered up 
 his soldiers in New York. The combined forces 
 marched quickly northward to join Washington on 
 Harlem Heights. 
 
 That was General Howe's chance. If he had 
 marched swiftly across the island, he could have 
 intercepted and bagged Putnam and Prescott and 
 all their men. A boy of fourteen, in a greenish 
 coat, was lounging on the shore with other idlers, 
 apparently drawn thither by mere curiosity, when 
 Howe landed. The General asked for a guide. 
 
 " Mrs. Murray told me to ask you and the other 
 officers to lunch with her," said the boy of the 
 greenish coat. " That is the way to her house." 
 He waved his hand to the west, where a lane wan^ 
 dered into the interior. 
 
 " Well, that's the way we want to go," said the 
 
Tom Strong 45 
 
 General, "and luncheon . sounds pretty good. Eh! 
 Cunningham? " 
 
 A burly and brutal officer answered : " You'll 
 think so when you taste Mrs. Murray's punch, Gen- 
 eral. 'Tis a famous brew." 
 
 " Tell Mrs. Murray we accept with gratitude, 
 and will be there anon. It's pleasant to have so 
 loyal a greeting." 
 
 Now Mrs. Murray, whose house was on the east- 
 ern slope of Murray Hill, was not a loyalist, and 
 had sent no invitation to the English officers. But 
 Zed Pratt had said to Tom : " Hurry up to where 
 they're crossing, Tom. Put yourself in the way of 
 General Howe, offer to guide him. Lead him 
 astray or delay him, if they kill you for it. It's 
 the one chance to save Putnam." 
 
 And Tom, in that long run northward, puzzling 
 his brain with what to do, had seen the fine old 
 Murray House across the meadows, and had 
 thought of a way. Now again he ran like a deer. 
 The thunderous clang of the knocker brought Mrs. 
 Murray herself to the door, for it was an anxious 
 day. 
 
46 Tom Strong 
 
 " I — I — heg your pardon, Mrs. Murray, but I 
 told General Howe you wanted him and the other 
 officers to lunch with you and " 
 
 " To lunch with me ? Are you mad, boy ? 
 What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, you must, you must, Mrs. Murray ! Zed 
 Pratt says — ^you don't know him, but he's the wisest 
 man in the world except General Washington and 
 Captain Hale and " 
 
 " And what does your wonderful Mr. Pratt 
 say? " queried Mrs. Murray, gently. She saw there 
 was something beneath this queer invitation given 
 in her name without her knowledge. 
 
 " He says if the British keep straight on, they'll 
 capture Putnam and his men. They must be de- 
 layed," cried Tom, in an agony of impatience. 
 " Please give them lunch, and lots of it. Make 
 them stay. You're a lady, and you know what 
 to do. I'm only a boy, but I've done what I 
 could." 
 
 " Yes, you have, and you have done well. 
 Luncheon shall be ready — no, it shan't be ready: 
 they must wait for it. Simeon, bring Madeira, 
 
Tom Strong 47 
 
 plenty of it, from the ' Sally Jane ' bin, and put it 
 on the table here on the piazza. Tell Sukey to 
 have luncheon for a dozen in an hour — not a min- 
 ute sooner, do you hear? And make a punch, 
 Simeon. Make it strong. Send two or three 
 negroes here to hold the officers' horses. General 
 Howe will lunch with us." 
 
 " De Britisher? Why, Miss Jinny ! " 
 
 " Oh, you don't understand, Simeon. We want 
 to delay them. We can do it if we feed them well. 
 Hurry! Hurry! " 
 
 " May I stay and help serve them, Mrs. Mur- 
 ray? They think I'm your servant, so they won't 
 be surprised to see me here, and I may learn some- 
 thing from their talk." 
 
 " Yes, stay. You have a right to stay, for it's 
 your party, you know. You gave the invitation. 
 And I'm glad you did." 
 
 She smiled and swept away into the house to 
 make ready for the guests Tom had thrust upon 
 her. He went around to the kitchen, got water 
 and soap, a towel and brushes, and put himself into 
 such order as he could. Then he listened intently. 
 
48 Tom Strong 
 
 There was no sound of Putnam's men, though the 
 Bloomingdale Road, up which they were expected 
 to march, was but a few hundred yards away. He 
 ran to the summit of Murray Hill, but they were 
 nowhere in sight.- He came back just in time to 
 hold General Howe's horse, while that warrior, as 
 scarlet in face as in uniform, slowly dismounted. 
 
 Mrs. Murray swept him a magnificent courtesy 
 on the piazza, as he bowed at the foot of the steps, 
 cocked hat in hand, a cloud of powder falling from 
 his hair. 
 
 " Your servant. Madam. I am most indebted to 
 you, I and my officers, for your loyal hospi- 
 tality." 
 
 " It is thy duty as it is my pleasure. Sir William, 
 to welcome you." 
 
 " Faith, some of your rebel countrymen wel- 
 comed us on Long Island rather too warmly, Mrs. 
 Murray. I'd rather be greeted by your Madeira 
 than by their muskets. But we'll end this little re- 
 bellion soon, Madam." 
 
 " Let us drink a toast to its happy ending, Sir 
 William. Will you not join us, gentlemen? " She 
 
Tom Strong 49 
 
 turned with a gracious smile to the other officers, 
 who were now crowding up the steps. 
 
 A scene of foolish revelry followed. Toast 
 after toast, full of braggadocio and of bullying 
 contempt for the patriot army, was drunk. Tom, 
 who was filling the glasses, had all he could do. 
 Once a young officer ventured to say : " Sir Will- 
 iam, do you wish part of the forces pushed for- 
 ward to the Hudson? Perhaps we could 
 catch " 
 
 " Catch nobody, sir. Putnam slipped north- 
 ward, scared to death, three hours ago. That fel- 
 low over there was caught near the landing, and 
 told us about it." 
 
 Tom glanced at " that fellow over there," started 
 in surprise, and dropped the glass he was filling. It 
 was Zed Pratt, under guard a few yards off. A 
 grenadier with fixed bayonet stood on either side 
 of him. His eyes met Tom's without a shade of 
 expression, and Tom, quick to see that his cue was 
 not to know Zed, poured another glass for the 
 British colonel, who was angrily calling him " a 
 clumsy Yankee hound." The insult rankled. Tom 
 
50 Tom Strong 
 
 would remember that colonel if he met him again. 
 
 " Perhaps the trapper lied, General," persisted 
 the young officer. 
 
 "•He's too stupid to he," said Sir William. 
 " Look at him." And, indeed, Zed's face expressed 
 only a loutish stupidity, nothing more. " He says 
 he's a good Tory, a rebel only under compulsion, 
 but I'm not so sure. When I've time to attend to 
 him, I may have him hung, just to encourage the 
 others." 
 
 There was a loud laugh over .the brutal jest, but 
 
 the young officer went on : " But, Sir William " 
 
 • " You. forget yourself, my young sir. We'll 
 march when I am ready, not when you are. Just 
 now, we've something better to do. Let us hope 
 the punch is as good as the Madeira." 
 
 For Simeon had just come out of the house, 
 
 staggering under an enormous punch-bowl, which 
 
 he put down on the table, while Tom brandished 
 
 , a mighty ladle and rapidly filled a score of fresh 
 
 glasses. 
 
 Washington had ridden down from Harlem 
 Heights that morning, with two raw brigades from 
 
52 Tom Strong 
 
 New England, to make a feint of opposing Howe's 
 landing, and to delay him until Putnam could slip 
 by. But the raw regiments, smitten by one of those 
 sudden panics that often seize untrained soldiery, 
 had broken and fled at the first sight of the British 
 grenadiers. Washington himself was almost cap- 
 tured. Zed Pratt, far in front, confident of sup- 
 port behind, found himself cut off and seized. The 
 trapper, was trapped. But he had hid his precious 
 musket before he threw up his arms and shouted, 
 " I surrender," just in time to keep his captors' 
 bayonets from being plunged into his breast. His 
 quick wit saw a way to serve his cause, even then. 
 Hurried before Howe, he had pleaded that he was 
 a Tory, conscripted and forced to fight, and had 
 stoutly asserted that the fleeing New Englanders, 
 now safe from pursuit, were the rearguard of Put- 
 nam's army, detached to cover the retreat of " Old 
 Put " and his men, who had, he said, already passed 
 northward. He told a graphic story of an alleged 
 meeting of Putnam and Washington at that point 
 on the Bloomingdale Road (the Broadway of to- 
 day), where now is Times Square. Oddly enough, 
 
Tom Strong 53 
 
 it was just at that point that the two American 
 Generals did meet, later, when Tom's stratagem had 
 succeeded with Mrs. Murray's aid. For while 
 the English officers were seated at the Murray table, 
 eating as heartily as they had drunk, and drinking 
 again, " Old Put " led his forces barely half a 
 mile away to safety. Murray Hill, then densely 
 wooded, cut off all view of the escape. When the 
 long lunch was ended, the whole American army 
 was well on its way to Harlem Heights. 
 
 Flushed of face and loud of speech. General 
 Howe walked rather unsteadily out on the piazza 
 and said : " Before we say good-by to our gracious 
 hostess, whose loyalty to His Majesty is so evident 
 and so delightful, we may as well have a little bear- 
 baiting, with that old trapper as bear. Bring him 
 up here. That big tree yonder will make a good 
 gallows, if need be." 
 
 But there was no trapper in sight. Zed and Tom 
 and the two grenadiers had vanished. There was 
 angry questioning, and an angry search, which 
 latter ended in the discovery of the two soldiers in 
 one of the outhouses of the mansion, tied hand 
 
54 Tom Strong 
 
 and foot in a masterly fashion, and deftly gagged 
 with their own bayonets. Their muskets, broken 
 and useless, lay beside them. 
 
 This is what had happened. When the officers 
 trooped into the house, Tom had taken two glasses 
 of the punch to the grenadiers guarding Zed. He 
 did this with a vague hope of helping Zed escape, 
 though how it would help him he had not the least 
 idea. But Zed had. As the two soldiers, their 
 muskets dropped beside them and resting in the hol- 
 low of each man's left arm, lifted the punch greedily 
 to their lips. Zed, who stood between them, threw 
 his arms around them like lightning and crashed 
 their heads together. Half a century of clean 
 life in the open air had given him a giant's strength. 
 He used it all. Crack! and the sense went out of 
 his foes. When they came back to consciousness, 
 they were in a dark room, unable to make a move- 
 ment or utter a sound. Zed had sprung like a 
 leopard on one of them, gagging him instantly. 
 Tom had tried to imitate him, but was still fumbling 
 with awkward fingers when the trapper pushed him 
 aside and finished the job. Swiftly they carried 
 
Tom Strong 55 
 
 them, one after the other, to the laundry. Swiftly 
 they wove about them the clothes-lines hanging 
 there, pulling hard the intricate knots Tom as a 
 sailor had learned to make. Swiftly they smashed 
 the muskets they did not dare to carry with them. 
 And swiftly they darted northward along the 
 wooded slopes of Murray Hill, while a loud hunt- 
 ing chorus rang out from the dining-room : 
 
 " Hark ! Hallo ! Stole away ! Stole away ! ! " 
 
 For over a mile they ran without a sound, the 
 trapper setting such a terrible pace that Tom's 
 heartbeats sounded to the boy like drumbeats. Then 
 Zed threw himself on the ground amid the 
 trees and underbrush of what is now Central 
 Park. Tom dropped beside him, gasping. Zed 
 chuckled. 
 
 " Ye'll feel all right in two minutes. Ye see 
 Death was chasing us, and a man must run hard to 
 outrun Death." He chuckled, grew grave again, 
 and added : " I owe you my life, son. They meant 
 to hang me. Before I ran away into the wilder- 
 ness, my father tried to teach me book-keepin'. I 
 
56 Tom Strong 
 
 remember enough of it to know how my account 
 stands. It's this way." 
 
 He cut off a twig, sharpened it, and rather 
 laboriously wrote on a bit of bare ground, where 
 the dense shade had kept grass from growing : 
 
 Dr. to Tom 5r;^oNG 
 To 0H€ L.ir^ ^ ^ * - ? 
 
 " I dunno what that life is worth, Tom, but I 
 set almighty store on it myself. And I won't for- 
 get what I owe ye, son." 
 
 " But you saved your own life. Zed. You cracked 
 their heads together, not I. I hope you didn't kill 
 'em, Zed." 
 
 " No. They'll have a headache, nothing worse — 
 unless Sir William gives them something worse." 
 
 " And at any rate the account is square, for you 
 saved my life when the Hessians charged us, and 
 when you grabbed my hand and showed me where 
 and how to run. Gracious, Zed, you can run." 
 
Tom Strong 57 
 
 Tom picked up the sharpened twig and wrote 
 on the ground in his turn. When he had finished 
 the writing showed this : 
 
 Ze-d Pr 
 
 AT7- 
 
 Dr. to To 
 
 To ON 
 
 " Have it your own way, my boy. But clubbip' 
 my gun and hittin' that Hessian was just an in- 
 stinct, Tom, and as for runnin' away with ye, why, 
 I did that just for fun." 
 
 " I'm mighty glad you amused yourself that 
 way." 
 
 " Well, perhaps, each of us owes the other some- 
 thing yet. We'll stay together, Tom, and try to 
 pay off each other. Shall we, son ? " 
 
 The man and the boy clasped hands in a grip of 
 friendship so firm that it lasted unbroken so long 
 as they two did live. 
 
 Meanwhile there were no handclasps-- of friend- 
 ship at the Murray mansion. The released sol- 
 
58 Tom Strong 
 
 diers had told their tale, had been angrily sworn 
 at, and turned over to the brutal Cunningham to be 
 flogged, and Sir William Howe, sputtering with 
 fury, confronted his hostess. 
 
 " I believe you told your servant to do it," he 
 cried. " Where is he ? Bring him to me. He 
 shall be whipped till the blood runs. And yet you 
 yourself proposed a loyal toast. Can such a 
 gracious presence " — Mrs. Murray's stately beauty 
 and splendid serenity were reconquering the British 
 general, a gentleman at heart, and cruel only after 
 the fashion of his age — " can such a gracious pres- 
 ence hide a disloyal heart ? " 
 
 " You have asked me two questions. General. I 
 answer them. First, I do not know where the boy 
 is. If I did, I would not tell you, for men are not 
 born free to be whipped. Second, my toast was to 
 the happy ending of what you called ' a little re- 
 bellion.' May it end happily. Sir William. Long 
 live America ! " 
 
 She sank almost to the ground with a mag- 
 nificent courtesy. She swept into her house, and 
 Simeon closed the door in the face of Sir William, 
 
Tom Strong 59 
 
 as the latter started forward with a half -spoken 
 threat, which was never uttered. 
 
 " We must not fight a woman, gentlemen. And 
 her Madeira was good, too good, perhaps, for we 
 have wasted more than two hours. Have the 
 bugles sound the advance. Confound that trap- 
 per ! The next Yankee I catch shall swing for it." ^. 
 
 The next Yankee he caught was Nathan Hale. 
 
 The notes rang out. The column, which had 
 halted half a mile back, took up its westward 
 march. Within a few minutes. General Howe en- 
 countered Putnam's trampled trail. 
 
 " That is no trail of hours ago," he cried. " It 
 looks as though the rascals had passed a minute 
 ago. Ask somebody. There are half a dozen huts 
 in sight." 
 
 Inquiry soon showed by how narrow a margin 
 Howe had missed capturing Putnam and his men. 
 
 " We dallied in Capua," he sighed. " We paid 
 a high price for that Madeira. But did she know ? 
 Did Madam Murray know? I cannot believe it." 
 
 He never did believe it; but history knows better. 
 
 The next day the British attacked the American 
 
6o Tom Strong 
 
 intrenchments at Harlem Heights. Zed had mys- 
 teriously disappeared the night before, to Tom's 
 great alarm, but he came back before sunrise with 
 his beloved gun on his shoulder. He had gone 
 four miles within the British lines to rescue it from 
 its hiding-place. It did good service that day be- 
 fore the British fell back, baffled. It was the day 
 on which Tom Strong first bled for his country, 
 though his coat suffered more than he. -An Eng- 
 lish attack had been beaten off. The red-coats 
 were retiring sullenly down the hill. Tom jumped 
 to his feet that he might shout " hurrah ! " with all 
 the emphasis of young lungs. A Parthian shot 
 struck him. He turned sick and white, and fell 
 into Zed's outstretched arms. There was a hole 
 near the shoulder of the green coat. The edges 
 of the hole were turning red. Zed's ready knife 
 slashed off the arm of the coat and the shirt-sleeve. 
 He had never been so anxious about himself, in the 
 worst dangers of his life, as he was about Tom 
 then. When he finally saw the wound, his sigh of 
 relief sounded like a whistle of joy. 
 
 " Only a scratch, son. Just a mite of a 
 
Tom Strong 6i 
 
 bandage " — his deft fingers were at work on a 
 first-aid-to-the-injured that was beyond compare — 
 " just a mite of a bandage and you'll be yourself 
 again. Next time, don't crow till ye're out of the 
 woods — or crow sittin' ! " 
 
 Four days of inaction followed. Tom's anxiety 
 about his mother was much lessened when news 
 filtered through from the southern end of Man- 
 hattan that New York, albeit heavily garrisoned, 
 was held in strict order. Provost-Marshal Cun- 
 ningham, though his name has lived in infamy for 
 over a century for his cruelty to prisoners, was a 
 good soldier, and knew how to hold soldiers well 
 in hand. The two Hessians who were quartered 
 in Mrs. Strong's cottage speedily became her de- 
 voted slaves. They cut wood for her and brought 
 water for her. They broke their broken English 
 still more in their attempt to praise her cooking. 
 One of them, a blond giant named Hans Rolf, 
 would talk to her by the hour about his home and 
 his mother. Of course, she told him all about Tom 
 in return, until Hans came quite to love, for Tom's 
 mother's sake, this foe he had never seen. Once 
 
62 Tom Strong 
 
 Mrs. Strong asked him to protect Tom if ever the 
 need and the chance came. 
 
 " Y^h, yah. Dat vill I do. But how I know 
 him, dis son of yours ? " 
 
 " Oh, you'll know him, for he's just the hand- 
 somest boy in the world," cried the mother-heart. 
 
 The giant gave a gigantic yell of laughter. 
 
 " Dat is vot meine mutter says of me. Your 
 Tom is then my — what is it? Oh, yes — ^my twin. 
 Veil, Mutter Strong, I vill take care of my twin." 
 
 And so he did. But that, as Rudyard Kipling 
 says more than once in his splendid books, " is an- 
 other story." Perhaps I may tell it to you, if you 
 grow to like Tom Strong, as I hope you may. For 
 I like him a good deal, as I like every boy of clean 
 body and clean soul, who loves his mother too much 
 to be wicked and his father too much to be weak. 
 The world belongs to the young, so they should 
 make themselves fit for their inheritance. They 
 should breathe the open air, read good books, think 
 good thoughts, work hard and play hard, have 
 room in their big, broad lives for both football and 
 Emerson. 
 
Tom Strong 63 
 
 On the morning of September 21st a rumor of 
 woe ran through the patriot army, " Nathan Hale 
 has been captured as a spy ! " No man was better 
 loved by that rude soldiery, drawn from counter, 
 and tiller, and plough. His sunny smile, his mu- 
 sical speech^ his gay bravery allured them. They 
 knew him as something higher than they, but still 
 of their kin. He was of them and beyond them. 
 They had a nickname for him — the " Shevaleer 
 Baird," in their uncouth speech. They meant the 
 Chevalier Bayard, to whom, as to Sir Philip Sid- 
 ney, the world has given the laurel-crown for 
 knightly courtesy. Was Nathan Hale to wear the 
 martyr's crown now? 
 
 Within an hour, Alexander Hamilton came gal- 
 loping to where Hale's company was encamped, 
 bearing an imperative order from Washington. 
 Zedediah Pratt and Thomas Strong were to report 
 at headquarters at once. But Zed and Tom missed 
 their chance that day of seeing Washington face 
 to face. He had sent for them — they both had 
 niches in his marvelous memory — ^that they might 
 penetrate the British camp and try to rescue Hale 
 
64 Tom Strong 
 
 from a dreadful doom. But they did not need 
 such an order. Still unfettered by any regular en- 
 listment, they were free to leave camp, and they 
 had done so the instant the story reached them. 
 What did risk of life count to them if they could 
 save " the Captain " ? 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 "VTATHAN HALE had put on the clothes he 
 had worn as a school teacher when he began 
 his perilous quest. Pretending to seek employment 
 in some school, he strolled from point to point 
 within the British lines, noting where troops were 
 posted, where roads lay, where sudden attacks could 
 be made with good chance of success. He put all 
 this down on paper, which was not overwise, and 
 he put his papers in his shoes, which was anything 
 but wise. That was where Major Andre, too, hid 
 his notes, which brought him, likewise, to the 
 scaffold. If I had to search a suspected spy, I 
 would search his shoes first. We do not know why 
 suspicion fell upon Hale, but his manly beauty 
 made him a conspicuous person, and it is not strange 
 that his going to and fro led first to remark and 
 then to arrest. His shoes gave up his secrets. He 
 was brought before Howe on the 21st of Septem- 
 ber, 1776, and promptly sentenced to be hung be- 
 
 65 
 
66 Tom Strong 
 
 fore sunrise. His last hours left another black 
 stain on Cunningham, for he was treated with a 
 brutal disregard of decency. He asked for a chap- 
 lain. 
 
 " No rebel is fit to see a clergyman," said Cun- 
 ningham. " You cannot have one." 
 
 " Will you lend me a Bible? " 
 
 " I wouldn't if I had one." 
 
 Pen, paper, and ink were grudgingly given him, 
 but the letters he wrote his sisters and his betrothed 
 never reached them. In our own nobler moments 
 we may perhaps imagine what the patriot prisoner 
 wrote, but only Cunningham read it. And having 
 read the letters, he destroyed them before the eyes 
 of the martyr. He boasted of this brutality after- 
 wards, saying : " I did it so that the rebels should 
 never know they had a man who could die with 
 such firmness." Even light was denied him 
 through that last night. But the light of his strong 
 spirit flamed through those dark hours. 
 
 Zed and Tom had, of course, left their guns in 
 camp. Each had a knife and one of the clumsy 
 pistols of those days concealed about him. They 
 
Tom Strong 67 
 
 crawled between two outposts without much diffi- 
 culty, without any, in fact, for Zed, though Tom 
 had one or two twigs crackle under him, which 
 sounded to him like a roll of musketry. For- 
 tunately the noise was really slight. Once safely 
 passed, they separated, agreeing to meet at the 
 Murray mansion at nightfall. Their object was to 
 find out where Nathan Hale was confined, and to 
 try to rescue him that night. They brought each 
 other the horrible news that Hale was to be hung 
 at dawn of the next day. Tom had learned this 
 from a friend, for the news had spread like light- 
 ning through the little town. Zed, who knew few 
 folk in New York, had learned it from Mrs. Mur- 
 ray, when he came at dusk to her house. The 
 news was, indeed, terrible, for the time of possible 
 rescue was cut short, and it was certain that a pris- 
 oner already condemned would be guarded with 
 especial strictness. 
 
 " What can I do? How can I aid you? " asked 
 Mrs. Murray. 
 
 " Well, if Mr. Murray wouldn't mind, you might 
 give us some of his clothes," drawled Zed. " Gen- 
 
68 Tom Strong 
 
 era! Howe might remember Tom's green coat and 
 my buckskin one. And so might two soldiers of 
 his. We left 'em in your laundry, ma'am, biting 
 their own bayonets. I'd rather not meet either of 
 them in the same clothes I wore when I met 'em 
 last time." 
 
 " Mr. Murray is in town. Simeon shall take 
 you to his dressing-room. Simeon, let them take 
 what they want." 
 
 And this is why Mr. Murray was surprised to 
 find his wardrobe slightly enriched by one boy's 
 coat (green) and one man's coat (buckskin), 
 which he by no means thought a fair exchange for 
 two excellent brown suits, much the best clothes 
 Zed and Tom had ever had, though they might have 
 fitted them better. The clothes were too big for 
 Tom and too small for Zed, but they certainly made 
 a great change in the appearance of the two. Fed 
 as well as clothed by Mrs. Murray, they started at 
 dusk for Colonel Henry Rutgers' estate. It was 
 where Market Street and East Broadway now 
 cross. In a small log hut at the edge of the 
 orchard was Nathan Hale. A cordon of sentries 
 
Tom Strong 69 
 
 surrounded the hut. A tent was pitched just op- 
 posite the only door. In the tent an officer sat. 
 He looked longingly towards the great house, not 
 very far off, which blazed with light. Evidently 
 there was a feast. Occasionally a rollicking song 
 rang out. It was a strange requiem for the pris- 
 oner. 
 
 Zed and Tom were lying flat on their faces in 
 the orchard. Cautiously they whispered together. 
 Tom was eagerly urging something. Zed was pro- 
 testing. But at last he said : " I've got to let you 
 try it, for I see no other way. But, son, son, it is 
 almost hopeless. Ye run an awful risk. If ye 
 fail, they'll string you up beside the Captain. If 
 ye succeed,' they'll probably string ye without him. 
 Son, I can't let ye try it." 
 
 " I will try it," said Tom. The boy had a square 
 jaw. It closed with a click. He would try his 
 daring plan. His soul was lifted to the height of 
 utter self-sacrifice. 
 
 " ' What shall a man do more than give his life 
 for his friend ' ? " whispered Zed. " Go, my boy." 
 He caught his breath with a sob. 
 
70 Tom Strong 
 
 " Who goes there ? " called a sentry. 
 
 Zed and Tom lay still as the death that threat- 
 ened them. Two soldiers came within a few feet 
 of them, stabbing with their bayonets at the darker 
 shadows on the ground. 
 
 " 'Twas a cow — or a ghost," said a jovial Irish 
 voice. 
 
 " Belike 'twas a banshee," answered another 
 voice, shaken by superstition. " They say the 
 bloody spy is Scotch-Irish. He's sure a gentleman. 
 There's Hales live in Belfast and the banshee al- 
 ways howls for that" family. Perhaps he's of the 
 Belfast Hales." 
 
 " He'll be of the Hales of heaven to-morrow, 
 if niver another rebel goes there. Niver I saw a 
 more gallant gentleman. And he's the purtiest bye 
 in the world. There'll be a broken heart some- 
 where over his broken neck. But let's go back. If 
 'tis a banshee, I'm not for colloguing with it." 
 
 It was pleasant to breathe freely again. Zed and 
 Tom devoted themselves to that pastime for a mo- 
 ment. Then the old trapper took the boy in his 
 arms as they lay there, hugged him hard, and 
 
Tom Strong 71 
 
 pushed him away. Tom crawled slowly out of 
 sight. 
 
 His plan was to present himself before General 
 Howe as Nathan Hale's brother, get permission to 
 see the prisoner for a parting word, persuade Hale 
 to change clothes with him in the hut, and go out in 
 his stead, and to await himself whatever the mor- 
 row might hold for the boy who would have robbed 
 the British lion of his prey. Once out of the 
 orchard, he fetched a wide circle and drew near the 
 chief door of the stately Rutgers house. On his 
 plea that he had a message for Sir William Howe, 
 he was passed froin sentry to sentry, and finally 
 ushered into a drawing-room, where he was left 
 alone for a moment. He used that moment to hide 
 his knife and pistol behind one of the long window- 
 curtains that reached the floor. The old trapper 
 would have hidden them in a bush before he reached 
 the first sentry. The door opened as Tom was 
 stooping near the curtain, and a young aide-de- 
 camp appeared. Tom instantly recognized him as 
 the officer who had urged General Howe at the 
 Murray mansion, to push forward the troops, and 
 
72 Tom Strong 
 
 had been snubbed for his pains. The ofificer looked 
 at him with a puzzled half-recognition. 
 
 " Where have I seen you, my boy? " 
 
 " I've never seen your Excellency before. Are 
 you General Howe ? " asked Tom, in a disguised and 
 husky voice, looking down at the floor. 
 
 There was a laughing explanation that he was 
 not his General, and a demand for his message. 
 
 " My name is Tom Hale, your Honor. My 
 brother Nathan, they say, is to be hung to-morrow. 
 'Tis I would see him, an' your Honor pleases, for a 
 last word for our mother." And Tom sobbed, 
 partly for dramatic effect, partly because at the 
 thought of Hale's danger he couldn't help it. 
 
 Lieutenant Cathcart's face softened. " Poor 
 boy ! " he said. " Poor boy ! I fear 'tis in vain, 
 but I'll try. Wait here." 
 
 He slipped back through the door, leaving it ajar. 
 Tom caught sight of a table sparkling with glass, 
 and of several officers glittering with scarlet and 
 gold. His hopes rose high as he heard Cathcart's 
 pleading tones in the next room. Then a gruff 
 voice said : " No, he shall not see him. I'd like to 
 
Tom Strong 73 
 
 hang the whole brood, him as well as his brother. 
 Is he here under a flag of truce ? " 
 
 " No, Sir William, he needs none. He's no sol- 
 dier, just a boy." 
 
 " Turn out the young dog, then. Have him 
 passed to the outposts, and then give him five min- 
 utes' law. If he lingers, have him shot." 
 
 " I'll have a look at the young traitor before he 
 goes," said Provost-Marshal Cunningham. , " Does 
 he look like the spy ? " 
 
 " No," replied Cathcart. " He looks like some- 
 body I've seen, but I can't say who." 
 
 " I'll tell you," said Cunningham. " I never for- 
 get a face." 
 
 He lurched into the drawing-room, stared at Tom 
 a moment, then shouted : " It's the boy that tricked 
 us at the Hurrays'. Now there'll be two to hang." 
 Luckily for him, as he started to seize Tom, he 
 stumbled. over a chair and fell, for Tom had jumped 
 back to the curtained window, seized his pistol, and 
 fired point-blank at his would-be captor. As the 
 shot rang out, both doors opened; officers, headed by 
 General Howe, rushed through one; liveried ser- 
 
74 Tom Strong 
 
 vants and a sentry through the other. A murk of 
 powder filled the room. All outlines were in- 
 distinct. Tom took his one chance. There were 
 three great windows on the side of the drawing- 
 room. He rushed at the center one and dived 
 head foremost through it. The other windows 
 went up while the splintering crash was still ringing 
 in the air. Cathcart leapt out of one; Cunningham 
 climbed out of the other. The chase was on. 
 
 Tom had been cut by broken glass, of course, 
 when he made his mad dive, but the cuts about his 
 head were less serious than one in his right knee. 
 The sharp pain of that stabbed him. Even before 
 he lit on the ground, he knew he could not run. To 
 hide was his only hope. There was an open cellar- 
 window close by. He dropped through this when 
 his pursuers were almost in the air above him. 
 While they were running eagerly to and fro, calling 
 for lights, and while the inner ring of sentries were 
 hurrying to the scene, Tom found himself in a 
 spacious cellar, piled high with wood. There was 
 little chance for hiding there. He pushed open a 
 door at the right of the cellar-space, and entered the 
 
Tom Strong 75 
 
 laundry of the Rutgers mansion. There was a 
 mammoth fireplace in it, from which sprang the 
 main chimney of the great house. In those days 
 of open wood fires, chimneys were our fathers' 
 nearest imitation of the Pyramids of Egypt. They 
 were, indeed, massive. To Torri's wild amaze, a 
 pair of legs was emerging from the chimney above 
 the bare fireplace. Very black and sooty legs they 
 were. They were followed by the body and head 
 of a boy about Tom's age, who showed abject fear 
 when he landed on the hearth and saw our hero 
 staring at him. 
 
 " Please don't tell on me," he gasped. He was 
 a chimney-sweep who had hid from a cruel master 
 that day, and was now seeking to escape in the 
 night. 
 
 A thought flashed through Tom's ready mind. 
 No sooner thought than done. Half by persuasion, 
 half by threats, Tom got the sweep to change clothes 
 with him, and then they both climbed painfully up 
 the chimney, despite the sharp protests of the in- 
 jured knee. They went straight to the roof, and 
 stopped in an angle of the many-gabled house. 
 
76 Tom Strong 
 
 Within an hour the noise of pursuit had died away, 
 but it was sorrie time before the two boys ventured 
 to let themselves down upon the roof of the kitchen, 
 a one-story structure, whence it was easy to swing 
 to the ground — or would have been easy if they had 
 not been so near the sentry-line. For mutual safety 
 they separated at once. The sweep vanished out of 
 Tom's life as swiftly as he had entered into it. 
 
 The hour before the dawn had come. None 
 could save Nathan Hale now. But Tom could not 
 bear to go until he knew that all was over. Wild 
 thoughts of attacking, single-handed, the guard that 
 would march with the doomed man to the gallows 
 rose in his mind, but knife and pistol were in the 
 great house. Alone and unarmed, he could do 
 nothing. He had rubbed soot over his hands and 
 face, and felt that his present clothes — he had never 
 had three suits of clothes in twelve hours before, 
 albeit the worst came last — and his black face woiild 
 disguise him thoroughly, so he crept from tree to 
 tree in the orchard until he lay scarcely forty feet 
 from the rude gallows-tree that had been made 
 ready. The least possible trace of a whistle, the 
 
Tom Strong 77 
 
 very shadow of one, dropped down to his startled 
 ear. He looked up and saw a dark shadow 
 stretched along a big bough. He knew it must be 
 Zed, just as Zed had known that the creeping 
 figure must be Tom. Speech was impossible. They 
 could only await in silence and despair the coming 
 tragedy. 
 
 There came the rat-tat-tat of a drum. A file of 
 scarlet soldiers stood before the door of the log hut. 
 There was the click of an unlocked padlock, the 
 falling of a chain. The door opened, and Nathan. 
 Hale swung out with as free and gallant a step as 
 though he were going to his wedding. His arms 
 were pinioned behind him. His throat was bare. 
 His head was held high. H you would know what 
 manner of man the martyr was, go to the City Hall 
 Park and see him standing there, looking down on 
 the roar and turmoil of Broadway, with steadfast, 
 far-seeing, immortal eyes. Frederick Macmonnies 
 gave us that statue. 
 
 Hale's springing step carried him upon the gal- 
 lows. The hangman offered to blindfold him, but 
 the beautiful head of the man-boy nodded " no." 
 
78 Tom Strong 
 
 He would meet his fate with open eyes. As the 
 noose was placed about his neck, the first rays 
 of the sun flashed above the horizon. They gilded 
 the scaffold with glory. It became a throne. The 
 martyr's eyes caught sight in that dawning gleam 
 of Zed and Tom. Quickly he looked away that 
 his glance might not betray them. But a new light 
 leapt into those wonderful eyes, for he knew he 
 could give, through the trapper and the boy, his 
 last message, The musical voice rang out like a 
 silver trumpet: 
 
 " I regret only that I have but one life to lose 
 for my country! " 
 
 The drop fell. The life was lost. Lost from 
 earth; but Nathan Hale lives forever with Wash- 
 ington in the hearts of his countrymen. His death 
 was not shame, but splendor. 
 
Nathan Hale 
 
 The statue by Frederick Macmonnies in 
 City Hall Park, New York 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 'T^OM and Zed wriggled their way to compara- 
 tive safety while the shadows still lay heavy 
 beneath the close-grown tree-tops. They were five 
 miles from the American lines, but Tom's wander- 
 ings afield after deer and other game had taught him 
 every path, cart-track, lane, and short-cut in upper 
 Manhattan. They kept as far from the Blooming- 
 dale and the Boston Post roads as they could, and by 
 dint of much running, walking, and creeping, with 
 an occasional bit of anxious hiding, they finally 
 found themselves in the rear of the British out- 
 posts. Zed still looked quite the gentleman in Mr. 
 Murray's fine brown suit, albeit he lacked the pow- 
 dered hair that was part of a gentleman's make-up 
 in those days, but Tom was an utter rapscallion. 
 The sweep's clothes were even more ragged than 
 when Tom had put them on. The boy's face was 
 
 still black with soot, except where his tears over 
 
 79 
 
8o Tom Strong 
 
 Nathan Hale's glorious death had worn white fur- 
 rows. 
 
 No sorrow, however great, can be continuous. 
 It is fortunate that Time does bring surcease of 
 sorrow, else human hearts would break more often 
 than they do. Now, as the fugitives lay in a 
 thicket, looking down on the English skirmish line, 
 Zed looked at Tom quizzically and chuckled. 
 
 " Ye surely are a sight, my boy. It is quite dis- 
 graceful for my gentility to have such an attend- 
 ant. What would Mr. Murray say if he knew his 
 clothes were in such bad company?" 
 
 Even Tom smiled as he cast rueful glances over 
 himself. 
 
 " The parts of ye that ye can't see are even 
 worse," added Zed. " Ye could go on the stage 
 of that new playhouse down in New York as an imp 
 of Satan just as ye are. Now Satan still 'gives 
 mischief for idle hands to do,' and we're sure idle 
 just now. Let's do some mischief. A wolf'll go 
 snoopin' round twenty miles in a night rather than 
 not do a mischief. And I feel like a wolf, my boy. 
 I want revenge for the Captain." 
 
Tom Strong 8r 
 
 His voice ended in a low growl like that of an 
 angry wolf. Tom put his hand on his arm. 
 
 " Zed, the Captain doesn't want revenge. If we 
 can hurt the enemy in fair fight, we'll do it, and 
 thank the Lord of Hosts for the chance, but I don't 
 like that look in your eyes. I never saw you look 
 cruel and mean before. Forgive me, Zed ! " 
 
 The trapper looked arigiry for a moment, then his 
 face cleared. He smiled a little sheepishly — ^the 
 change from being a wolf was complete — and 
 said: 
 
 " Well, ye' re right, son. I just wanted to kill 
 for the sake of killing, I guess. I've heard the 
 Hurons yelling about a prisoner tied to the stake. 
 I've seen them light the fire about him, while I 
 waited for my turn to be roasted alive. God for- 
 give me! I felt like a Huron myself, just then. 
 But see here, son, ye've lost your knife and pistol. 
 Suppose we get ye a gun from the enemy. That's 
 all right, isn't it? We won't kill anybody unless 
 we have to, but ye sure need to be paid "for what 
 ye left with General Howe. 'Twan't no present ye 
 gave him, just a loan." 
 
82 Tom Strong 
 
 Tom laughed and agreed. He didn't see how it 
 could be done, but it was enough for him if Zed 
 did. He was ready to follow his superior in skill. 
 That is a good trait. The boy who prefers to herd 
 with his inferiors soon finds that his equals have 
 left him behind. " Hitch your wagon to a star," 
 says Emerson. 'It is good advice. Zed expounded 
 his plan. In the little hollow below them, a Hes- 
 §kn sentry was pacing to and fro. When he passed 
 around the edge of a tiny foothill, he went out of 
 sight of his fellows, and he stayed out of sight 
 nearly two minutes. 
 
 " There's our chance, Tom. We'll jump on Mr. 
 Hessian, throttle him, and take his gun. There 
 may be a little shooting when we break cover, but 
 ye see our fellows are not far away." 
 
 And, indeed, the American outposts were not far 
 away. From time to time, the gleam of the sun on 
 a polished gun-barrel betrayed their presence on the 
 hillside below where the great cathedral is now 
 rising, stone by stone, arch by arch, on Cathedral 
 Heights. Tom and Zed's friendly thicket was near 
 the present northern line of Central Park. 
 
Tom Strong 83 
 
 They crept down just behind the point the sen- 
 tinel was to turn, and hid again. As he passed 
 them, the trapper's sinewy arm went round his 
 throat and choked all chance of outcry, while the 
 trapper's knife danced before his bulging eyes. 
 
 " Take his gun, Tom." Tom took it. 
 
 "Tie your coat over his head." The sweep's 
 coat went over the sentry's head. By this time, the 
 breath was out of him. He lay senseless as feet 
 and hands were tied with the sweep's trousers. 
 These were ruthlessly torn in two for that purpose. 
 Tom was left with little more clothing than a 
 modern athlete wears when he tries to break the 
 hundred-yard record. Zed fingered his knife as he 
 stood over the prostrate soldier. 
 
 " No," said Tom. 
 
 The knife was half-reluctantly sheathed. Watch- 
 ing their chance, they sprang forward. Their fly- 
 ing feet spurned the ground. One — two — three 
 shots rang after them. The American sentries ran 
 forward, dropped behind shelter, and began to fire. 
 Under cover of their volley, Tom and Zed gained 
 the camp, where they fell breathless, Tom clutching 
 
84 Tom Strong 
 
 the trophy, the Hessian's gun, and Zed fingering the 
 tails of Mr. Murray's coat, in which two bullet-holes 
 showed that there were some good marksmen on the 
 enemy's side. 
 
 And so Tom, if he didn't save Nathan Hale's 
 life, did save Hans Rolf's, for it was Mrs. Strong's 
 friend Hans whom Zed had throttled, and whom 
 Zed had wanted to kill. This was not the real 
 meeting between Tom and Hans. That came later. 
 
 When Zed and Tom reported to the lieutenant of 
 their company and told him the story of Nathan 
 Hale's last hour, the officer sent theii- statement 
 through the proper channels to headquarters. Again 
 Alexander Hamilton came galloping with an order 
 to Zedediah Pratt and Thomas Strong to report 
 forthwith to the Commander-in-Chief. They 
 walked soberly after Hamilton's flying steed. 
 
 At the front door of the Jumel mansion, an 
 orderly awaited them. They followed him into the 
 broad hall and up the fine stairway, then back to a 
 six-sided room in the rear of the second story. 
 This room, once defaced by ill-planned changes, has 
 been restored to its original form. You can see it 
 
Tom Strong 85 
 
 to-day as it looked in those days when it was Wash- 
 ington's office, the room in which he planned the 
 salvation of his country after the crushing defeat 
 and the brilliant retreat of Long Island. He had 
 that great, that very great, virtue of self-control. 
 When lesser men despaii^ed, he was serene. Even 
 now, when he knew he was to hear of the last hoiu: 
 of the splendid youth whom he loved and whom he 
 had had to send to his death, for his country's sake, 
 he showed a calm and kingly face, as he lifted his 
 eyes to Zed and Tom when they stumbled across 
 the threshold. But the eyes were full of unshed 
 tears. 
 
 " You saw Captain Hale die for his country ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, Your Excellency," answered Zed. " I 
 wan't no use, but the boy, he tried to save him." 
 
 " Tell me everything," said Washington. 
 
 Tom tried to speak, but a deep sob choked his 
 voice and kept him silent. 
 
 " He loved him. General," explained Zed, simply. 
 "So did I." 
 
 The General nodded and said, in a wonderfully 
 
86 Tom Strong 
 
 sympathetic tone that went straight to the hearts 
 of trapper and boy : " We all three loved him. Take 
 your time, my boy, but tell me everything." 
 
 So Tom told him everything. He would have 
 left untold his own gallant deeds, but Zed would not 
 permit. Bit by bit the whole stofy came out. 
 Washington's face glowed as he heard, chiefly from 
 Zed, of the risks Tom had run for Nathan Hale's 
 sake. Tom ended his story by saying : " Just before 
 the — ^the end, he saw us. Your Excellency. He 
 saw us, and he sent you a message by us." 
 
 " Sent me a message ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " He threw back his head and he said — he said it 
 proudly. General, as if he was glad to die that — ^that 
 — way " — 
 
 Tom's voice broke again, but he got hold of him- 
 self and went on : 
 
 " He said : ' I regret only that I have but one life 
 to lose for my country ! ' " 
 
 Then the boy's sobs came again, but now he did 
 not weep alone. The tears in Washington's eyes 
 were no longer unshed. They fell in loving memory 
 of the martyred Hale. 
 
Tom Strong 87 
 
 Another lull in the war-game followed. October 
 9th an English, frigate showed the uselessness of 
 Fort Washington and Fort Lee by passing between 
 them unharmed. She captured a covey of small 
 craft above them, and remained above them, threat- 
 ening both banks of the Hudson. 
 
 On the I2th General Howe transferred his main 
 army to Throg's Neck, on the north shore of Long 
 Island Sound. Zed had been detailed as a scout, 
 work for which his Indian experiences made him 
 especially fit. At his earnest request, Tom, now 
 equipped with something better than the clothes 
 which had been used for the undoing and the doing- 
 up of Hans Rolf, but not in uniform, was detailed 
 as his assistant. It was their keen eyes which first 
 detected the British movement. Zed hurried back 
 to headquarters with the news, but Tom, at Zed's 
 orders, followed along the shore in advance of the 
 British, watching for their landing-place. It was 
 well he did, for his stout arms did good work for 
 his and our country that day. 
 
 Throg's Neck, as the name suggests, is a penin- 
 sula. At its base, close to the mainland, was a 
 
88 Tom Strong 
 
 marsh spanned by a wooden bridge. When the 
 British boats began to curve in towards the Long 
 Island Sound end of the Neck, Tom and two neigh- 
 boring farmers began a vigorous attack on the 
 bridge. They swung their axes fast and ever faster 
 as the vanguard of the invaders saw them and 
 rushed to seize the bridge. But as the bullets pat- 
 tered past them and when the first file of grenadiers 
 was actually on the Sound end of the bridge, crash ! 
 went a twenty- foot span. Tom and his aids ran 
 back under cover. The British column perforce 
 halted. It was a deed such as Macaulay sang when 
 he told 
 
 " How well Horatius kept the bridge 
 In the brave days of old." 
 
 And if you don't know the story of Horatius, get 
 Macaulay's " Lays of Ancient Rome " forthwith 
 (you can find it in the nearest Library, if 
 it isn't on the family bookshelves), and read of how 
 
 "Back darted Spurius Lartius — 
 Herminius darted back; 
 And as they passed, beneath their feet 
 They felt the timbers crack. 
 
Tom Strong 89 
 
 But when they turned their faces 
 
 And on the farther shore 
 Saw brave Horatius stand alone, 
 
 They would have crossed once more, 
 But with a crash like thunder 
 
 Fell every loosened beam, 
 And like a dam, the mighty wreck 
 
 Lay right athwart the stream; 
 And a long shout of triumph 
 
 Rose from the walls of Rome, 
 As to the highest turret-tops 
 
 Was splashed the yellow foam." 
 
 At Throg's Neck, Horatius and Spurius Lartius and 
 Herminius all darted back together. But their 
 brave deed delayed the British advance until long 
 lines of Continentals could be hurried up to face 
 the invaders, who did not dare try to force a passage 
 against such a strong array. It was six days be- 
 fore Howe advanced. Meanwhile Washington 
 had fallen back to White Plains, to prevent Howe's 
 attacking his rear. 
 
 On the afternoon of October 27th, there was a 
 stir in the enemy's camp. A council-of-war was 
 in session in the house where General Howe had 
 his headquarters. In the stable a stout lad was 
 grooming the general's horses. It was Tom, but 
 
90 Tom Strong 
 
 Tom so disguised that his own mother would have 
 been puzzled to know who the lad was. A strolling 
 actor in the American army, a man who had ex- 
 changed " the mimic warfare of the stage " for the 
 battles of real war, had made up the lad with a few 
 masterly touches. His brown hair had become red, 
 a black patch covered his left eye. Both eyebrows 
 and eyelashes had been cut off, so that the right 
 eye had an utterly new and strange appearance. A 
 few wrinkles had added ten years at least to his 
 age. He was in the garb of a fisherman. He had 
 walked boldly into the English camp one noon and 
 told the story he had rehearsed a dozen times to 
 Zed, so that he was quite letter-perfect in his part, 
 ready to answer any question, repel any suspicion. 
 He was, he said, the son of a Long Island loyalist 
 who had been killed by the " rebels " the day before 
 the battle of Long Island. His mother had died the 
 year before. Bereft of all home ties, and penniless, 
 he had followed the invading army to get work 
 whereby he might live. He was put in the hands 
 of a drill-sergeant, who reported him as too hope- 
 lessly stupid to be made a soldier in a thousand 
 
Tom Strong 91 
 
 years. Indeed, his antics with a musket were some- 
 thing wonderful and fearful to behold. Told to 
 shoulder arms, he promptly grounded his gun. Told 
 to present arms, he tried to fire. Degraded to help 
 a camp-cook, he spilled and spoiled the food of a 
 dozen men. But as an assistant groom he won 
 hearty praise from the sergeant in charge of Sir 
 William's stable. A horse groomed by Tom shone 
 like the sun. And so, on the day before the battle 
 of White Plains, we find him in the stable of the 
 British general, hissing in approved fashion as he 
 plies the curry comb and keeping one eye and both 
 ears wide open. Hitherto he had seen nothing 
 and heard nothing except the routine of camp life, 
 but to-day it would have been a dull lad who did 
 not note a stir, a thrill of something about to 
 happen. Tom was not dull. He was not Tom, 
 by the way, at present. When he had discussed 
 with Zed under what name he should make his 
 dangerous venture, he had suggested Gerald Car- 
 ruthers, which he secretly thought a very fine name, 
 indeed. 
 
 " A fisherman wouldn't have a fine name, son. 
 
92 Tom Strong 
 
 And there's another thing. Is your underwear 
 marked ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mother always marked it, but not with my 
 full name, just with my initials, T. S." 
 
 " T. S.," said Zed, dryly, " don't exactly suggest 
 Gerald Carruthers." 
 
 " I suppose not," admitted Tom, reluctantly, 
 " but the letters would stand for Theodore Stan- 
 hope. I might call myself that. Don't you think 
 so?" 
 
 " They'd stand a heap better for Tad Stump. 
 That's your name." 
 
 So, with a sigh for Gerald and Theodore, Tom 
 became Tad, but he stayed Tad only a few days. 
 
 " Here, Tad, where are you ? Take the general's 
 horse to the front piazza." So spoke the sergeant. 
 
 This was a chance to hear something, but a 
 perilous chance. Lieutenant Cathcart, too low in 
 rank to be called to the council-table, was lounging 
 on the piazza. Major Cunningham was within. 
 Tom had seen them both enter the spacious yard, an 
 hour ago. And Cunningham said he never forgot 
 a face, Tom hoped his actor-friend had changed 
 
Tom Strong 93 
 
 his face enough. Perhaps the fact that his heart 
 was in his mouth would alter the expression of that 
 feature, at any rate. He led the horse up in such 
 a way that as he stood at the left of the animal's 
 head his back was to the piazza. 
 
 "Is that Sir WiUiam's horse, boy?" Cathcart 
 asked. 
 
 " It is, sir," flung Tom over his shoulder. 
 
 " You should look at an officer when you speak 
 to him, my lad," said Cathcart, pleasantly. " But 
 what can one expect," he went on, half to himself, 
 " from a bumpkin in this benighted country ? " 
 
 If Tom had known his Shakespeare, he might 
 have quoted : " For this relief, much thanks." He 
 felt it, if he did not say it. Even disguised so thor- 
 oughly, he would rather not face Cathcart. And 
 little cold shivers ran down his spine when he 
 thought of the possibility of having to face Cun- 
 ningham. Fortunately he escaped this, though the 
 brutal major came down the steps with Sir William. 
 The latter climbed a bit goutily into his saddle. He 
 treated the groom as if he didn't exist except that 
 he did toss a shilling to him. Tom tried to catch it 
 
94 Tom Strong 
 
 and to touch his forelock at the same time, with the 
 result that he missed both. He hit his nose with 
 his finger and the shilling hit the dust. Cathcart 
 laughed at his awkwardness, but Tom didn't mind 
 being laughed at, for he had learned what he had 
 risked his life to find out. For Cunningham, who 
 had promptly sprung into his saddle, had said to 
 Sir William: "We move at just four, then. Gen- 
 eral?" And Howe had answered: "At four ex- 
 actly. By six Donop begins to attack on the right. 
 His will be the heaviest loss, but his Hessians are 
 good food for powder. I shall send in the grena- 
 diers a bit later on the left, and by noon there'll be 
 no rebel army left." 
 
 Evidently the British commander counted on a 
 surprise. It was up to the assistant groom to see 
 that the surprise should be the other way. 
 
 He walked as clumsily as he could back to the 
 stable, where he formed his plan. He not only had 
 to get away, but he must not be missed. If he were 
 suspected of having deserted to the " rebels," Sir 
 William and Major Cunningham might remember 
 their imprudent conversation before him, and the 
 
Tom Strong 95 
 
 whole plan of attack might be changed. It was not 
 very likely that an assistant groom would be missed, 
 but it was better to make sure of it. He must 
 manage to be sent away. 
 
 That evening, over the half-rotten rations the 
 troops had received from England, Tom talked of 
 a farm close to White Plains, near the " rebels," to 
 be sure, but yet outside their lines. He stocked that 
 farm with beeves and pigs, with garnered grain and 
 stored vegetables. He made its barns burst with 
 plenty. What he hoped for happened. Two of 
 his fellow grooms and he were told by the sergeant 
 in charge of the stable to slip away in the night, 
 to gather everything eatable that could be carried 
 or driven, and to be back with their booty before 
 reveille. 
 
 They started gleefully, and easily got past a 
 picket by promising to share their plunder upon re- 
 turning. When they reached the farm, Tom left 
 his companions in hiding, went forward himself, 
 and soon disappeared into the biggest of the big 
 barns, where Zed, true to a promise he had made, 
 was waiting as he had waited every night since 
 
g6 Tom Strong 
 
 Tom started on his perilous quest for news. Zed 
 ran forward for soldiers. Tom went back to his 
 companions. They were more surprised than he 
 when American soldiery suddenly appeared out of 
 nowhere and captured all three. They were put in 
 different rooms for what was left of the night. 
 When the rattle of musketry played the overture 
 for the battle of White Plains, the two Englishmen 
 were released in safety. Tom had stipulated for 
 this. He had been solemnly led to a room before 
 the eyes of his fellow-captives, and left there with 
 Zed in charge, so that his companions might not 
 suspect him, but the instant another door closed 
 Upon the Englishmen, he and Zed stole softly 
 downstairs and started for headquarters. There 
 Tom told his story to an attentive aide. Washing- 
 ton was waked at midnight to hear it. Noiseless 
 messengers carried his orders. The left flank was 
 strengthened, so that when the Hessians attacked 
 under Donop, they were quickly done up. The 
 grenadiers fared no better. After losing two hun- 
 dred and twenty-nine men to the Americans' one 
 hundred and forty, the invaders fell back, beaten. 
 
Tom Strong 97 
 
 Washington retreated to Northcastle, and three 
 days afterwards Howe marched across to Dobb's 
 Ferry and established his headquarters on the Hud- 
 son. This was a skilful move on his part, for 
 thence he threatened Philadelphia, the seat of the 
 " rebel " government, as well a^ both Washington's 
 army and the upper Hudson. 
 
 Our great general had but seventeen thousand 
 men with whom to cover the three threatened points, 
 but he did what he could. When a man has done 
 that, he can let the result " lie on the knees of the 
 gods." Do your best and then don't worry. " He 
 hath done what he could " is about as fine an epitaph 
 as can be carved on any man's tombstone. 
 
 Putnam was sent to Hackensack with five thou- 
 sand men; Heath went to Peekskill, and thence to 
 West Point (which was selected by Washington 
 and fortified for the first time) with three thou- 
 sand; and General Charles Lee was left in command 
 of Manhattan, with seven thousand. If you look 
 these places up on the map, you will see how wisely 
 they were chosen, in order to halt Howe and bottle 
 him up at Dobb's Ferry. His being there, however, 
 
98 Tom Strong 
 
 cut off Fort Washington, at the Hudson River and 
 One Hundred and Eighty-third Street, and made 
 its evacuation necessary, for the British troops were 
 all about it, and the British frigates commanded the 
 Hudson. 
 
 " More work for us to do, my son," said Zed 
 one day. 
 
 "That's good. What is it?" 
 
 " I'm ordered to take a message to Fort Wash- 
 ington, and you're to come with me." 
 
 " Who said so ? Of course I'm glad to go, but 
 are you sure the General won't want me here? " 
 
 Tom had come to consider the White Plains 
 fight as a kind of personal victory of his own, 
 since it was the news he brought which made vic- 
 tory easy. He was inclined to doubt a bit whether 
 Washington could get along without him. But Zed 
 reassured him. 
 
 " 'Twas Colonel Hamilton gave me my orders. 
 Says I to him : ' Can I take the boy along? ' Well, 
 you know the Colonel is a pretty serious man, son, 
 but he sort of grinned and says he : ' THE boy? Is 
 there only one boy in camp? Yes, you can take 
 
Torn Strong 99 
 
 THE boy. I suppose he's your friend, Tom 
 Strong, who tried so hard to save poor Hale — God 
 rest his soul. Yes, yes, take THE boy.' And so 
 he grinned again and I came away." 
 
 Tom was much pleased at being remembered by 
 Colonel Hamilton. It made it seem possible that 
 even the Commander-in-Chief might deign to re- 
 member him. 
 
 " Am I to take a duplicate message. Zed ? " 
 
 " Ye are; and ye' re to carry it where I carry 
 mine, in your head. Hamilton said he'd give me 
 no writing, for 'twould be sure to be found if I 
 were caught, and he didn't want such a good Amer- 
 ican hanged. D'ye mind that, lad ? ' Such a good 
 American.' " 
 
 " Isn't it splendid. Zed, to have a man like the 
 Colonel say that? " 
 
 Zed beamed, but looked only about one-tenth as 
 pleased as he was. 
 
 " So the Colonel gave me the message in words, 
 and I'll give it to you. Then if only one of us 
 gets through, the message will be delivered just the 
 same. 'Tis to Colonel Robert Magaw, in com- 
 
loo Tom Strong 
 
 mand of Fort Washington. He's to move every 
 man and all the guns and stores he can across the 
 Hudson to Fort Lee and destroy what's left behind. 
 And he's to move to-morrow night." 
 
 " To give up the fort, Zed? Why, that's awful. 
 I don't want to carry any such message. And be- 
 sides, Colonel Magaw won't know whether we 
 really come from the General or not. He may 
 think it's a trap, and that we're Tories. Nobody 
 shall call Tom Strong a Tory." 
 
 Tom scowled furiously at the imaginary Colonel 
 Magaw, who was thus calling him bad names. But 
 Zed went on: 
 
 " That's all arranged, lad. We're to say to the 
 Colonel : ' Nathan Hale says,' and then give him 
 the message. He knows that if anybody says to 
 him, ' Nathan Hale says,' that means that Wash- 
 ington says." 
 
 " But why is he to run away. Zed ? I don't like 
 it a bit." 
 
 " Ye don't? Well, perhaps, if ye tell that to the 
 General, he'll change his mind and tell MagEiw to 
 stay and be captured, but I doubt it." 
 
Tom Strong loi 
 
 " Why should he be captured? " 
 
 " Well, there's British and Hessians all around 
 him, and British ships below him. If he stays, he'll 
 be starved out, if he's not shot out. What can his 
 three thousand men do against twenty thousand? 
 The minute Howe got between us and Fort Wash- 
 ington, Magaw was a rat in a trap. A wise rat 
 gets out of a trap, if he can." 
 
 The trapper and the boy started that night. The 
 miles they had to travel were not many, but none 
 of them- was easy. They had to enter the British 
 lines almost at once, and to travel within them until 
 they reached the Fort. After Zed had given Tom 
 a thousand instructions, which didn't do the boy 
 -much good, for you cannot teach woodcraft in 
 words, the two messengers separated. They 
 thought thereby to double the chance of the mes- 
 sage's reaching Colonel Magaw. 
 
 Zed got through practically without difficulty, 
 but at a great risk. He stole to the water's edge, 
 stole a deer's carcass hanging near an officer's tent, 
 stole a boat and stole away down the Hudson. 
 •While lurking on the shore he had heard the coim- 
 
I02 Tom Strong 
 
 tersign of the night given to a British sentry. It 
 was " God and the Flag." Twice on the way down 
 he was stopped by patrol-boats. 
 
 "Halt! Who goes there?" 
 
 " A friend." 
 
 " Row here, friend, and give the countersign." 
 
 With a beating heart, Zed pulled up to the Brit- 
 ish boat. There were half-a-dozen sailors at the 
 oars, four marines with muskets, and a lieutenant. 
 The latter held up a murky lantern and peered into 
 Zed's face, as the trapper said, in tones much calmer 
 than his feelings: 
 
 " God and the Flag." 
 
 " What are you doing here? " 
 
 " They told me to take this venison to General 
 Donop, down near Fort Washington." 
 
 " Faith," said the lieutenant, as he looked long- 
 ingly at the carcass, " there's a British lieutenant 
 who'd like to dine with that Hessian general to- 
 morrow. Well, go ahead, friend. Give way 
 there," he said to his sailors, and the patrol-boat 
 vanished into the darkness. 
 
 Much the same thing happened again, except that 
 
Tom Strong 103 
 
 this second time the officer cautioned Zed par- 
 ticularly to row into Spuyten Duyvil Creek when he 
 reached it, and land at the first camp-fire on its 
 southern bank, " for," said he, " the bloody rebels 
 hold Jeffrey's Hook, just below Fort Washington, 
 and their boats patrol almost up to the Creek." 
 
 It is needless to say how heartily Zed thanked 
 him; how carefully he did not turn to his left into 
 Spuyten Duyvil Creek; and how cheerfully he let 
 himself be captured by an American boat and towed 
 to Jeffrey's Hook, whence he was led up to Colonel 
 Magaw's headquarters. He was blindfolded, of 
 course, but all suspicion vanished when he saluted 
 and began : " Nathan Hale says." 
 
 There was a profound silence when he finished 
 his message. 
 
 Then a deep voice said to his guards : " Take off 
 the bandage. Leave him here." 
 
 He found himself in a dirtily-lighted room. The 
 only other occupants were Colonel Magaw and a 
 man with a quiet, gentle smile on his lips and the 
 star of a brigadier on his shoulders. It was 
 Nathanael Greene of Rhode Island, who had been a 
 
I04 Tom Strong 
 
 good blacksmith, and became a good scholar and 
 a good general. He read the Latin poets by his 
 campfires, and thought out there the campaigns 
 which made him second only to Washington in mili- 
 
 NATHANAEL GREENE 
 
 tary renown. His character was pure and sweet. 
 After he had swept the British out of Georgia, 
 toward the end of the Revolution, that grateful 
 State gave its Yankee deliverer a stately home, 
 Dungeness, on Cumberland Island. 
 
 " You hear what General Washington orders me 
 to do. General ? " 
 
Tom Strong 105 
 
 " Yes, Colonel, and there is but one higher author- 
 ity than the Commander-in-Chief, but there is one. 
 'Tis the Congress. You fmist obey the Congress." 
 
 " But the Commander is right and Congress is 
 wrong " 
 
 " If you are afraid " 
 
 Magaw sprang to his feet in a tempest of wrath. 
 
 "Afraid? If you were not my superior of- 
 ficer " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Greene. " I should 
 not have said that. But my own temper is strained 
 to the breaking point by this interference of the 
 Congress. It is true that the Commander is right 
 and the Congress is wrong. But 'tis my duty and 
 yours, Colonel, to obey the Congress. 'Twas the 
 hardest task of my life to be rowed across the 
 Hudson to tell you Congress had ordered Fort 
 Washington defended to the last. I know you will 
 do it, however. Let us part friends. God grant 
 we meet again." 
 
 He held out his hand and pressed Magaw's ready 
 palm warmly. 
 
 "You can return with me to the other shore," 
 
io6 Tom Strong 
 
 said Greene to Zed. " I will send messages by you 
 to the General." 
 
 " But I've got to stay here to meet my boy Tom," 
 protested Zed. 
 
 " You've got to come with me," said Greene, 
 serenely. 
 
 And he went. Meanwhile things had happened 
 to Tom. 
 
 He went almost to the Fort in safety. He had 
 swum Spuyten Duyvil Creek in the darkness, and 
 dodged a stupid sentry on the shore without much 
 difficulty. But he found the British line so strictly 
 drawn about the Fort that no ingenuity showed him 
 a way through them. How he longed for Zed to 
 be there and to teach him how to stay unseen. To 
 his despair, day broke while he was still prowling 
 near^the Hessian camp. His message must not be 
 delayed twelve hours. Of course, he did not know 
 Zed had already delivered it. So he made up his 
 mind to do or die, by daylight. He slipped back 
 to a little farm near Spuyten Duyvil, where he bar- 
 tered his cherished knife for a dozen eggs. He 
 promptly tried to borrow back his knife in order 
 
Tom Strong 107' 
 
 to cut out a bark bag for the eggs, but the thrifty 
 husbandman with whom he was deahng made him 
 pay an egg for the loan of the knife, so that he 
 turned his face towards the Hessian outposts with 
 only eleven eggs for sale. They proved his pass- 
 port, however, for the time being. He was sent 
 under the guard of a giant Hessian to headquarters, 
 where his eggs were readily bought. They were 
 unsuspected, but he was not so lucky. When he 
 started to saunter away, meaning to watch his 
 chance and make a break for liberty on the Fort 
 Washington side of the camp, his guard, a good- 
 humored giant, put a crushing hand on his shoulder 
 and said : 
 
 " No, no. Mein orders say bring you here, no 
 say let you go." 
 
 The soldier saluted a passing officer and spoke 
 to him in German. The Captain eyed Tom sharply, 
 then said something in reply. 
 
 " He say you go mit me. I search you. Then 
 you go away." 
 
 The boy was taken to a nearby hut. The giant 
 sprawled on the only chair, while Tom stripped to 
 
io8 Tom Strong 
 
 his underclothes. His mother's skilful needle had 
 embroidered upon them his initials. When the 
 giant saw this, he gave a jovial shout. 
 
 "Ach! Dey say T. S. Are you Tom Strong? 
 Are you my twin ? " 
 
 Tom gazed at him in wild amazement. Being 
 suddenly presented with a twin brother twice your 
 age and of a different race would amaze anybody. 
 
 "Your mutter is de Widow Strong? — Broad 
 Strasse?— New York?" 
 
 " Yes, of course. Do you know her? " 
 
 " The finest woman in de world, except meine 
 mutter. .She take such care of me, I calls her 
 ' Mutter Strong.' I lived mit another soldier by 
 her house. She say her son Tom de handsomest 
 boy in world. I tell her meine mutter call me 
 dot, so Tom und I twins! Tom und Hans, 
 twins ! " 
 
 He roared with laughter again, while Tom hastily 
 dressed. A few questions showed him that Hans 
 Rolf had really been quartered at his mother's cot- 
 tage. The man and boy were friends in a mo- 
 ment. Suddenly Hans looked serious. 
 
Tom Strong 109 
 
 " But your mutter say you in de American army. 
 How you here? " 
 
 " Oh, I was with it for a while, but I never en- 
 listed. Now I'm selling things, you know, making 
 some money for my mother to live on." 
 
 " Yaw," said Hans, but he did not stop looking 
 serious. " I think, mein twin Tom, you better not 
 tell me more. I promised your mutter I take care 
 of you, if we meet. Vot you want me do? " 
 
 " Just say you found nothing on me, except the 
 money I got for the eggs." Tom hesitated a mo- 
 ment, then went on doubtfully : " Would you like 
 some of that?" He held out a few small silver 
 coins. 
 
 " You make big mistake. I no rob mein twin. 
 I am not vot you call in-in-intelligent, but I see 
 some dings queer about you. You tell me nodings. 
 I no want know dings. I get you out of camp. 
 So, dot is best, nicht wahr ? " 
 
 Hans shouldered his gun, marched Tom to the 
 officer's quarters, saluted, and told his story. He 
 said the boy was all right ; that he had nothing com- 
 promising on him; that he was selling things for 
 
no Tom Strong 
 
 his mother, whom he, Hans, knew. She lived in 
 New York. Hans had been quartered at her cot- 
 tage; she was " ein goot Tory." When Hans made 
 this quite untrue statement, he winked prodigiously 
 at Tom. The Hessian was not over-intelligent, but 
 his tale saved Tom from any more trouble, at the 
 moment. The boy was given leave to go. 
 
 Hans, whose duties were done for the day, shared 
 the food in his haversack with his new-found 
 "twin," and then strolled with him towards the 
 outposts, where he stopped him in a secluded part 
 of the forest. 
 
 " You want go back way you came ? No ? Ach, 
 so, I t' ought not. Veil, if I talk to dot sentry, I 
 s'pose you slip 'way down dot little brook. Den you 
 go your mutter — or you go dot Fort." He pointed 
 to where the American flag was flying defiantly 
 over Fort Washington. " I no want know vere 
 you go. Gehen Sie mit Gott. I loves your mut- 
 ter." 
 
 He gave Tom a bear's hug, kissed him, to the 
 boy's surprise, on both cheeks, and turned away 
 to talk to the sentry. He had kept his word to 
 
Tom Strong iii 
 
 " Mutter Strong." He had taken care of her boy. 
 Tom was touched and thankful, but his conscience 
 troubled him. He had long since recognized Hans 
 as the man Zed and he had choked and disarmed 
 when they were on their way back from the Rutgers 
 orchard to Harlem Heights. He felt that he must 
 be forgiven for that. But then he recollected that 
 he had at that time saved Hans's life from Zed 
 Pratt's vengeance. So the account was perhaps 
 balanced. At any rate, he would not tell him now. 
 He slipped down the brookside, screened by the 
 shrubbery, while the unsuspecting sentinel broke 
 all regulations by chatting with Hans. Half an 
 hour afterwards he was led blindfolded before Colo- 
 nel Magaw. He began " Nathan Hale says," re- 
 cited his message, and his unbandaged eyes opened 
 on a hearty welcome! 
 
 " Your friend the trapper gave me the message 
 hours ago," began Colonel Magaw. 
 
 " Oh, is Zed here ? Is he here ? " asked Tom, 
 eagerly. His chagrin at not being first to arrive 
 was much more than counterbalanced by his joy 
 over Zed's safety. 
 
112 Tom Strong 
 
 " He has gone to Fort Lee with General Greene," 
 answered Colonel Magaw. " Do you wish to go 
 after him? I doubt his being there now, though. 
 General Greene spoke of sending him to North- 
 castle at once." 
 
 " Then I'd rather stay here and help in the 
 evacuation, sir. I tan row well." 
 
 " There'll be no evacuation. If you stay here, 
 'twill be to fight." 
 
 " But General Washington's message " Tom 
 
 stammered and stopped. It was not for him to ask 
 for explanations. Colonel Magaw, inclined before- 
 hand by Zed's enthusiastic praise to like the boy, 
 smiled and said : " The Congress has overruled the 
 Commander-in-Chief. We're to hold the fort to 
 the end. Pray God that end does not come to- 
 night. Well, do you stay ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, thank you, sir. What company shall 
 I join?" 
 
 He was sent to the Third Independent New York 
 Company, where he found neither his comrades nor 
 his officers much to his liking, but he was glad to 
 get hold of a gun again, and he patted lovingly the 
 
Tom Strong 113 
 
 bullets given him and proudly adjusted the new knife 
 and powder-horn at his belt. The soldiers' minds 
 were disturbed. There was little discipline in the 
 American army at that time. Officers and men 
 talked freely together. Rumors of Washington's 
 order and of its being overruled by the Congress 
 had filtered through rank and file. The men were 
 disheartened. Fear was flapping its black folds 
 over the Fort. It is a bad flag to fight under. 
 
 The next day, November 15th, Lord Howe 
 sailed his frigates up the Hudson, so as to cut off 
 any retreat to Fort Lee, and sent a demand for 
 instant surrender. He threatened death if there 
 were delay. Lieutenant Cathcart, who had been 
 temporarily transferred from the staff of General 
 Sir William Howe to that of the older brother, Ad- 
 miral Lord Howe, brought the latter's message. 
 While the answer to it was being discussed, Cath- 
 cart was put in one of the casemates, with his back 
 to the only opening, so that he could see nothing 
 of the interior of the Fort. It was useless precau- 
 tion, for nearly a fortnight before William Demont, 
 Magaw's adjutant-general, had deserted at night to 
 
114 Tom Strong 
 
 the British, taking with him full plans of the struc- 
 ture. General Howe knew every nook and cranny 
 of it. 
 
 The American sentinel at the casemate-door 
 would perhaps have done his duty under the regula- 
 tions of war, if he had known they bade him keep 
 still. As he didn't know this, and as he was Mr. 
 Thomas Strong, he spoke as soon as he was alone 
 with the lieutenant. And that he might do so more 
 easily, he walked around in front of him. 
 
 " I can never forget how kind you were to me at 
 the Rutgers mansion." 
 
 Cathcart looked up in surprise. 
 
 " Why, 'tis young Hale," he said. Then he 
 added gently : " Your brother died splendidly. War 
 is a bitter game. But it brings glory ! " And his 
 eyes lit up with a blaze of hope. 
 
 " My name isn't Hale, sir. 'Twas a story I had 
 to tell to try to get to him. He was my Captain, 
 and I loved him." 
 
 " Faith," said Cathcart, lightly, " you gave Major 
 Cunningham a close call. When I tell him I've 
 seen you, he'll roar like a bull of Bashan. He has 
 
Tom Strong 115 
 
 no love for you, young man. He says you've 
 tricked him twice, but nobody can trick him thrice. 
 Beware the prison-ships, my lad. There are sad 
 tales told of Cunningham's prison-ships. But how 
 did you escape? The big major was on the lawn 
 almost as soon as I was, and we saw naught." 
 
 Tom told the story of the climb to the roof, and 
 of his last sight of Nathan Hale. There were tears 
 in his eyes and tears in his voice. Cathcart wrung 
 the boy's hand. 
 
 " It's a pity you're a rebel. Your Captain Hale 
 was no braver man than you." 
 
 While Tom's nerves thrilled with such praise 
 from a foe, the summons came for Cathcart. Tom 
 escorted him to the council-room, where Magaw 
 again greeted him courteously, but condensed his 
 answer to the British Admiral into one phrase : " If 
 Lord Howe wants my fort, he must come and 
 take it." 
 
 Lord Howe proceeded to do so. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 "^OVEMBER isth, 1776. That day came near 
 putting an end to Tom Strong's story. The 
 British attacked soon after daybreak. The attack 
 was directed with deadly accuracy upon the weak- 
 est points. Demont's treachery had told just where 
 they were. Siege-guns on shore, siege-guns on 
 ships, poured shot and shell into the Fort. One 
 cannon ball cut away the upper part of the flag- 
 staff, which fell, carrying the flag with it. Its dis- 
 appearance was the signal for a hoarse roar of ap- 
 plause from the besiegers. 
 
 The flag had fallen almost at Tom's feet. His 
 company was being hurried to a new point in the 
 defenses. A superstitious fear seized them. More 
 than half of them threw away their guns and fled 
 to the casemates for shelter. The few who re- 
 mained saw Tom wrap the flag in a bundle,- tie it 
 about his neck by the halyards, put his knife in his 
 
 116 
 
Tom Strong 117 
 
 mouth and begin to climb the staff. He had 
 climbed many a mast to the roar of wind and wave, 
 as he climbed this to the roar of artillery. In 
 sailorman fashion he knotted the flag to what was 
 left of the staff, unharmed by the hail of bullets 
 that pelted about him. It was a brave deed. The 
 generous foe, having failed to kill him, gave him a 
 huzza of hearty praise. 
 
 But the fort was doomed. Great breaches were 
 battered in its walls. Storming columns formed 
 opposite them. Ammunition was nearly spent. 
 There were knives a-plenty in the American army, 
 but very few bayonets. A charge in force could 
 not be met. The flag came down. A white flag 
 fluttered up in its place. The drums beat for a 
 parley. There was an unconditional surrender, 
 save for the pledge that lives should be spared. By 
 trying to hold an indefensible place. Colonel Magaw 
 and all his force had incurred under the laws of 
 war the penalty of death. Many of them were yet 
 to suffer it, for the Hessians broke loose from their 
 officers' control and began bayoneting the unarmed 
 prisoners. The lust of slaughter was upon them. 
 
ii8 Tom Strong 
 
 When a man sees red, woe betide his helpless vic- 
 tim. 
 
 An infuriated soldier rushed upon Tom. His 
 bayonet, dripping with blood, was within a foot of 
 the boy when Tom flashed under it in a dive and 
 caught the man below the knees. They went down 
 together in a heap. There was a clash of muskets 
 above them as they fell, and a storm of German gut- 
 turals. Then a strong arm pulled the lad to his 
 feet, and a hoarse voice, which he half-recognized j 
 said: 
 
 "Ach, so. Mein twin, I t'ink Mutter Strong 
 came near losing one of us." 
 
 It was Hans Rolf, who had been helping his of- 
 ficers get hold of his maddened comrades. He had 
 come up just in time to ward off another vengeful 
 stab at the prostrate boy. Now, as Tom clung to 
 him in the reaction of weakness that followed his 
 wonderful escape, the tide of murder was being 
 checked. The British troops had hastily thrown 
 themselves between the prisoners and the Hessians, 
 still crazy to kill. A few more lives went out. 
 Then the slaughter ceased. Tradition hath it that 
 
Tom Strong 119 
 
 Washington, watching the massacre from Fort Lee, 
 on the Jersey shore, sobbed with pain and rage. 
 One thing, at least, America won that day. Fort 
 Washington passed under the British flag and be- 
 came Fort Knyphausen. Three thousand men were 
 captured. A vast quantity of cannon, guns, am- 
 munition, and stores was lost. But the Congress 
 never again overruled the Commander-in-Chief in 
 the actual conduct of the war. It hampered him in 
 many ways. It lent a greedy ear to his enemies. 
 It did not give him the men or the money he asked 
 for. But it never changed his orders again. 
 
 " Mein Tom, you have been surrendered, nicht 
 wahr? But prisoners have right to run themselves 
 away, if they can. I would not like Mutter Strong's 
 son to be in dem prison-ships by Brooklyn. My 
 Elector he sells me to make de war against de Amer- 
 icans, but not to send Mutter Strong's son to be tor- 
 tured by dot Major Cunningham. Now, Tom, you 
 see dis sallyport close by. We are mit ourselves, 
 you und me. You run and dot Cunningham no 
 gets you." 
 
 Tom gave him a grateful glance and ran. And 
 
120 Tom Strong 
 
 because he ran to good purpose and was picked up 
 by one of the many American boats that braved 
 the frigates' fire and swarmed along the shore to 
 save runaways, the three thousand men captured 
 were not three thousand men and one boy. Zed, 
 who had returned in Washington's train to Fort 
 Lee, gave Tom a rapturous welcome when the boy 
 arrived. He insisted upon hearing his story in all 
 its detail. When he learned that Hans Rolf, whom 
 he would have killed but for Tom's manly protest, 
 had twice assisted Tom to escape, and had once 
 saved his life, the trapper bowed his head in shame 
 over the temptation that had almost mastered him. 
 There was something suspiciously like a sob in his 
 voice when he thanked God he had not killed Hans. 
 But his natural good spirits soon reasserted them- 
 selves. 
 
 " There's only one thing in the world I can't 
 resist, as a rule," chuckled Zed, " and that's tempta- 
 tion ! " 
 
 " Just now I couldn't resist a chance to eat," 
 Tom said, gayly. 
 
 " Fighting's hungry work, sure enough," agreed 
 
Tom Strong 121 
 
 the trapper. " While it's going on, you don't think 
 of eating, but when it's over, you want to make up 
 for lost time. Come along. I'll introduce you to 
 a colored friend of mine, and he won't let us 
 starve." 
 
 "Who's your friend?" 
 
 " He cooks for General Washington and me." 
 
 " I'm too hungry to refuse anything to eat, but I 
 don't like to sponge on the General, or anybody 
 else, for a meal. And besides, we don't have to. 
 See here." 
 
 Tom held out the eighteen pence for which he 
 had sold his eggs in Donop's camp. 
 
 " Put up your money, my boy. I've got some 
 myself. We aren't a-goin' to sponge. We've got 
 a right to this meal, and to as many more as Moses 
 cooks. When I carried General Greene's des- 
 patches to General Washington, and reported to him 
 about giving his orders to Colonel Magaw, he pulled 
 out some money and said : ' Oblige me by taking 
 this, Mr. Pratt.' Ye see, he had my name down 
 pat. That warmed the cockles of my heart, Tom — 
 funny saying, that; have our hearts got cockles? — 
 
122 Tom Strong 
 
 but the doubloons didn't warm 'em a bit. ' No,' 
 says I, rather short, ' I didn't go to Fort Washing- 
 ton for. money, but to help a great man.' And 
 with that I made him a bow like I saw a gentle- 
 man do one day, and started off. ' Stop, Mr. Pratt,' 
 says he. He says it all quiet -like, but it brought me 
 up with a round turn. ' Since you have been so 
 kind as to help me,' says he, ' what can I do to help 
 you ? ' ' Now, that's talkin'. Your Excellency,' 
 says I. ' Bein' a trapper, I've got. sort of used to 
 goin' hungry, but I've got a boy with me^— Tom 
 Strong, Your Excellency, who tried to save Captain 
 Hale-^and he's always hungry as all out-doors, and. 
 if we could sometimes get some real good things 
 to eat from that old fat Moses of yours. General, 
 why, we'd go to Fort Washington twice a week and 
 never think about it.' When I said that about your 
 trying to save Captain Hale, Tom, the General's 
 eyes just looked all misty. And when I lugged in 
 Moses, he smiled. He's got a real human smile. 
 And he sent for Moses and told him, before me, 
 that he was to give me and my friend, Tom Strong, 
 our meals whenever we wanted 'em, and that we 
 
OPERATIONS IN NEW YORK AND NEW JERSEY 1776-77 
 
 From John Fiske's "The American Revolution," by 
 permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. 
 
124 Tom Strong 
 
 were the men who tried to save Nathan Hale. 
 Well, it seems Mose, like everybody else that ever 
 knew the Captain, just loved him. He's been 
 cooking for me ever since. Colonel Hamilton says 
 Mose has made me ' a perfect Look-uUus.' I don't 
 know what being a Look-ullus means, but it's 
 mighty comfortable. So come along and be one." 
 
 So Tom went along, was deferentially greeted by 
 Moses, and presently sat down to a meal as good as 
 any ever Lucullus enjoyed. He was vastly content. 
 
 Three days afterwards they left Fort Lee in a 
 hurry. So did General Greene, who was in com- 
 mand of it. So did Greene's men. So did not 
 Greene's cannon, tents, blankets, and food. For 
 Lord Cornwallis crossed the Hudson with five thou- 
 sand men on the night of November 19th, a few 
 miles above the Fort. Somebody blundered. No 
 news was brought. Cornwallis and his men were 
 almost at the Fort before it was known they had 
 landed. Greene saved everything that dould walk 
 or run, but not much else. 
 
 The loss of the two forts seemed like the begin- 
 ning of the end. On November 21st Washington 
 
Tom Strong 125 
 
 retreated to 'Newark. On November 28th he fell 
 back before Cornwallis to New Brunswick. On 
 December ist he destroyed the bridge there, and so 
 detained Cornwallis long enough to be able himself 
 to retreat to Princeton. His men, enlisted for short 
 terms, were being mustered out daily. There were 
 many, very many, desertions. On December 8th, 
 with barely three thousand men left, he crossed the 
 Delaware, a number of miles north of Trenton, de- 
 stroying all boats. That very evening, Cornwallis 
 reached the river in hot pursuit. He halted to 
 await the freezing of the river. It was then usually 
 frozen over early in December. Our climate seems 
 milder now. 
 
 The British army centered upon Trenton. Howe 
 and Cornwallis went back to the feasts and fiddles 
 of New York until the Delaware should freeze. 
 There was no feasting in the Continental camp, 
 but the fiddles sometimes sounded there. It was 
 before the birth of the fiddle's younger brother, the 
 banjo, of which Kipling sings : 
 
 " By the wisdom of the centuries I speak — 
 To the tune of yestermorn I set the truth — 
 
126 Tom Strong 
 
 I, the joy of life unquestioned — I, the Greek — 
 I, the everlasting Wonder Song of Youth." 
 
 Tom made the fiddle play quite a fair " wonder- 
 song of youth." So he, with another man's fiddle, 
 and Zed, with his own experiences of life and 
 death, did much to hearten the sullen soldiery, half- 
 fed, half -clad, half -paid, discouraged by defeat, 
 fearful of the future. 
 
 The English authorities, flattered and feted by 
 Tory New York, were sure the war was ended. As 
 soon as the Delaware froze there was to be a sharp 
 advance, a short campaign, and the " rebellion " 
 would be done with. Lord Howe offered a general 
 amnesty. Three thousand men, many of them of 
 importance, swore allegiance to King George. Corn- 
 wallis " packed his portmanteaus and sent them on 
 board ship," so that all might be ready for his 
 return home after he had crushed Washington. 
 Five years later, he did return to London, but York- 
 town, not New York, was his starting-point. Lord 
 Percy took possession of Newport, so that the ships 
 which were to carry the " rebels " back to England 
 for punishment might rendezvous there. 
 
Tom Strong 127 
 
 The patriots were deeply discouraged. The blast 
 of a trumpet put new heart into them. It was Tom 
 Paine's "Crisis" with its immortal line: "These 
 are the times that try men's souls." It strengthened 
 men's souls to do or die. The American army rose 
 to be six thousand strong. 
 
 Then Washington gave our country a Christmas 
 present. It was the famous crossing of the Dela- 
 ware. Under his orders, three brigades were to 
 reach the eastern shore. But it was a wild night 
 and great blocks of ice came whirling down stream. 
 Ewing was afraid to try. Cadwalader tried and 
 failed. Washington, informed of their mishaps, 
 pushed ahead. His boat led the van. Hardy fish- 
 ermen from Marblehead were at the oars. Zed, 
 who had been scouting on the Jersey bank of the 
 \k Delaware till he knew every road and lane, crouched 
 in Washington's boat. Tom was one of the twenty- 
 five hundred men who followed. They landed 
 nine miles above Trenton without the loss of a 
 man or a gun. Then they marched the nine miles 
 in blinding sleet. At sunrise of the day after 
 Christmas they stormed Trenton. 
 
128 Tom Strong 
 
 Tom had clung with freezing fingers to his gun 
 through that terrible nine-mile march. Two Amer- 
 icans froze to death ere Trenton was reached. Or- 
 ders were whispered along the line. Talk was sternly 
 forbidden. Scarcely half the men had shoes, and 
 the roads were covered with jagged ice. They 
 marked their footsteps with blood. Scarcely any 
 of them were properly clad, and the sleet cut them 
 to the bone. Tom thought of how his mother 
 would suffer if she knew of his suffering. Then he 
 smiled, albeit a bit grimly, at the thought of how 
 he would enjoy telling her all about it some 
 beautiful day in the old Dutch cottage in Broad 
 Street. 
 
 Stumbling along in the gray dawn, Tom heard the 
 first shot of the British pickets. He forgot he was 
 tired. He forgot he was hungry. He forgot he 
 was bitterly cold. There was a crashing voUey 
 from the American vanguard. Then there was a 
 run forward, a few hand-to-hand scuffles as the 
 half-asleep Hessians stumbled out of the houses 
 in which they were quartered, an occasional shot, 
 and Trenton was won. Many fugitives got away 
 
Tom Strong 129 
 
 in the semi-darkness, but a thousand Hessians were 
 made prisoners. Among them was Hans Rolf, 
 rubbing his good-natured eyes, still full of sleep, 
 and much relieved when he saw there was to be no 
 killing of captives. Tom came across him, and 
 they rejoiced mightily over their meeting. But 
 when Tom would have condoled with him over his 
 capture, Hans would have none of it. 
 
 " Nein, nein," he said. " De Elector, he sells 
 me to fight you mens. I not fight for my country. 
 I fight to make rich my Elector. Dis no please me. 
 I t'ink America right. I believe vot de tobacco- 
 bags say. Now I stay dis country; I send for 
 meine mutter; she stay mit Mutter Strong till I get 
 my land. Den we happy togedder." 
 
 The " tobacco-bags " had convinced many other 
 Hessians besides Hans. The Congress had offered 
 a free farm to every Hessian who took up the 
 American side. This offer, so alluring to men who 
 could scarcely hope to own an acre of land at home, 
 was printed in German, together with a short argu- 
 ment for the right of America to independence, on 
 a tiny leaflet. These leaflets were put in bags of 
 
130 Tom Strong 
 
 smoking tobacco. These bags were distributed in 
 every Hessian camp. The German troops had no 
 love for the English, no hatred for the Americans. 
 They found the latter a simple, kindly folk, quicker 
 of mind and speech thlan they were, but like them- 
 selves in many ways — cousins german, so to speak. 
 Many of them had already served longer than their 
 promised term, but were denied their right to go 
 home. It is no wonder that the tobacco-bags were 
 good missionaries. 
 
 Tom, rejoicing in Hans's decision, scurried ofif 
 to find Zed. He found him, as he had expected, at 
 headquarters. The old trapper had never seen 
 such a trapping of men before. He was talking to 
 a knot of young officers about it. 
 
 " The General wan't never so big as he was last 
 night," said Zed. " We was all huddled up on 
 the Pennsylvany shore, getting clus to each other 
 so's not to freeze to death 'fore we had a chance to 
 be shot to death. I was near where he stood, 'cause 
 I was to go in his boat. Just then an aide come 
 galloping up like mad. His horse slipped on the 
 ice in the road and come down, kerplunk. The 
 
Tom Strong 131 
 
 young feller just rolled off'n him, sprung to his 
 feet, saluted, and says : ' General, General Ewing 
 says he can't cross nohow ! ' ' Hum,' says the Gen- 
 eral, ' can't cross, eh? ' ' No,' says the aide. ' Did 
 he try ? ' says Washington. ' 'Twan't no use try- 
 ing,' says the officer. Then the General turns to us 
 and says : ' We'll cross now.' That minnit comes 
 'nother aide galloping to kill. ' General,' says he, 
 'General Cadwalader's compliments; he's done his 
 best, and he can't get over. He wants to know 
 what he's to do.' ' Hum,' says the General, ' did he 
 try ? ' ' More'n once,' says the aide, ' but the boats 
 were all swept back.' ' Tell him,' says the Gen- 
 eral, ' he's done better'n General Ewing already, 
 and I want him to do better yet, and get over. Tell 
 him I'll be there when he lands.' He seemed to 
 grow bigger every minnit. He looked all of seven 
 feet tall. Then he says to us : ' We'll cross now.' 
 And we did cross. And that march! Wan't it 
 awful? My blood was all froze stiff, till the firing 
 warmed me up. And I ain't got right warm yet. 
 I'm goin' to stay right by this fire." 
 
 It was a big fire, blazing and roaring in the great 
 
132 Tom Strong 
 
 fireplace. Zed stretched out his arms to it with a 
 vast sigh of content. 
 
 " Hello, Tom ! Come and get warm, son." 
 
 " Haven't time to get warm. Zed. Please come 
 with me." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " To make Hans Rolf an American soldier." 
 
 Tom hastily explained what he wished to do for 
 Hans. Zed groaned at the thought of leaving the 
 fireplace, but said, genially : 
 
 " Well, I reckon I owe Hans something, on your 
 account, Tom, and on my own, too, perhaps. Let's 
 look for the adjutant-general." 
 
 So they fared forth in search of that dignitary, 
 found him, and told their story about Hans. In 
 ten minutes, the Hessian had taken the oath of al- 
 legiance to the United States of America, and was 
 regularly enlisted in the American army. In his 
 new haversack he carried a paper which was good 
 for a farm, if the Americans won in the end, and 
 good for a hanging if the English caught him before 
 the end. 
 
 " Now I American," said Hans, proudly. " Al- 
 
Tom Strong 133 
 
 retty I speaks de language goot as anybody — 
 yah?" 
 
 There waS' a roar of laughter in which the blue- 
 eyed giant joined. 
 
 " Come ahead, Dutchy," said one of his new 
 comrades. 
 
 " I'm not Dutchman," cried Hans. " I'm Amer- 
 ican now." 
 
 " Good for you, Hans." " Good-by, Hans." 
 
 Zed and Tom shook hands with the new Amer- 
 ican, who took his place in the waiting ranks. The 
 order to march was given, and the regiment moved 
 away, while talk and laughter ran down the files, 
 the talk and laughter of victorious soldiery. 
 
 By noon of the next day, Cadwalader had obeyed 
 his last orders. He had done " better yet." He 
 crossed at Burlington, near which Donop was, with 
 the rest of the Hessians. The news of Washing- 
 ton's victory at Trenton and of Cadwalader's 
 crossing reached Donop at the same time. He fell 
 back on Princeton in such a hurry that his heavy 
 guns and baggage, his sick and wounded, were cap- 
 tured by Cadwalader. Donop held Princeton until 
 
134 Tom Strong 
 
 Lord Cornwallis, without his portmanteaus, but 
 with eight thousand veterans, arrived there. 
 
 Jat^uary 2d, 1777, Cornwallis advanced on Tren- 
 ton, leaving two thousand men in reserve at Prince- 
 ton. The countryside turned out to harass him, as 
 the Massachusetts countryside had harassed Major 
 Pitcairn on his retreat from Concord and Lexing- 
 ton in April, 1775. Every stone wall was an im- 
 provised intrenchment. Sharpshooters picked off 
 his officers. It was a battle twelve miles long. His 
 jaded soldiery limped into Trenton late that after- 
 noon. It was a splendid day for America, though 
 history says little of it. The Concord-Lexington 
 fight of country-folk against regulars is better re- 
 membered, partly because it was the first real battle 
 of the Revolution and partly because Emerson, 
 " the Concord philosopher," assured its immortality 
 by his lines : 
 
 " Here the embattled farmers stood 
 And fired the shot heard 'round the world." 
 
 That is better than Daniel Webster's description of 
 " the British drumbeat, which encircled the world." 
 It is as good as Daniel C. French's " Minute-man," 
 
Tom Strong 135 
 
 who stands now in splendid bronze eternity where 
 then the embattled farmers stood. A visit to Con- 
 cord nowadays is a lesson in patriotism, philosophy, 
 history, literature, and sculpture. 
 
 Washington's scanty forces could not hold Tren- 
 ton against Cornwallis's trained legions. He re- 
 treated down the Delaware, across the little Assun- 
 pink River. There he pitched his camp, covering 
 the bridge and fords with his artillery. Cornwallis 
 attacked, but his troops were tired, and as he was 
 sure he had the " rebel " general in a trap, he de- 
 layed the decisive assault until the morrow. He 
 wrote Howe a confidential note : " At last we have 
 run down the old fox, and we will bag him in the 
 morning." To make quite sure of bagging him, 
 the two thousand men at Princeton were ordered 
 forward to Trenton. Few of them got there, 
 though the distance is but twelve miles, and they 
 started before dawn. We shall see why. 
 
 That night Tom, to his intense disgust, was told 
 off with a hundred others, to use spade and pick- 
 axe until sunrise. To his intense surprise, he was 
 ordered, as were all the others, to make all the 
 
136 Tom Strong 
 
 noise he could while throwing up breastworks. He 
 understood why, a half-hour later, when he saw 
 Zed stalking away into the darkness with the other 
 scouts, soon followed by Washington and all his 
 men, except those who dug the ditches with clang 
 of pickaxe, and those who fed the constantly-burn- 
 ing campfires with much noise of falling wood-piles 
 and many shouts. It was a very noisy camp and a 
 very empty one. Cornwallis found it both quiet 
 and empty; when he cautiously attacked it, the next 
 morning. , 
 
 The old fox had " stole away." 
 
 Instead of being bagged, he had done some 
 bagging himself. He had marched around Tren- 
 ton, and before sunrise his vanguard had met the 
 British reserve, advancing from Princeton. At 
 first victory inclined toward the lion. General 
 Mercer, in command of our vanguard, was 
 bayoneted. The troops were in confusion. Then 
 the eagle swooped upon the field. Washington gal- 
 loped forward. His tremendous personality — 
 there was never a man whose presence was more 
 commanding — rallied the broken soldiery and 
 
Tom Strong 137 
 
 hurled them against the foe from whose bayonets 
 they were running a moment before. In twenty 
 minutes the fight was won. With an American 
 loss of less than one hundred, the British lost two 
 hundred killed and wounded, three hundred pris- 
 oners, and all their cannon. They were cut in two. 
 The survivors fled, half to New Brunswick, half 
 to Trenton, where their mournful tale first told 
 Lord Cornwallis where the old fox was, and what 
 he was doing. The British general hastily counter- 
 marched to New Brunswick. 
 
 But when Washington would fain have attacked 
 again, he found his troops worn out. They were 
 shoeless and tired. There was no more fight in 
 them, just then. He had to give them rest. So 
 he fell back on Morristown, where he intrenched 
 himself upon the heights. Putnam came from 
 Philadelphia, where he had been protecting a panic- 
 stricken Congress, and seized Princeton. The 
 threatening Cornwallis was threatened in return. 
 
 In three weeks the kaleidoscope of war had 
 changed, indeed. There was no more talk of speedy 
 return to England. 
 
138 Tom Strong 
 
 Just before Cornwallis did return, in 1781, after 
 his surrender at Yorktown, he spoke to Washing- 
 ton in high praise of the latter's strategy in that 
 campaign, then said : " But after all, Your Excel- 
 lency's achievements in New Jersey were such that 
 nothing could surpass them." 
 
 And so saith history. 
 
 Zed was with Washington at Morristown, much 
 disturbed because Tom had disappeared. He had 
 last been seen, pickax in hand, on the banks of the 
 Assunpink. 
 
 Tom was with Cornwallis at New Brunswick, a 
 prisoner. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 ■f T /■£ left Tom Strong digging mightily at the As- 
 sunpink River. Unfortunately for him, the 
 British found him near there. The officer in charge 
 of the tiny American force was so zealous in the 
 successful attempt to deceive the British general, 
 that he kept his men at work too long. They were 
 allowed to go barely a half-hour before Cornwallis's 
 vanguard charged the camp and won a bloodless 
 victory over the empty tents, the smoldering fires, 
 and the freshly-dug ditches. Patrols of light cav- 
 alry darted about the country in search of the van- 
 ished army. One of these found the vanished Tom. 
 He and his mates had been ordered to disperse 
 and to rejoin the army as they could. Tom has- 
 tened towards the sound of cannon, when that told 
 that the engagement had begun, but he did not dare 
 take the highroad. A bewildering variety of coun- 
 try-lanes led him hither and yon. Not long after 
 139 
 
140 Tom Strong 
 
 the cannonade ceased, he became aware that he was 
 lost. Hunger drove him to a nearby farmhouse. 
 
 " Will you give me something to eat ? " he asked. 
 
 His welcome was not warm. 
 
 " Who are you and what are you doing here ? " 
 
 The man to whom he had spoken was a surly 
 fellow, who kept looking anxiously towards the 
 country-road a hundred feet in front of his house. 
 Farmers in New Jersey had a right to be anxious 
 then, for the British were seizing horses and food 
 wherever they could find them, and few were the 
 people they paid. Moreover, they had an ugly 
 habit of setting fire to stray houses when the booty 
 they yielded did not satisfy them. More than one 
 weeping wife, with her crying children beside her, 
 had seen her home destroyed and herself jeered at 
 for her unavailing sobs. More than one husband 
 and father had been shot or clubbed or bayoneted 
 for trying to save something from the wreck of the 
 homestead. Tom knew this, and thought he would 
 be safe in telling the truth. He answered: 
 
 " I'm an American soldier, and I'm trying to get 
 to our army." 
 
Tom Strong 141 
 
 " No rebel eats here." 
 
 He had made a mistake in his man. Jabez Old- 
 field was a bitter Tory. So far this had saved him 
 from losing his property, so there was no more 
 devoted subject of King George than was Jabez. 
 But he changed his mind, apparently, as he, looked 
 at Tom's face, pinched with hunger and drawn 
 by a sleepless, toiling night. Or perhaps it was 
 because he heard a hearty voice behind say : 
 
 " Now, Jabez, that's a nice boy, if he is so dirty. 
 I don't belifeve he's rebel enough to hurt. And at 
 any rate, he shan't go hungry, for his mother's sake. 
 You have a mother, haven't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," answered Tom, promptly. " I've 
 got a splendid mother in New York." His eyes 
 twinkled roguishly, and he added : " She looks a 
 good deal like you, ma'am." 
 
 " Get along, boy. D'ye think I'm old enough to 
 have a son as big as you? Mine are both wee 
 babies." 
 
 She was not, in fact, many years older than Tom 
 himself, but good farm living and good humor had 
 made her a roly-poly pudding of a woman. Her 
 
142 Tom Strong 
 
 eyes beamed at her husband. His hard face soft- 
 ened at the mention of their children, but his man- 
 ner was still a grudging one as he stepped aside 
 and said to Tom : 
 
 " Well, go in there. She'll give you something 
 to eat. And ye needn't hurry." 
 
 Inside the clean, spacious kitchen, Mrs. Oldfield 
 gave him meat and bread and milk. It was a feast. 
 Jabez had gone away. Where he had gone, Tom 
 was soon to know. 
 
 " You mustn't mind Jabez," said the cheerful 
 wife. " He can't help being worried these times. 
 He'll get over bein' a Tory, too. I keep tellin' him 
 I'm a good rebel. And so I am. You needn't be 
 afraid of me. And Jabez wouldn't ever harm a 
 boy." 
 
 Tom ate the good food and drank the good milk, 
 while his hostess prattled on. When he tried to 
 rise, his legs almost gave away under him. He had 
 not realized how utterly tired he was. 
 
 " Can't I sleep a while somewhere?" he pleaded. 
 " Mr. Oldfield told me I needn't hurry." 
 
 " So he did. You just lie right down on the 
 
Tom Strong 143 
 
 settle there. I'll wake ye up if so be anybody 
 comes." 
 
 He was asleep almost before he had time to say 
 "thank you." 
 
 An hour afterwards (it seemed to him but a sec- 
 ond) he was shaken awake by Mrs. Oldfield. 
 
 "Hurry! hurry! they're coming," she whispered 
 hoarsely to him. "The red-coats are coming!" 
 
 A glance through the window showed him his 
 peril. A cavalry patrol was riding furiously down 
 the lane. The young officer in command was su- 
 perbly mounted. His horse sprang over the Jersey 
 fence as he had leapt many an English wall. Fox- 
 hunting had trained him for man-hunting. The of- 
 ficer was at the door while his men were still 
 fumbling at the farm-gate. He threw himself off 
 with graceful ease, and entered, to be greeted by a 
 courtesying woman, alone, save for two toddling 
 children at her knee. 
 
 " What does Your Honor wish ? " 
 
 " My Honor wishes the rebel you have been feed- 
 ing here." 
 
 Now there was no trace of Tom's meal in the 
 
144 Tom Strong 
 
 room. Everything had long since been cleared 
 away. How did her visitor know a " rebel " had 
 been eating there? A sharp suspicion stabbed her. 
 Had Jabez told? Had he betrayed a guest and a 
 boy? 
 
 " There is no rebel here. Your Honor. There 
 was a boy here, an hour ago, but he's long since 
 gone. I fed him — for his mother's sake." 
 
 She faced the foe defiantly. 
 
 Tom was in the room at that moment. He had 
 hidden himself in a gigantic " grandfather's clock " 
 that stood beside the settle. He was crouching 
 there, in a cramped and painful posture, afraid to 
 breathe, listening with both ears — and wishing he 
 had a hundred — ^to the talk. 
 
 " Search the house," said the officer to his men, 
 who had now ridden up and dismounted. " Stay 
 a minute," he shouted. " I know a quicker way. 
 Toss me that child." 
 
 A screaming child was torn from the mother and 
 handed to him. He drew his sword and held it to 
 the child's throat. Then he turned to the woman. 
 
 " Tell me where the rebel is, or " 
 
Tom Strong 145 
 
 Whether or not she would have told, she had no 
 time to do so, for Tom had heard the threat and 
 had guessed what was going on. The clock-door 
 opened and he stepped out. Half a dozen men 
 rushed at him. His arms were bound behind him 
 in a trice. 
 
 " You're young to be a rebel," said the officer, 
 tauntingly, " but you'll never be any older. Find 
 me a good rope. Jack. One of those apple-trees 
 will bear big fruit now." 
 
 " Jack " was not pleased. He was an English 
 gentleman, a younger son, who was with the British 
 army for a while as a visitor. He had delighted in 
 the scouting work of the patrol, but hanging boys 
 was not his idea of sport. With English frankness 
 he told the lieutenant what he thought of him. 
 There were harsh words on both sides. Finally, 
 however, the suggestion that the boy might tell 
 something of importance, if spared, made an im- 
 pression. Tom was hoisted upon a horse, behind 
 its rider. His legs were lashed beneath the ani- 
 mal's belly. 
 
 " I don't think, my good woman, you will feed 
 
146 Tom Strong 
 
 any more rebels in this house," said the officer, 
 mockingly, as the little company moved oiif. Two 
 men remained. While one of them drove Mrs. Old- 
 field and her children into the yard, the other made 
 a heap of the kitchen furniture, struck fire with his 
 tinder and flint, and set it blazing. They stayed 
 long enough to be sure the house was doomed, then 
 rode away, laughing. 
 
 When Jabez came running a few moments later 
 towards his burning home it was too late to save 
 it. He had feared to find wife and children gone, 
 too, when he first saw the flames. Now he would 
 have clutched them in his arms, but the woman 
 drew back. 
 
 " Did you sell the boy? Did you sell him? " she 
 shrieked. 
 
 His eyes fell. " He was a rebel. And they gave 
 me two sovereigns. See ! " 
 
 He held out the two glittering bits of gold. She 
 flung them into the fire. 
 
 " I'll have naught to do with the price of blood. 
 He saved your child, Jabez Oldfield, and you sold 
 him ! If you hadn't, those devils would never have 
 
Tom Strong 147 
 
 come here, and we wouldn't have a bonfire for a 
 home." 
 
 Suffering does not always come so soon after 
 sin, but sooner or later it does come. Jabez Old- 
 field learned his lesson. He trafficked in " rebel " 
 lives no more. 
 
 Meanwhile Tom was not enjoying his ride. You 
 will know why if you will have yourself tied by 
 your ankles on a barebacked horse, with your arms 
 trussed up behind your back. If the good-natured 
 soldier in the saddle had not put his right hand be- 
 hind him and held hold of our hero, the boy could 
 not have kept his seat. The little troop rode rap- 
 idly, with a couple of scouts well in advance. Some- 
 times one of these would ride furiously back. Then 
 the lieutenant would cry " halt ! " There would 
 be a whispered consultation, after which the direc- 
 tion of the march would be changed. Occasionally 
 they hid in the woods for an hour at a time. Once, 
 when they were so hiding, a company of American 
 cavalry clattered along the road within a few hun- 
 dred feet of them. The British troopers were at 
 their horses' heads, to keep them from whinnying. 
 
148 Tom Strong 
 
 Tom had been hastily gagged. He saw the flag 
 that would have set him free, could he have called 
 to the men who were galloping behind it, but he was 
 helpless. Rescue passed by, leaving him to take up 
 again his weary march to prison or to death. By 
 this time his bound limbs ached so unendurably 
 that he did not much care to which end he was 
 marching. 
 
 Late that afternoon they rode into New Bruns- 
 wick, where Cornwallis had arrived with all of his 
 men who had come safely through that long day. 
 Tom was turned over to the provost-marshal. Cap- 
 tain Errington. His face was chalky-white, and he 
 sank in a heap when unbound. Errington himself 
 lifted him up and put him on a wooden chair. 
 
 " My poor lad," he said, with a kindly glance, 
 " war is a rough game for boys to play at. Why 
 have you been brought here? I hope you are no 
 spy." 
 
 " No, sir," Tom replied. " I'm not a spy. I'm 
 a soldier." 
 
 " But scarcely a veteran at your age. Are all 
 American boys rebels? I remember the boys of 
 
Tom Strong 149 
 
 Boston all seemed to be hearty haters of His Blessed 
 Majesty." Errington's hat came off with a flourish 
 as he pronounced that revered name. " Well, tell 
 me all about it. I may help you. Lord Cornwallis 
 isn't making war on children. If I tell him you're 
 properly repentant, he may let you off easily. Go 
 ahead and tell me." 
 
 " I've nothing to tell, sir." 
 
 " Where were you caught ? " 
 
 " Near the Assunpink." 
 
 " Ah, then you were in the rebel camp there. 
 How many troops had Washington ? " 
 
 " I won't tell." 
 
 " Take care, lad. If you won't tell, perhaps you 
 won't live." 
 
 Tom was silent. Errington looked angry. Then 
 he looked pleased. He was a thorough man, and 
 the boy's manliness appealed to him. 
 
 " At any rate," he said, " you shall have some- 
 thing to eat, though I doubt whether the tongue 
 that won't talk deserves to taste. And you can lie 
 down for a snatch of sleep. You may be called to 
 headquarters any minute, I am told. Food and 
 
150 Tom Strong 
 
 sleep may help you through what awaits you. Don't 
 anger General Cornwallis, my lad. And — ^and — if 
 you should need to send a last message to any- 
 body, Frank Errington will take it. Faith, I'd like 
 to have my brother Harry — he's about your age — 
 show your nerve." 
 
 " I thank you, Captain. If I'm murdered, for 
 'twill be murder if I die, please tell my mother, Mrs. 
 Strong, on Broad Street, in New York, that I've 
 done what I could for her country and mine." He 
 turned away to hide a sob that shook him. Erring- 
 ton put his hand on his shoulder, saying : 
 
 " Steady, my boy. If you're not a spy, you've 
 nothing to fear from Lord Cornwallis. And when 
 I'm next in New York, I'll tell your mother she has a 
 brave son. I'll tell her where you are, too, though 
 much I fear your address for a good while will be 
 care of Major Cunningham." 
 
 " The Major doesn't love me," said Tom. His 
 eyes twinkled, despite pain, fatigue, and danger. 
 And while he ate voraciously of the food brought 
 to him, he told Errington of the luncheon at the 
 Murray mansion and of the escape from the Rutgers 
 
Tom Strong 151 
 
 house. The British Captain laughed heartily, but 
 all he said was: " Pray Heaven the Major doesn't 
 remember you, if you go to the prison-ships. He's 
 not overly kind, even to the prisoners he's never 
 met before." 
 
 Tom's sleep was as sudden and as sound as it had 
 been at Mrs. Oldfield's. Like that slumber, it was 
 broken off. He woke to consciousness to find Cap- 
 tain Errington bending over him. 
 
 " Get up, my boy. You're called to headquar- 
 ters. Keep up your heart." 
 
 The waiting guard marched Tom to a fine old 
 house. Its owner was in a prison-ship off the 
 Brooklyn shore, while the house he had builded as 
 the stately home of his old age was given over to 
 the use of his country's foes. In the great dining- 
 room sat Cornwallis, surrounded by his staff, all 
 brilliant in scarlet. Some of them were stupid with 
 drink, for it was not bad form then, as it is now, for 
 a man to drink to excess, but the General was no 
 slave to wine. He looked the gallant gentleman 
 that he was. Though bitterly disappointed over 
 the events of the day, he had nothing but praise for 
 
152 Tom Strong 
 
 the man who had outwitted him. Some one said 
 something slighting of Washington. 
 
 " Nay, nay," said Comwallis, " he's fit to be 
 
 
 
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 LORD CORNWALLIS 
 From the painting by J. S. Copley 
 
 our foe. There'll be glory in the conquering of 
 him. 'Twas but yesterday I wrote to my Lord 
 Howe that we'd bag the old fox to-day, and to-day 
 
Tom Strong 153 
 
 the fox has beaten the lion. If he were not a rebel, 
 I'd drink his health right willingly. As for me, 
 when he's tried for treason, I hope he may escape 
 Tower Hill." , 
 
 There was a hubbub of voices. Not many of 
 the men there shared that hope. They did not 
 wish " the arch traitor " to go unhanged when the 
 fox-chase was over, and King George supreme once 
 more. 
 
 Tom was kept on the lawn awaiting the British 
 general's pleasure. Word Came out to bring him 
 in. As he was thrust into the room with a grena- 
 dier behind him, the scene reminded him of the 
 luncheon at the Murray mansion. This impression 
 deepened, when his eyes met those of Lieutenant 
 Cathcart, who was sitting near the foot of the 
 table. Cathcart recognized him at a glance. That 
 was evident to Tom. But then he averted his eyes, 
 and his face lost every shadow of expression. It 
 was like putting on a mask. Tom wondered why, 
 and was afraid. 
 
 " Your name ? " said the officer at the general's 
 right. 
 
154 Tom Strong 
 
 " Tom Strong, sir." 
 
 " Where do you live? " 
 
 " New York." 
 
 " You were captured near the Ass-Ass-Assunpink 
 — confound these asinine Colonial names ! " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " What were you doing there? " 
 
 " Hiding in a clock." 
 
 " So you were caught in a clock, eh? " 
 
 " Not exactly, sir. I was in it when I heard 
 the English officer threaten to kill a child, if its 
 mother didn't tell him where I was. Then I came 
 out. I gave myself up to save the child." 
 
 " Ah-h ! " A sibilant breathing ran down the 
 table. Cornwallis looked sharply at Tom from 
 under drawn eyebrows, and said : 
 
 " Lieutenant Barkton threatened to kill the 
 child?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord." 
 
 " Look into that, sir," he said, addressing Cath- 
 cart. " I'll have no red Indian work in my com- 
 mand. No wonder the Americans hate us." 
 
 Tom's examination was resumed. 
 
Tom Strong 155 
 
 ""Are you a soldier ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " In whose command ? " 
 
 " In General Washington's. I am one of his 
 scouts." 
 
 " Oh, you are one of Mr. Washington's scouts, 
 are you ? " 
 
 " One of General Washington's, sir." 
 
 " Don't bandy words with me. We want none 
 of your rebel impudence. What were you doing 
 when you were captured? " 
 
 " Trying to reach our army." 
 
 "Where from?" 
 
 " From the camp south of the Assunpink." 
 
 " How did you come to be there ? " 
 
 " Some of us were left there " — for the life of 
 him Tom could not keep from smiling — " to dig 
 ditches and keep up campfires. That's all I know 
 about it." 
 
 Several of the officers looked very grave, but 
 most of them, albeit with a furtive eye on their 
 General, responded to that smile. Even Ccrn- 
 wallis's lips twitched. The joke had been well 
 
156 Tom Strong 
 
 played upon him. He respected " the old fox " for 
 the perfection of it. 
 
 " Where did Mr. Washington go ? " 
 
 " I heard to-day the General had been at Prince- 
 ton," said Tom, innocently. His questioner bit his 
 lips. 
 
 " How many men did he have? " 
 
 There was silence, a long silence. The question 
 was repeated. 
 
 " I cannot tell you, sir." 
 
 " You mean you will not." 
 
 " I will not tell you, sir." 
 
 Abuse, threats, offers of reward, were all in vain. 
 Asked twenty things, he was silent twenty times. 
 He would neither be bullied nor bribed nor cajoled 
 into giving information. He was ordered back 
 into confinement, but just as he was leaving the 
 room he was recalled. Cornwallis said : 
 
 " Do any of you gentlemen recognize the pris- 
 oner? His name sounds familiar to me. I've 
 heard it before. But the Colonies may swarm with 
 ' Tom Strongs ' as far as I know." 
 
 Nobody recognized the prisoner. Tom glanced 
 
Tom Strong 157 
 
 at Cathcart for an instant, but the latter was star- 
 ing impassively over Tom's head. Just then he was 
 directly questioned. 
 
 " He says he is from New York. You've been 
 there many times, Mr. Cathcart. Do you see any- 
 thing familiar about the prisoner? " 
 
 And Cathcart, taking great pains not to look at 
 the prisoner, bowed respectfully to the General and 
 replied : " I see nothing about the prisoner at all 
 familiar, my Lord." 
 
 Then Tom understood Lieutenant Cathcart. He 
 saw that the English officer had felt that his open 
 recognition of him would have to be followed by 
 telling what he knew of him, and that the stories 
 of the Murray luncheon and the fight in the Rutgers 
 house would harm the boy if told. So he had first 
 ignored him, then kept silent, and finally evaded 
 the direct question. Tom sought to thank him 
 with his eyes, but Cathcart would not meet them. 
 
 He was taken back to Captain Errington, who put 
 him into a shed where a dozen captured Americans 
 were huddled together. The bitter cold could not 
 keep him awake a minute. He dreamed he was a 
 
158 Tom Strong 
 
 child, a happy child, in his mother's arms. The 
 awakening at dawn broke up that pleasing dream. 
 He had a scanty breakfast, and then the prisoners 
 fell into line and were marched off towards Newark. 
 Their guards, albeit a bit rough, were not unkindly. 
 When they halted at noon in a little hamlet, the 
 village, housewives were allowed to give them food. 
 That afternoon Cathcart, riding with despatches, 
 passed them. He spoke to Tom for a moment, out 
 of hearing of the guards. 
 
 " I have seen Errington, and I will see your 
 mother." 1 
 
 Tom's grateful glance was eloquent. 
 
 " Don't let Major Cunningham recognize you, if 
 you can help it. There will be an exchange of 
 prisoners soon. I will try to have your name put 
 in the list. There's no good giving you money now, 
 for it would be taken away from you, but I'll speak 
 a good word for you at headquarters, and it is 
 just possible your mother will be allowed to see 
 you." 
 
 " That would be worth while being captured for, 
 Mr. Cathcart. You are so kind to me, sir, and you 
 
Tom Strong 159 
 
 were so kind when you didn't tell on me. Why is 
 it, sir?" 
 
 " I suppose it's because you are Tom Strong," 
 said Cathcart, smiling. " I like what I've seen of 
 Tom Strong. But you're an expensive young rebel, 
 Tom. But for you, we'd have caught Putnam. I 
 ought to be glad you're caught, but I'm not. By 
 to-night your mother shall have news. of you. Good- 
 by and good luck to you ! " 
 
 He rode on swiftly. Tom plodded on slowly. 
 They were both the better for that talk. 
 
 That night the prisoners slept at Paulus Hook, 
 which is now the site of Jersey City. To Tom's 
 great disappointment, they were marched on a 
 barge the next morning and taken directly to 
 Wallabout Bay, in Brooklyn, where the prison-ships 
 were moored. He had hoped he might be taken 
 through New York, where he would have had at 
 least a chance of seeing his mother. They climbed 
 a ladder to a lofty deck and found themselves upon 
 the " Orion," once a proud ship, now a humble hulk, 
 swarming with vermin and festering- with disease. 
 
 The tales that are told of life and death on the 
 
i6o Tom Strong 
 
 prison-ships are too horrible to tell again. It is true 
 that it was an inhuman age. Honest men who 
 could not pay their debts rotted away in jails, amid 
 discomforts to which we would not subject con- 
 demned murderers now. The prisons of London 
 
 ONE OF THE BRITISH PRISON-SHIPS 
 
 and the prisons of Boston were not fit for beasts, 
 much less men. But the prison-ships of Brooklyn 
 were worse yet, for the inhuman Cunningham had 
 them in charge, and he had a genius for making 
 men agonize. 
 
 Tom was duly examined and registered, then 
 thrust into a foul hold already overcrowded with 
 half-starved men. They were eager for the news 
 
Tom Strong i6r 
 
 with which he could supply them, and they actually 
 gave a feeble huzza over the crossing of the Dela- 
 ware, the battle of Trenton, and the rout of Corn- 
 wallis's reserve. 
 
 " New prisoners on deck." 
 
 The order rang out. The last batch of captives 
 stumbled up through the main hatchway. Major 
 Cunningham sat in an armchair, looking with an 
 evil smile at his new victims. The roll was called. 
 Each man stepped forward in turn. When Tom 
 did so, he kept his eyes on the deck, fearful of 
 being recognized if he looked up. His precaution 
 was in vain. His jailer gave a savage chuckle of 
 delight. 
 
 " Tom Strong ? Yes, I see. I never forget a 
 face. So you're the boy that tricked us at Mrs. 
 Murray's; you're the spy who tried to save that 
 scoundrel Hale; you're the dog who tried to mur- 
 der me. Well, it's my turn now. I'll half-murder 
 you. Boatswain, tie him up and give him twenty 
 lashes. That'll do for a beginning." 
 
 There was a murmur of dissatisfaction. The 
 English sailors were sick of his brutality. But 
 
1 62 Tom Strong 
 
 none dared to speak. He glared at theiu with 
 bloodshot eyes of fury. 
 
 " Tie him up, I say. Be quick about it." 
 Reluctantly two sailors drew him to the main- 
 mast and began to fasten his anus about it. As 
 they were finishing doing so, Lord Howe's barge 
 was seen rapidly approaching the " Orion." In the 
 bustle of receiving the Admiral, Tom was forgot- 
 ten. He stood lashed to the mainmast, his back 
 bare, the cat-o'-nine-tails lying on the deck beside 
 him. 
 
 It was not the Admiral who came. His barge 
 held Cathcart, who mounted the ladder with an 
 order in his hand. It also held a woman, who sat 
 there with clasped hands looking earnestly upwards. 
 Tears and joy were on her face. It was Tom's 
 mother. Cathcart, fearing what might happen in 
 the first rush of fury if Cunningham should remem- 
 ber Tom, had acted as soon as he reached town, the 
 night before. He had gotten an order from Lord 
 Howe, directing Cunningham to allow him and Mrs. 
 Strong to see Tom forthwith; and he had timed 
 their arrival to follow Cunningham's closely. As 
 
Tom Strong 163 
 
 he handed the jailer the order, he caught sight of 
 Tom. It was clear what was to have been done; 
 clear that it had not been done as yet, for there 
 were no bloody welts on the boy's back. He turned 
 angrily to Cunningham. 
 
 "Will you have his mother see him there?" 
 
 "Why not?" sneered the burly Major. "She 
 can stay and see him whipped, an' she will." 
 
 " Do you call yourself an officer and a gentle- 
 man ? Untie him. Untie him, or my seconds shall 
 wait on you in an hour." 
 
 Now Cathcart was a famous swordsman, and 
 the bully, like most bullies, was a coward. Tom 
 was released and reclad. Then Cathcart climbed 
 down the ladder. He returned, escorting Mrs. 
 Strong with profound deference. He had had but 
 to meet her to know that she was a gentlewoman, 
 the equal of any lady of high degree. She clasped 
 her son in her arms. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 'TT^OM'S lot was not a happy one, but it was bet- 
 ter than that of most of his fellow-prisoners. 
 Cathcart had warned Major Cunningham that the 
 boy had powerful friends, and that he must not be 
 abused. Mrs. Strong was permitted to see him 
 once a week, and to write him once a week, by Lord 
 Howe's orders, so that any brutality was sure to be 
 reported. It was hard to be shut in below decks, 
 day after day, however. Tom's thoughts were set 
 on escape. He was confined with about twenty 
 others in a wooden cell on the gun-deck. There was 
 an old gun-port, now heavily grated, but it gave 
 them some light and air. Such luxuries were de- 
 nied to their comrades in the hold. 
 
 Mrs. Strong's letters had to be short and un- 
 sealed, so that they could be read by the jailers be- 
 fore the boy received them, but much can be said 
 
 if one has the key to a cipher. She had told Tom 
 
 164 
 
Tom Strong 165 
 
 to read every fifth word in her next letter. The let- 
 ter was as follows : 
 
 " My dear Tom : 
 
 " I hope you may be better soon. You ought at least try 
 sleeping by window or door. You will see the air is better. 
 Zed Pratt may be the .next man to swear allegiance. Wednes- 
 day last from daylight to night three hundred swore. 
 
 "Your tenderly loving Mother." 
 
 The letter, told nothing to the guards, but by put- 
 ting every fifth word together Tom read : " Be at 
 window, see Zed, next Wednesday night." We 
 may be sure Tom was at the window that night. 
 For a long time he watched in vain. Except for an 
 occasional patrol-boat, he saw nothing. But pres- 
 ently a log came floating down on the ebb-tide. 
 Then another. Then two or three. It was a com- 
 mon enough sight. The shores of the East River 
 were densely wooded then, and many trees floated 
 out to sea. Presently, by the dim light of the half- 
 moon, the boy noted a log which seemed to pursue 
 an eccentric course. Something was guiding it. 
 It came nearer and nearer. As it passed below the 
 gunport a tall man, floating beside it, almost all 
 
1 66 Tom Strong 
 
 under water, put up his arm and threw into Tom's 
 ready hand, stretched out between the bars, a tiny 
 ball of twine. Log and man floated on. Tom un- 
 rolled the ball, one end of which dragged heavily 
 down into the water. Within the ball was a paper. 
 The dragging line, pulled in, brought with it a 
 rope ladder, a file, and some soap. ■ . The paper 
 sai-d : 
 
 " File through the bars above. The soap will deaden the 
 sound. Then pull them over. At 3 a. m., more logs will 
 come down. Drop out quietly. Float with a log. A boat 
 will pick you up." , 
 
 Where there are twenty broken-spirited pris- 
 oners, there is danger of treachery. That had to 
 be guarded against. So Tom picked out the five 
 men he trusted most; woke them up, told them of 
 the chance of escape; and put each of them in 
 charge of three of his comrades. If any man 
 waked he was to be warned to stay still and keep 
 still. If any disobeyed, he was to be choked into 
 obedience. Then with file and soap the attack 
 on the bars began. Three of them were sawn 
 through in an hour. Arms, once strong, and 
 
Tom Strong 167 
 
 strengthened anew by the hope of liberty, bent 
 them backwards. They left a hole through which 
 a man could squeeze. Shortly before three o'clock 
 in the morning logs began to float by. The pris- 
 oners had drawn lots to fix the order of their 
 escape. They had offered Tom the first place, but 
 he insisted upqn taking his chances with the rest. 
 He drew the fifth place. 
 
 Silently the four men before him had slipped 
 down the swaying ladder. Silently he did the same. 
 The next log that floated by carried Tom with it. 
 He was on his back, one arm clasped about the 
 tree-trunk, only that arm and his nose above the 
 water. The first deep breath of freedom was 
 ecstatic. 
 
 But he was not out of danger yet. The dawn 
 was near. He did not know where the promised 
 boat would meet him. When he had gained but a 
 few hundred yards, though the ebb-tide was doing 
 its best for him, there was a commotion on the 
 " Orion." He heard loud shouts, a shot or two, 
 and then a galaxy of lanterns began twinkling and 
 signaling from the old ship's bow. Clearly the 
 
i68 Tom Strong 
 
 escape was discovered. Soon the chase would 
 be on. 
 
 It began forthwith. A dozen patrol-boats were 
 rushed across the water. The darkness hid most 
 of their prey, but they caught a fugitive here and 
 there. At the moment Tom was in luck, for it was 
 Zed Pratt with two Marblehead men who caught 
 him. They hauled him into their boat and started 
 for the New York shore. 
 
 " We must hide till nightfall," said Zed, " and 
 a big town's the best place to hide in." Little old 
 New York really seemed a big town to the trapper. 
 
 As they neared the end of Wall Street, a police- 
 boat shot out from beneath one of the wharves and 
 challenged them. 
 
 "Halt! Who goes there?" 
 
 " A friend," said Zed and whispered to the two 
 oarsmen. 
 
 " Advance, friend, and give the countersign." 
 
 The boat approached the patrol. Suddenly the 
 Marblehead men dug hard at their oars, the rudder 
 was pulled hard-a-lee, and the American boat 
 crashed into the British, head-on. The collision 
 
Tom Strong 169 
 
 sent the police-boat to the bottom. The American 
 boat, with smashed bow, followed in a moment. 
 The water seemed full of struggling and spluttering 
 men. Tom and Zed had dived at the moment of 
 collision, for their enemies were between them and 
 the shore. They came up within a few yards of the 
 water's edge and were soon on dry land. But Tom 
 had struck his head upon something under water 
 and came out sick, dizzy, and trembling. He would 
 have fallen, but for Zed's arm about him. The 
 trapper had intended to use the remaining hour of 
 darkness in getting to the Murray mansion, but this 
 was now impossible. Tom could scarcely drag one 
 foot after another. In a moment he became half- 
 delirious and began to babble of his mother. 
 
 " Mother, mother," he said, " where are you? " 
 " Hush ! " Zed laid his hand lightly on the fever- 
 ish lips. " Hush ! If ye keep still, I'll take ye to 
 your mother. It's the only chance," he added, to 
 himself. " But it's a poor one. They'll sure look 
 there for Tom. But he'd better be recaptured than 
 die. And that's what I'm afraid of." 
 
 Manhattan Island was five blocks narrower at 
 
lyo Tom Strong 
 
 Wall Street then than it is now, so that Zed did 
 not have to push and carry his half-unconscious 
 companion far, before they reached Broad Street 
 and the little Dutch cottage. Mrs. Strong was 
 awake. She could not have slept while she knew 
 her boy was trying to escape. She heard Zed's 
 cautious tap. The door swung open. Zed stum- 
 bled in, and made no noise in his stumbling, with 
 Tom, whose eyes gleamed with joy just once at his 
 mother before he fainted. They carried the boy up 
 into a bedroom under the gabled roof, and got him 
 undressed and in bed. There was matted blood in 
 his hair, where he had struck whatever he did strike 
 — an old pile, a submerged boat — who knows? 
 Mrs. Strong deftly bathed the blood away, and 
 bound up the wound. Tom sank into a dreamless 
 sleep. By this time there was light. Light meant 
 danger. Zed whispered his fears of a recapture. 
 The mother smiled sadly. There was nothing to 
 do, she thought, but to wait — and to hope. The 
 power to hope is a splendid one. It lightens the 
 darkest hour. 
 
 Shortly before noon a British officer came to 
 
Tom Strong 171 
 
 the house, with four soldiers. He was polite, but 
 peremptory. The prisoner Tom Strong had 
 escaped; some prisoner had tried to drown the 
 patrol at the foot of Wall Street, and had landed 
 there; he must search Mrs. Strong's house for her 
 son. 
 
 " My son is here, sir," said the beautiful widow, 
 " but — ^but — he struck his head against something 
 in diving, and — and " She burst into tears. 
 
 " Is he dead, ma'am? " 
 
 " Come -and see for yourself." 
 
 She led him upstairs where in his darkened bed- 
 room Tom lay, absolutely still. His face was 
 deadly white. Flour had been rubbed into it vig- 
 orously. There were great stains of blood on his 
 pillow. Zed had bled himself freely to supply this 
 detail of the tragi-comedy. There was no rise and 
 fall of the chest. Tom had learned by his swim- 
 ming to hold his breath long, but it seemed to 
 him an hour that the officer stood by his bed- 
 side. 
 
 It was really only a moment, however. The 
 young man turned to the widow with a look of 
 
172 Tom Strong 
 
 deepest sympathy, lifted her hand to his lips, and 
 kissed it, and went without a word. 
 
 She burst into hysteric sobs and sank beside the 
 bed, kneeling and thanking God. As the gate 
 clicked behind the officer and his men. Zed crawled 
 slowly out from under the bed, the heavy valance of 
 which had hidden him, and Tom opened his eyes 
 long enough to give one weary wink, while the 
 shadow of a smile played about his mouth. 
 
 " ' And the dead shall be made alive,' " said 
 Zed, reverently. " Mrs. Strong, you done 
 splendid. And as for the boy, he's a play-actor, 
 a reg'lar play-actor, if I ever see one." 
 
 " You don't think it was wicked to deceive so, do 
 you?" queried the widow, anxiously. 
 
 " 'Twould have been a good deal wickeder to 
 have sent the lad back to Cunningham. Never you ' 
 worry your white soul, ma'am. You done right, 
 just right." 
 
 " You've saved me. Mother," whispered Tom. 
 The mother was content. 
 
 It is not possible for a live man to pretend for a 
 long time to be dead. That very night Tom, still 
 
Tom Strong 173 
 
 shaken by the blow on his head, went off in the 
 darkness with Zed. And the next day, a coffin was 
 solemnly buried in Trinity churchyard, at the head 
 of Wall Street. It was supposed to hold Tom 
 Strong. The funeral was a terrible ordeal for his 
 mother, the more so because Lieutenant — now Cap- 
 tain — Cathcart came, insisted upon walking with 
 her to the grave, and talked constantly of her boy 
 as having left her. She could scarcely carry the 
 deception through. She could not cry. " A Spar- 
 tan matron," thought Cathcart. " It is hard to 
 conquer a country that breeds such boys and such 
 women." 
 
 On the register of the prison-ships there appeared 
 after Tom's name: " Escaped; found dead." Cun- 
 ningham smiled when he read it. He did not 
 realize that the boy who was officially dead would 
 scare him half out of his life in the future. 
 
 When Tom and Zed got to Washington's camp, 
 they found a new army in existence. Up to this 
 time (1777) troops had been enlisted for six, three, 
 and even two months. The farmers used to sow 
 their crops, volunteer, fight, and return home to 
 
174 Tom Strong 
 
 reap them. When Washington spent Christmas 
 night crossing the Delaware, the terms of enlist- 
 ment of nearly all his men ended at New Year's. 
 Had it not been for the victories of Trenton and 
 Princeton, and the new spirit they awoke, he would 
 have been left with scarcely a soldier at the close of 
 1776. Since then the Congress had authorized him 
 to enlist for the war about fifteen thousand reg- 
 ulars, and had asked the States to raise sixty-six 
 thousand men for three years in eighty-eight bat- 
 talions. The apportionment of these men among 
 the States shows that New York was then seventh 
 or eighth in population out of the thirteen. For 
 Massachusetts; and Virginia were to raise fifteen 
 battalions each, Pennsylvania twelve, North Caro- 
 lina nine, Connecticut eight. South Carolina six. 
 New York and New Jersey only four each. New 
 Hampshire and Maryland, three each, Rhode Island 
 two, Delaware and Georgia one each. At Morris- 
 town, both Zed and Tom enlisted in the regulars, 
 for the war. They were in the First Continental 
 Regiment. But Zed was immediately detailed as 
 a scout, attached to headquarters, and his piteous 
 
Tom Strong 175 
 
 entreaties soon secured a similar detail for " the 
 boy," as Hamilton and the other aides of Washing- 
 ton had begun to call Tom. 
 
 In 1776 the English Government had ordered its 
 fleet to sail up the Bronx River, north of Man- 
 hattan Island. The Bronx is now a brook, only a 
 few inches deep in many places, and was then 
 little more. In 1777 the Government had learned 
 a little American geography. It decided to cut off 
 New England from New York and the rest of the 
 country by sending General Howe from New York 
 to Albany, General Burgoyne from Quebec to Al- 
 bany, and Colonel St. Leger from Oswego on Lake 
 Ontario down the Mohawk Valley to Albany. 
 Whether or no the plan were wise, its execution 
 was not. Its success depended largely upon the 
 close cooperation of Burgoyne and Howe. The 
 order to the latter was drawn up in the War Of- 
 fice at London. The Minister, Lord George Ger- 
 main, stopped at the office on his way to his coun- 
 try-house to sign the all-important document. He 
 did not like the way it was copied, and sent it back to 
 be rewritten. Then he forgot all about it, and went 
 
176 Tom Strong 
 
 to the country. The order slipped into one of the 
 pigeon-holes of his desk, and was found there later, 
 after Howe had started too late and Burgoyne had 
 surrendered at Saratoga. A diplomat once said : 
 " The longer I live, the less I think of the wisdom 
 
 ^ ^^-'V'^fe^ 
 
 ^fH. •'!! I) 
 
 
 JOHN BURGOYNE 
 
 with which the world is governed." Lord George 
 Germain's carelessness helped England lose the thir- 
 teen colonies. " For lack of a nail, the shoe was 
 lost; for lack of a shoe, the horse was lost; for lack 
 of a horse, the message was lost; for lack of the 
 message, the town was lost." Partly for lack of 
 
FeekskiU ^ ) 
 
 BURGOYNE'S INVASION OF NEW YORK, JULY-OCTOBER, 1777 
 
 From John Fiske's "The American Revolution," by permission 
 
 of Houghton Mifflin Company. 
 
178 Tom Strong 
 
 this message to General Howe, America was 
 lost. 
 
 Burgoyne started from Quebec June ist, 1777, 
 with 7,902 men. Of these, 3,116 were Germans. 
 They were commanded by Baron Riedesel, who 
 took with him his wife and three small children. 
 The invasion was to be a picnic. For a while it 
 was a picnic. Ticonderoga, a strong fort at the 
 junction of Lake Champlain and Lake George, fell 
 almost without a shot. Two years before its Brit- 
 ish garrison had yielded it up to Colonel Ethan 
 Allen, who demanded its surrender " in the name 
 of the great Jehovah and the Continental Con- 
 gress." July 4th, 1777, Burgoyne appeared before 
 it. That night he seized Mount Defiance, a bluff, six 
 hundred feet high, which commanded the fort. 
 The Americans had left this bold crag unfortified 
 because they thought it inaccessible. But a British 
 general, Phillips, said : " Where a goat can go, a 
 man can go; and where a man can go, he can haul 
 up a gun." The rising sun of July 5th showed the 
 gleam of scarlet coats on Mount Defiance. A burn- 
 ing house on the night of July 5th showed the 
 
Tom Strong 179 
 
 American army evacuating Ticonderoga. It was 
 pursued, but marched southward to safety. 
 
 There was much rejoicing over the recapture of 
 Ticonderoga. Burgoyne said of the failure to 
 fortify Mount Defiance : " It convinces me that the 
 Americans have no man of military science." Hor- 
 ace Walpole, whose famous letters are an im- 
 pressionist photograph of the England of his time, 
 wrote of the capture: "The King rushed into the 
 Queen's apartments, clapping his hands and shout- 
 ing : ' I have beat thern ! I have beat all the Amer- 
 icans ! ' " Our general, St. Clair, was greatly 
 blamed. John Adams said : " We shall never be 
 able to defend a post until we shoot a general." 
 
 During the next three weeks, Burgoyne came to 
 think more of the military science of his enemies, 
 for it took him twenty days to advance twenty 
 miles. By this time, Washington had hurried re- 
 inforcements northward. The trapper and the boy 
 came with them. The British general had brought 
 several hundred Indians in his train. They were 
 led by the same man, Charles de Langlade, who had 
 led the French Indians, twenty-two years before. 
 
i8o Tom Strong 
 
 when they shot and scalped Braddock's men. The 
 trapper was to match his wits against his old foes. 
 They were already at their tricks of savagery. Bur- 
 goyne had ordered them to fight in civilized fashion. 
 As well order wild beasts to do so. The great Eng- 
 lish orator, Burke, attacked in Parliament the em- 
 ployment of Indians, saying: " Suppose there were 
 a riot on Tower Hill. What would the keeper of 
 his Majesty's lions do? Would he not fling open 
 the dens of the wild beasts and then address them 
 thus : ' My gentle lions, my humane bears, my ten- 
 der-hearted hyenas, go forth; but I exhort you as 
 you are Christians ... to take care not to hurt any 
 man, woman, or child ! ' " Parliament laughed 
 over the ludicrous picture, but the Indians were still 
 employed. They were scattered over the country, 
 killing and robbing, when Zed arrived and soon 
 showed them that a master of woodcraft was on 
 their bloody trail. One night he took Tom with 
 him to a deserted log-hut a few miles away. After 
 the sun rose, Tom found he was to serve as bait 
 to a trap. Arrayed in a gingham gown and sun- 
 bonnet, he showed himself at the open door two or 
 
Tom Strong i8i 
 
 three times, while Zed peered through a crack be- 
 tween two logs. 
 
 " Off with your togs, boy. They're coming," 
 said Zed. "See!" 
 
 He pointed to the edge of the clearing. Tom 
 saw nothing at first. Then there was a gleam of 
 naked bodies. Soon he noted three half-nude In- 
 dians, hideously bedecked with war-paint, creeping 
 towards the house. His wild excitement was 
 calmed by Zed's absolute coolness. Their wily foes 
 crept ever nearer, then rose and made a rush for the 
 door. But as they dashed in, instead of the woman 
 and children they had expected to find and slay, 
 a long man and a burly boy fell fiercely upon them 
 and destroyed them. The trapper fingered their 
 hair longingly, with a sidewise glance at Tom, but 
 there was no scalping. They carried the Indians' 
 tomahawks, knives, and moccasins to the Amer- 
 ican camp, but that was all. 
 
 There were other mysterious Indian disappear- 
 ances. The savages began to get uneasy. It was 
 rumored among them that " the long man " — ^that 
 was what Zed was called in the Long Houses of the 
 
1 82 Tom Strong 
 
 Six Nations — was tracking them. Then a report, 
 skilfully started by Zed, reached them that the 
 Americans were about to send a detachment into 
 Western New York to lay waste their homes. They 
 got more uneasy. Then Burgoyne tried to 
 discipline some of the worst among them. And one 
 night they all slipped away. Zed Pratt had 
 helped to save the countryside from its worst 
 scourge. 
 
 The countryside had risen in its wrath. While 
 General Schuyler, the American commander, was 
 holding Burgoyne in check, the New England 
 farmers, led by General Lincoln, were gathering 
 at his left, on his eastern flank. At Bennington, 
 Vermont, Lincoln got together horses, powder, 
 food. Burgoyne coveted them. 
 
 On the night of August 12th, Zed and Tom were 
 prowling about the outskirts of the British camp 
 when they noted signs of activity just before sun- 
 rise. Campfires began to glow at an unusually 
 early hour. Zed climbed a tree, as noiselessly as a 
 six-foot snake would have climbed it. Presently he 
 slipped softly down it. 
 
Tom Strong 183 
 
 " One of Burgoyne's aides rode up," he told Tom, 
 " and give a paper to a Hessian officer. The Hes- 
 sian, he nods his head. Then a lot of Dutchmen 
 began to fall in line. There's fun afoot. I'll get 
 back and report. You stay here.'' 
 
 Tom climbed up the tree. 
 
 Presently he saw five hundred of Baron Riedesel's 
 men start eastward. A hundred Indians, new re- 
 cruits, preceded them. The savages went in 
 couples. They were swallowed up in the forest in 
 a moment. The Hessians could be heard a quarter 
 of a mile off; the Indians not a quarter of a rod. 
 One of the latter gave Tom a bad moment, for he 
 stopped at the foot of the tree where the boy was, 
 and studied its bark attentively. Did he see 
 scratches which showed his trained eye that some 
 one had climbed it? The boy lay along a bough, 
 well hidden by the leaves below, but his heart 
 stood as still as the Indian did. Presently the sav- 
 age drew his knife, held it in his teeth, and began 
 to climb. Tom drew his knife softly, ever so 
 softly, from its sheath. 
 
 Colonel Baum, the Hessian leader, rode by at that 
 
184 Tom Strong 
 
 moment with two English aides. They stopped. 
 One of them spoke to the Indian, who had dropped 
 to the ground as they came up. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " said an aide. 
 
 The Indian pointed to the trunk of the tree, then 
 upwards : " Climb. See what made scratch." 
 
 " You're trying to get back to camp. Curse these 
 lazy dogs of savages. Your place is ahead. Go 
 on. Stop skulking." 
 
 He spurred his horse rudely against the Indian. 
 Fire flashed in the savage's eye, but he turned 
 away with a sulky grunt, strode ahead, and van- 
 ished. For a moment he had glared at the officer 
 with open hate in his look. 
 
 " Well, the brave doesn't seem to love you," said 
 the other aide. " Better look out for him in future. 
 If an Indian glared at me like that. Captain, my 
 scalp would twitch." 
 
 " I hate 'em," answered Captain Cumberland, 
 " the beastly women-killers. That's Young Pan- 
 ther, who is said to have killed Jenny McCrea. I 
 hope he's killed himself to-day." 
 
 " He'd like to kill you." 
 
Tom Strong ' 185 
 
 " I'll look out for myself, thank you. Young 
 Panther can't scare me." 
 
 They rode on after the troops. As they did, so, 
 the bushes beside the road parted, and a copper- 
 colored face peered out. It was Young Panther/ 
 He glared long and evilly at Captain Cumberland's 
 back, then glanced again at the tree where Tom 
 lay, hesitated, shook his head, and darted noise- 
 lessly forward through the thicket in which he had 
 been hid. Tom drew a long breath. Then he 
 slipped down from the tree and followed Young 
 Panther. It was clear that Colonel Baum had 
 started for Bennington. Tom must get there first, 
 he thought, or tomahawk and scalping-knife might 
 do their bloody work. It would be easy to over- 
 take the Hessians, but how to overtake the Indians, 
 to slip by them, to give the alarm ? The boy faced 
 that hard task bravely, but fortunately he did not 
 have to perform it. By noon there was a scattering 
 fire of musketry, and an occasional volley ahead. 
 Evidently the yeomen were out. The lesson of 
 Lexington was being repeated on Vermont soil. 
 The Indian skirmish-line had been driven back upon 
 
1 86 Tom Strong 
 
 the main force, which was fighting its way dog- 
 gedly forward against an unseen foe. When this 
 had lasted an hour, an officer came galloping furi- 
 ously. He had been sent back for reinforcements. 
 Baum had been told the countryside was Tory; that 
 it would rise and support his men. It did rise, but 
 it shot his men instead of supporting them. The 
 guerrilla fire could not, however, seriously check the 
 advance of well-armed veterans. Though every 
 now and then a man pitched out of the close-set 
 ranks with the death-rattle in his throat, the column 
 pushed forward. The Indians were busy, too. 
 They accounted for more than one guerrilla. They 
 began to compare scalps, as connoisseurs nowadays 
 might compare miniatures. As darkness drew on, 
 Baum halted his force and intrenched it. Tom 
 fetched a wide circuit around the fortified camp 
 and reached an American force not far ahead of it. 
 By way of practice, he dodged the sentries and pre- 
 sented himself, unannounced, at the log-hut which 
 was occupied by Colonel Stark, the American com- 
 mander, and told his tale. Stark had hastily gath- 
 ered five hundred farmers to oppose Baum's ad- 
 
Tom Strong 187 
 
 vance. General Lincoln had sent him some good 
 officers. More farmers came from time to time. 
 It was between sowing and reaping times, and 
 therefore a good fighting-time. 
 
 My great-grandfather was with Stark. He com- 
 manded a company thirty strong. Of the thirty, 
 eleven were his brothers, and one his wife's brother. 
 
 The next day and the next, torrents of rain for- 
 bade all movement. In those days of flintlocks, it 
 was difficult to fire a musket in a rainstorm. The 
 farmers grumbled over the delay, but they stayed. 
 More of them came. The Pittsfield, Massachusetts, 
 contingent marched in on the night of the fifteenth, 
 at their head the Reverend Mr. Allen, who had 
 baptized every one. of them, and who loved his 
 country as sternly as he revered his God. He went 
 straight to Stark's hut. There was a foolish re- 
 port abroad that Stark meant to retreat. 
 
 " Colonel," he said, " our Berkshire people have 
 been often called out to no purpose, and if you don't 
 let them fight now, they will never fight again." 
 
 " Well, would you have us turn out now while 
 it is pitch-dark and raining buckets ? " 
 
1 88 Tom Strong 
 
 " No, not just this minute." 
 
 " Then as soon as the Lord shall once more send 
 us sunshine, if I don't give you fighting enough, I'll 
 never ask you to come out again." 
 
 The Lord sent sunshine the next morning. 
 
 Soon after dawn American farmers in twos and. 
 threes began appearing on the flanks and rear of 
 Baum's camp. Tfiey made no attack. The Hes- 
 sian Colonel was sure they were the long-expected 
 Tories, coming to his assistance. He held back his 
 Indians from attacking them. 
 
 Colonel Stark got his untrained soldiery into 
 some sort of battle-array in front of the Hessian 
 camp. He pointed to it with his Sword and said : 
 
 " We must beat them, boys, or Molly Stark's a 
 widow ! " 
 
 With a shout the farmers charged. At the same 
 time the flanking forces opened fire. The Hes- 
 sians were caught in a trap. Tom saw about as 
 much or little of the battle as a private soldier 
 usually does. He had borrowed a gun, and he 
 charged with his fellow-countrymen. Clouds of 
 smoke, riven by flashes of fire, a burly Hessian aim- 
 
Tom Strong 189 
 
 ing at him, the gun knocked up, the bullet going 
 wide, himself with his gun at the soldier's breast, 
 the soldier's surrender to him. That is about all 
 Tom saw during the battle, but after it he saw 
 something more. The soldiers had surrendered, 
 the Indians had run. He saw the Young Panther 
 slip noiselessly behind Captain Cumberland, bury 
 his tomahawk in the murdered officer's head, flash 
 his knife for a second, and vanish with the scalp 
 of the man who had insulted him. Beware an In- 
 dian's vengeance ! 
 
 The reinforcements for which Baum had sent — 
 five hundred Germans under Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Breymann — came up just in time to be bagged in 
 their turn. With fourteen men killed and forty- 
 two wounded, the farmers had killed or wounded 
 two hundred and seven and captured over seven 
 hundred. 
 
 Widows were made that day, by the score, but 
 Molly Stark was not one of them. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 T X /"HEN Tom returned to headquarters, he found 
 a new general there. Schuyler had been su- 
 perseded by Gates, who was Schuyler's inferior both 
 as a man and a soldier. Fortunately for America, 
 Gates's brigadier-generals were better than he. One 
 of them was Benedict Arnold, whose record up to 
 this time was not only unspotted, but brilliant. It 
 was on October 7th of this year of Our Lord, 1777, 
 that Tom first saw Arnold. The place was Free- 
 man's Farm, north of Saratoga. The scene was a 
 fight. If there were fighting going on anywhere 
 near him, Arnold was sure to be found in the thick 
 of it. 
 
 By this time the British forces were outnumbered 
 three to one. Burgoyne had ceased to think of in- 
 vasion. He was seeking safety. He decided to 
 intrench himself and await Howe's approach to Al- 
 bany. Howe, meanwhile, had first taken Phila- 
 delphia. His orders to take Albany still lay, un- 
 
 igo 
 
Tom Strong 191 
 
 signed, in Lord George Germain's desk in the War 
 Office at London. 
 
 Benedict Arnold had returned from a splendid 
 success in Western New York. Colonel St. Leger 
 had been routed at Oriskany August 6th. That 
 part of the threefold invasion was beaten back. 
 On that same day at Fort Stanwix, near Oriskany, 
 the first American flag of the present pattern had 
 been raised. The Congress had adopted it in June. 
 Two months thereafter Colonel Marinus Willett 
 threw it to the winds of heaven at Fort Stanwix. 
 Its red was strips from an old petticoat of a sol- 
 dier's wife. Its blue was from an old jacket of a 
 soldier. Its white was from an old shirt. Its thir- 
 teen stars are forty-eight now. This Marinus Wil- 
 lett on June 6th, 1775, captured powder and bullets 
 from the British in New York City. His daring 
 exploit was at the corner of Broad and Beaver 
 Streets. You can see to-day on the building at the 
 northwest corner of those two streets a bronze tablet 
 that tells the story. 
 
 October 7th, 1777, Burgoyne moved his forces. 
 Zed Pratt, swinging on the wind-tossed top of a 
 
192 Tom Strong 
 
 high tree, saw the gathering of the scarlet uniforms 
 and gave the alarm. At first the British gained 
 ground. The American forces nearest them gave 
 way slowly, then began to break badly. Arnold 
 saved the day. He had no regular command under 
 Gates, who disliked him, and was jealous of him, 
 but the sound of firing drew him as a magnet draws 
 iron. He leapt upon his horse and galloped towards 
 it. Gates saw him and shouted to an orderly: 
 " Call back that fellow, or he will be doing some- 
 thing rash ! " He did do something rash, and he 
 thereby won a victory. The Americans were so 
 disorganized that they were practically fighting each 
 .for his own hand. Zed and Tom, lying behind a 
 big log, were steadily loading and firing. So were 
 some thousands of their comrades. But all was 
 confusion, and everybody was discouraged. 
 
 " If Washington was only here," groaned Zed. 
 " If he was here, you 'n I wouldn't be trying to hold 
 off an army, singlehanded. There'd be a charge 
 just now, and while the Britishers were pushed back, 
 all these scattered folk 'd git together again and be 
 an army again." 
 
Tom Strong 193 
 
 As he spoke, there was a cheer, a rush, and 
 Arnold came galloping on the field. He had 
 spurred his horse to a mad run. While many men 
 followed him, some mounted, some on foot, he left 
 them far behind. He struck the British line alone, 
 but he struck it like a thunderbolt. It gave way 
 
 BENEDICT ARNOLD 
 
 before him, and his followers rushed into the gap. 
 The day was won. 
 
 When Arnold checked his horse and turned to 
 survey the space he had gained, a wounded German 
 lying on the ground shot at him. The bullet killed 
 
194 Tom Strong 
 
 his horee and broke the same leg which Arnold had 
 almost lost when he stormed Quebec two years be- 
 fore. Horse and man came to the ground with a 
 crash. A dozen men rushed with lowered bayonets 
 upon the wounded Hessian, but Arnold's clear voice 
 rang out : " For God's sake, don't hurt him ; he's a 
 fine fellow ! " And he wasn't hurt. " This was 
 the hour," well says John Fiske, the best historian 
 of our Revolution, " when Benedict Arnold should 
 have died." 
 
 There is a pretty story of what happened to one 
 British regiment that day. Cut off from its fel- 
 lows and ringed about with fire, the men were mad 
 with thirst. The only water supply was com- 
 manded by American sharpshooters. Man after 
 man volunteered to bring water. Every man was 
 shot down. Then a soldier's wife seized a bucket 
 and ran across the shot-swept field. Not a musket 
 cracked. She went and came back in safety. 
 Honor to her and honor to the men whose Amer- 
 ican respect for womanhood spared her. 
 
 Now Burgoyne was shut up at Saratoga, and Sir 
 Henry Clinton, whom Howe had left in command 
 
Tom Strong 195 
 
 at New York, was slowly moving up the Hudson to 
 join Burgoyne. Part of Gates's troops was sent 
 south to check Clinton. Zed and Tom were sent 
 with them. The two armies came in touch with 
 each other just north of Peekskill-on-Hudson, but 
 the American force was too weak to do more than 
 skirmish and delay. 
 
 Tom and Zed were on a scouting trip. They had 
 agreed to meet at noon on a certain high bluff 
 about two miles from the British camp, and about 
 the same distance from the Americah outposts. 
 They had but one haversack between them. It held 
 food for both of them. Zed happened to carry it. 
 Tom was late in getting to the rendezvous. He 
 was sharp-set with hunger, and was licking his 
 lips at the thought of luncheon. Fortunately he 
 was licking them noiselessly. By this time he had 
 learned how to move almost without a sound. Zed 
 had taught him. To-day Zed was to be repaid for 
 his teaching. For as Tom walked Indian- fashion 
 toward the bluff, he heard a hearty English voice. 
 Its accents were very unlike those the quiet forest 
 and the lurking Indian had taught Zed in the wilder- 
 
196 Tom Strong 
 
 ness of Western New York. The boy dropped 
 silently on all fours and wriggled his way to the 
 edge of a little clearing. The hut that had once 
 crowned the bluff was a heap of blackened logs, 
 covered by vines with which nature had been busy 
 for two years in hiding man's handiwork of con- 
 struction and destruction. Some of these vines had 
 been put to an unnatural use. They had been knot- 
 ted around Zed, who was thus lashed to a solitary 
 tree which had once shaded what had been a home. 
 
 Three English soldiers and an Indian were squat- 
 ted near him. His haversack lay on the ground 
 between them. Zed looked profoundly disgusted, 
 and al^o very hungry. His captors jeered at him 
 as they ate. A soldier held a sausage up to Zed's 
 mouth, which opened eagerly for it. It was 
 snatched away with a laugh. 
 
 " This is what I like — ^living on the enemy," said 
 the soldier. 
 
 " The rebels live well," said another. " This fel- 
 low has enough for four men." 
 
 " Perhaps t'other three are somewhere near." 
 The speaker looked around uneasily. He turned to 
 
' Tom Strong • 197 
 
 Young Panther. " Did you see any traces of other 
 rebels, when you caught this one ? " 
 
 " No. He alone," grunted the Indian. 
 
 They finished every scrap of the food, before 
 Zed's and Tom's greedy eyes. As they got to their 
 feet. Young Panther asked : 
 
 " Want see fun ? " 
 
 He looked at the bound prisoner and drew his 
 tomahawk. 
 
 " No, no," said the English corporal. " None 
 of that. We're no murderers. We'll take him into 
 camp and turn him over to Sir Henry," 
 
 " No kill him; no hurt him; scare him — yes," 
 said the Indian. 
 
 " It's good sport," interrupted one of the sol- 
 diers. " I've seen 'em do it. The savages can 
 put a tomahawk within an inch of a prisoner, and 
 never touch him. It's better'n cock-fighting or 
 bear-baitin'." 
 
 " Well, try a throw or two." 
 
 Young Panther walked off about ten paces and 
 poised his tomahawk. 
 
 " By his shoulder. Watch!" 
 
198 Tom Strong 
 
 Tom had drawn his pistol. He meant to cut 
 that brutal game short at any risk. But just then 
 he caught Zed's eyes. The trapper had seen him 
 long before. The eyes said " No, no," as clearly 
 as eyes could. Tom's arm sank down again beside 
 him. There was a breathless hush. The toma- 
 hawk flew through the air like an arrow. Zed 
 lurched to one side just a little, barely an inch, 
 but he lurched towards the flying blade, not away 
 from it, and the keen little ax cut through the vine 
 that bound him to the tree. The green chains 
 dropped, as the tomahawk quivered in the tree- 
 trunk. 
 
 He whirled, grasped the weapon, and leaped like 
 a panther between the startled soldiers and their 
 three muskets, which were stacked together. Tom 
 fired his pistol and sprang into the clearing, shout- 
 ing " Forward, men ! " to imaginary Americans be- 
 hind him. The soldiers dropped on their knees, 
 calling : " We surrender ! Mercy ! " Young Pan- 
 ther whirled around as Tom's bullet struck him, 
 sped to the edge of the cliff, and hurled himself 
 downward to death on the rocky edge of the Hud- 
 
Tom Strong 199 
 
 son. The bluff is called " The Indian's Leap " to 
 this day. 
 
 " I have 'em, lad. Tie 'em," shouted Zed. 
 
 The trapper had caught up a British musket and 
 leveled it at the cowering British. The vines that 
 had bound Zed now bound behind them the hands 
 of his captors. Tom slung upon his back one of 
 the other two guns, and took the second. 
 
 " Forward, march," commanded Zed, " and be 
 quiet about it." The captives began to stumble 
 ahead, but one or two prods with their own bayonets 
 quieted their steps. Very meekly they walked the 
 two miles to a point where they and their guns were 
 turned over to an American outpost. It was only 
 mid-afternoon, so Tom and Zed, after a hasty meal, 
 ■harked back to danger once again. As they plodded 
 away, Zed remarked in a meditative fashion : 
 
 " Young Panther was a good man." 
 
 " A good man ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " A better man than I be." 
 
 " What nonsense, Zed ! " 
 
 " I'll tell you why. I was a-trackin' him and he 
 tracked me. I lost sight of him and was tryin' to 
 
200 Tom Strong 
 
 find him. Well, I did. He must a-come round in 
 a circle and got behind me. First thing I knew, 
 he was on my back, squeezing my throat like one 
 of them boa-constrictors I've heard tell about. 
 When I come to, he and the three soldiers had me 
 trussed up to that tree. Gee, Tom, I was glad 
 when I saw you at the edge of the forest. You 
 read my eyes just right when you didn't fire. 
 You're learnin', son, you're learnin'." 
 
 That was praise, indeed, from the trapper. The 
 boy colored with pride and pleasure. 
 
 " Thank you, Zed. What are we going to try to 
 do now ? " 
 
 " I figure out the thing this way, Tom. There's 
 Burgoyne cooped up at Saratoga, and here's Sir 
 Henry Clinton trying to get to him. Now what's 
 the natural thing for Sir Henry to .do ? Ain't it 
 to try to git word to Burgoyne ? " 
 
 " It does seem so." 
 
 " Well, while those fellows were a-talkin' before 
 me — that was before they began eatin' our food be- 
 fore us — one of 'em said : ' How's Johnny goin' ? ' 
 ' By the inner road,' says another. ' Hush,' says 
 
Tom Strong 201 
 
 the corporal, ' you're talkin' too blamed much.' So 
 I suspicion there's a messenger goin' to-night by the 
 inner road. That ain't far in from here. And 
 that's why I've taken you plumb east. If we could 
 catch him, 'twould be better even than them three 
 Britishers and their three guns. I kept Young 
 Panther's tomahawk." 
 
 Zed patted it lovingly as it swayed at his side. 
 " Did I kill Young Panther? " 
 " No, son, you hurt him. Thank God you did. 
 But' he killed himself by jumpin'. An Indian 'd 
 rather be dead than not free. And so 'd these 
 United States of America. That's why we're 
 here." 
 
 " I'm glad we know the messenger's name is 
 Johnny." 
 
 " That's just what his name won't be, son." 
 " But you said they called him Johnny." 
 " He won't call himself so. Of course he'll 
 change his name." 
 
 " What do you think he'll call himself. Zed? " 
 " Well, don't you think it'll be Gerald Carruthers 
 or Theodore Stanhope ? " 
 
202 Tom Strong 
 
 Zed chuckled as he put the question. Tom re- 
 membered that these high-sounding names were 
 those he had wished to use when he became General 
 Howe's i^ssistant groom. He laughed a little, too, 
 but shamefacedly. By this time they were at the 
 edge of the " inner road." It was little more than 
 a trail through the trees. The trapper . bid Tom 
 stand still while he himself examined it with the 
 minutest care. 
 
 " Ain't nobody been along here to-day," he ex- 
 claimed, with great satisfaction. " It ain't likely 
 Johnny'U come for some hours yet. Wake me up 
 when the shadow of that bush gets there." He 
 marked " there " by sticking a twig in the ground, 
 lay down, and was sound asleep in a moment. He 
 slept like a child. Tom, sitting beside him, could 
 scarcely believe that within a few hours this man 
 of iron nerve had been trussed to a tree and almost 
 tomahawked. It seemed like a hideous dream. 
 The sight of Young Panther's hatchet in Zed's belt 
 made it all real again. He carefully detached it 
 and sat playing with it. Suddenly the trapper woke 
 and sprang to his feet. Tom had not heard a 
 
Tom Strong 203 
 
 sound, but Zed's highly-trained ear had heard it in 
 his sleep. He stood, bending forward, glaring at 
 the thicket across the trail as if he would pierce it 
 with his keen eyes. It was just about dusk. There 
 came out of the thicket a lout, who walked up to 
 them. 
 
 " Evenin'," he said. " I was scared when I seen 
 you two, but then I see the tomahawk the boy had 
 and I knew 'twas all right. Sir Henry told me he'd 
 served out some tomahawks to the true-blues, and 
 so I could trust anybody I saw with one of them. 
 But— p'haps other people has 'em, too." He 
 stopped, with a feeble, propitiatory smile. 
 
 "That's the right mark, isn't it?" asked Tom. 
 He held out Young Panther's tomahawk, which was 
 stamped with the royal arms of England. It had 
 been a present from George III of England 
 to his well-beloved beast of prey, the Young 
 Panther. 
 
 "That's right," said the lout. "How do you 
 gentlemen call yourselves ? " 
 
 " I'm Tom Smith," answered our hero, " and this 
 is Mr. Zed Porter. Who are you ? " 
 
204 Tom Strong 
 
 " I'm Frederick Sinclair. Are you goin' my 
 way ? " 
 
 "Which is that?" 
 
 " To General Burgoyne. Where'll I find him? " 
 
 " It'll take you three days to get to him — if you 
 ever do. These woods are dangerous. But we'll 
 go on a piece with you. You said your name was 
 Frederick — Frederick Sinclair, didn't you ? " 
 
 " That's what it is." 
 
 " You go ahead with him, Tom. I'll follow," re- 
 marked Zed. The two had walked perhaps a hun- 
 dred feet, when Zed slowly drawled out: 
 
 "I say, Johnny!" 
 
 "What is it?" asked Frederick Sinclair. Then 
 he grew pale and began to explain that " Johnny " 
 was a " sort of pet name " of his, but his real name 
 was Frederick, etc., etc. 
 
 " Guess we'd better search him, Tom, and see if 
 he has any other pets about him," said the trapper, 
 " I don't like a fellow named Frederick that an- 
 swers to ' Johnny.' Seems queer." 
 
 The spy glanced at the bushes, but Zed seized his 
 arm. A man who had almost crept by them with- 
 
Tom Strong 205 
 
 out being seen or heard must not be suffered to get 
 under cover again. 
 
 " I hain't nothin' about me 'cept a few shilHn's of 
 my own," Johnny pleaded. " And I'd give those 
 for a good bed somewhere." 
 
 He yawned and put up his free hand to cover 
 the yawn, apparently. There was something in 
 that hand, however, something gleaming, and Tom 
 caught sight of it as he slipped it into his mouth. 
 Tom clutched at his throat, but there had been time 
 for a gulp, and the thing, whatever it was, had been 
 swallowed. 
 
 " He swallowed something, Zed," called Tom, in 
 great excitenjent. " I saw him do it. Looked like 
 silver." 
 
 " What are you swallowing your shillings for ? " 
 demanded Zed. 
 
 " I didn't ! Didn't swallow nothin'." 
 
 " Be ye sure, boy? Careful, now. It's a man's 
 life we're talkin' about." 
 
 " I'm sure." 
 
 " Then Johnny has swallowed Sir Henry's mes- 
 sage. Hold him. We'll get it back." 
 
2o6 Tom Strong 
 
 While Tom held the frightened prisoner in a grip 
 of iron, Zed scraped off some bark from a sapling, 
 mixed it in a tin cup with powder and water, and 
 held it to the lips of the spy, commanding him to 
 drink it. 
 
 " I won't," gasped the prisoner. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you will," said Zed. " Soon's I pull 
 your nose for you, you'll drink it." 
 
 He held the spy's nostrils until he had to open his 
 mouth to breathe. Thereupon the dose that was 
 to be his undoing was poured down his throat. It 
 was a strong emetic. Nature promptly restored to 
 the outer world from the prisoner's interior econ- 
 omy a silver bullet. 
 
 " There, you see. 'Tain't nothin' but a bullet. I 
 had it made to shoot a witch with, up Albany way, 
 where I live," shrieked the writhing wretch. 
 " When you caught hold of me, it gave me the 
 jumps, and I swallowed it 'fore I thought. Give 
 it back to me ! " 
 
 The fear of death drove him to action. He 
 clutched at the bullet, which lay in Zed's palm. 
 The trapper evaded his grasp. 
 
Tom Strong 207 
 
 " Steady, steady, Mr. Frederick Sinclair. There's 
 a hole been cut in this bullet, and then plugged up. 
 What's that for?" 
 
 " To make it heavy enough, of course. A silver 
 bullet's too light unless you plug it with lead." 
 
 "Or paper?" asked Zed. The prisoner's eyes 
 dropped. He gave a dry moan. 
 
 They marched him to the American camp. There, 
 while Johnny was strictly guarded, the silver bullet 
 gave up its secrets. The plug was pried out. 
 Within was a letter on tissue paper, from Sir Henry 
 Clinton to General Burgoyne, telling him of his 
 approach, his forces, his plans, of everything it be- 
 hooved Burgoyne to know in order that he might 
 defend himself with renewed spirit until Clinton 
 came. A court-martial was called. In a tent, by 
 the light of a flickering candle, eight officers sat in 
 judgment. Zed a^id Tom told their tale. The 
 bullet and the tissue paper told theirs. The wretch 
 admitted his guilt and with tears and sobs begged 
 for the life he had forfeited. In courts-martial the 
 officer lowest in rank is called upon for his opinion 
 first. Solemnly the question was put. A boyish 
 
2o8 Tom Strong 
 
 captain rose to his feet and said, with a break in 
 his voice : 
 
 " Guilty as charged. Death by hanging." 
 
 Voice after voice uttered the same doom. The 
 prisoner gave a great and bitter cry, and collapsed 
 unconscious. He probably felt nothing and knew 
 nothing when he was swung into eternity in a near- 
 by, apple orchard. 
 
 " I'll catch no more spies," said Tom. " It may 
 be right to hang 'em, but I'll catch no more." 
 
 " And I suppose you'll shoot no more Indians, 
 either," suggested Zed, with a grin. " It's unlucky 
 for the Young Panther you didn't make up your 
 mind to that this morning." 
 
 " That's different," answered Tom. " Young 
 Panther was shot for your sake. Zed." 
 
 " And Johnny's been hung for our country's sake, 
 lad." 
 
 Tom had no answer ready, but he shook his head. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 ' I ""HE contents of the silver bullet showed Gen- 
 eral Gates all of Sir Henry Clinton's plans, 
 and how to checkmate them. Clinton could not get 
 north. Burgoyne could get neither north nor 
 south. He stayed still; was steadily besieged; 
 starved a bit; surrendered. On October 17th, 1777, 
 the army which was to have riven America 
 asunder laid down its arms at the feet of an Amer- 
 ican force. Burgoyne, though hopelessly outnum- 
 bered, had shown the fine spirit of an English 
 gentleman, and had refused to surrender uncondi- 
 tionally. He got a promise of what he asked, the 
 transportation of his army to England under pledge 
 not to serve again in the war. I regret to say that 
 the Congress afterwards refused to do this. " The 
 publick faith is. broke," wrote Burgoyne to Gates. 
 And it was. Moreover, the Congress tried to make 
 
 Burgoyne pay in gold at par for supplies purchased 
 209 
 
2IO Tom Strong 
 
 for him in Continental currency, then worth thirty 
 cents on the dollar. 
 
 For some days and nights before the surrender, 
 the women and children of the British headquarters 
 had lived in a cellar. Food and water were scarce. 
 Cannon-balls crashed through the house above 
 them. War had ceased to be a picnic. They, at 
 least, were glad to surrender. When Baroness 
 Riedesel came up with her three children to the 
 outer air, no longer heavy with gunpowder, a tall 
 and stately gentleman, in the uniform of an Amer- 
 ican general, advanced to meet her. He gave her a 
 profound bow. He kissed the children, who ran 
 to him with that sure instinct children and dogs 
 have for a gentleman. It was General Schuyler, 
 who said to the Baroness : 
 
 " It may be embarrassing to you to dine with 
 so many gentlemen. If you will come with your 
 children to my tent, I can give you a frugal meal, 
 but one that will at least be seasoned with good 
 wishes." 
 
 " Oh, sir, you must surely be a husband and a 
 father, since you show me so much kindness." 
 
Tom Strong 2 1 1 
 
 Schuyler's kindness did not end with the meal 
 that was seasoned with good wishes. He took the 
 Riedesel family to his fine house in Albany, where 
 Mrs. Schuyler made them welcome. There was a 
 sensation there at dinner, one day, when, before a 
 large company of guests, one of the children art- 
 lessly called out : " Oh, mamma, is this the palace 
 which papa was to have when he came to Amer- 
 ica ? " The Hessian generals had been promised the 
 estates of rich Americans as their share of the plun- 
 der of a country-to-be-conquered. 
 
 Schuyler also had as his guest General Burgoyne, 
 who had destroyed by fire the country mansion of 
 the Schuylers, neal^ Saratoga. The American had 
 a soul as great as his great possessions. 
 
 Part of General Gates's army was ordered to 
 reinforce Washington, who was then holding with 
 starving troops the lines of Valley Forge, while a 
 few miles off, at Philadelphia, Howe's well- 
 appointed army feasted and fiddled the days away. 
 Tom and Zed spent a weary winter at Valley Forge, 
 but the monotony of it had some breaks. Once 
 they feasted royally, at the expense of Tom's old 
 
212 Tom Strong 
 
 enemy, Major Cunningham. This was the way 
 of it. 
 
 " I've got a furlough for terr days," Zed casually 
 remarked. 
 
 " Why didn't you get one for me ? " asked Tom. 
 
 PHILIP SCHUYLER 
 
 " It's man's work I'm going on, not child's play, 
 so, you see, a mere boy like you " 
 
 " Why, Zed, are you really going to leave me be- 
 hind?" 
 
 " Ye know I ain't. Here's your furlough, same's 
 as mine." 
 
Tom Strong 213 
 
 Then Zed explained his plan. Philadelphia was 
 a gay town under the British rule. There were 
 breakfasts and balls; dinners and dances. Late 
 every night or early every morning, when plain folk 
 were abed and asleep, officers of high rank were 
 going to their temporary homes, often with no 
 escort to speak of. Why not capture some of 
 them ? Why not try to bag General Howe himself ? 
 The plan was the more attractive, because every- 
 body knew Washington would be glad to have some 
 general officer captured, who could be exchanged 
 for Major-General Charles Lee. 
 
 Lee, though he had an estate in Virginia, was no 
 kin to the great Lee family of that Commonwealth. 
 He was a soldier of fortune, who had been a lieu- 
 tenant-colonel in the British army,- and an aide of 
 Stanislas, King of Poland, and who now ranked 
 next to Washington in the Continental army. Hp 
 had been captured at a Jersey inn, some months be- 
 fore, where he had shown the white feather and 
 plead for his life like a coward. He was worse 
 than a coward, for he was a traitor. When he was 
 brought to New York, Howe thought of hanging 
 
214 Tom Strong 
 
 him, but didn't, because he feared he might " fall 
 into a law-scrape " by doing so. But as he then 
 passed at his own valuation of himself as a soldier 
 in both camps, Howe declined to exchange him for 
 any one not of equal rank. The Americans had 
 no British major-general on hand, so Lee stayed in 
 prison. While there, he gave Howe a plan for at- 
 tacking the Americans by way of Maryland and 
 Philadelphia. The plan was adopted, and resulted 
 in the capture of Philadelphia, and the flight of the 
 Congress to Lancaster. Lee's treachery, of course, 
 was unsuspected then. Later it was surmised, but 
 not certainly known for eighty years. About the 
 middle of the last century there was found in an 
 English country-house, owned by the family to 
 which Strachey, General Howe's secretary, be- 
 longed, a memorandum suggesting the Philadelphia 
 campaign. It is in Lee's handwriting, and is in- 
 dorsed in the secretary's handwriting : " Mr. Lee's 
 plan, March 29, 1777." We can bracket Charles 
 Lee and Benedict Arnold together, and apply to 
 them Lord Byron's line : " Arcades ambo, black- 
 guards both." But Washington, knowing naught 
 
Tom Strong 215 
 
 of this, wished to capture somebody to be bartered 
 for Lee. So Zed and Tom decided to capture 
 Howe for their beloved General. 
 
 They made their way into Philadelphia as 
 vegetable-sellers. The lank trapper stalked beside 
 a lank horse, which drew a load of potatoes and 
 turnips. The stout boy followed the wagon. Both 
 called out the praises of their wares, even as street- 
 sellers do to this day. A Quaker farmer living 
 near Germantown had rented them the horse and 
 wagon, and sold them the vegetables. They had 
 taken him partly into their confidence. He claimed 
 to be a patriot, but evidently his patriotism did not 
 affect his prices, for they soon found they could 
 not sell except at a loss. Perhaps it was the 
 Quaker way of making war upon the British. But 
 by a lucky chance Zed and Tom had recently been 
 paid for the last eight months of service. They 
 had changed the Continental currency into real 
 money. While it shrunk greatly in the process, 
 they had enough to carry on their vegetable-hawk- 
 ing for several days. They were freely admitted 
 to the town by the English outposts, and they 
 
2i6 Tom Strong 
 
 walked about it, through it, up and down its streets, 
 until they knew it thoroughly. They knew where 
 Howe lived; where his brigadiers lived; where the 
 houses of the rather pompous aristocracy of the 
 town were. They knew that on the coming Satur- 
 day night there was to be a stately festivity at the 
 Shippen mansion. A ball was to be given there 
 for the daughter, the heiress, the pride of the house, 
 Mistress Margaret Shippen. The English officers 
 at New York as well as at Philadelphia were bid- 
 den to the ball. Among those who came from New 
 York were Major Cunningham and Major John 
 Andre. 
 
 General Howe's house was but a few doors from 
 the Shippen home. Zed's plan was to gain admit- 
 tance to the General's quarters ; seize him as he went 
 to his bedroom after his return' from the ball; stifle 
 any outcry; and take him through the lines in the 
 vegetable wagon, covered with the bags in which 
 the potatoes were brought to market. The wagon 
 itself was to be brought to the alley at the rear of 
 headquarters by Tom. He forbade Tom to try to 
 enter the house under any pretext. If any one 
 
Tom Strong 217 
 
 questioned him while he was in the alley, he was to 
 be " waiting for the ashes." 
 
 Zed got into General Howe's house. Tom 
 waited in the alley. That was all the good it did 
 them. Their rustic souls had not appreciated the 
 Philadelphia power of turning night into day. 
 When dawn was near, the end of the Shippen ball 
 seemed nowhere near. There was no use in try- 
 ing to carry a portly British general, scantily cov- 
 ered by potato-bags, past British sentinels in broad 
 daylight. Ruefully Zed rejoined Tom. He never 
 would tell Tom how he got into and out of the 
 house, but the wagon had stopped there daily, and 
 Zed had talked a good deal longer to the mamrnoth 
 colored cook than the making of an ordinary sale re- 
 quired. Perhaps she let Zed in and out. She had 
 been confiscated with the house. Perhaps she re- 
 sented being made to cook for a British general. 
 
 " No use, Tom," said Zed, gloomily. " Might as 
 well get back. We must tell the sentries we stayed 
 this late to look at the ball." 
 
 " Let's go and look at it. Just hear the music. 
 The old nag'U stand here all right. Don't you sup- 
 
2i8 Tom Strong 
 
 pbse we could get something to eat there? I'm 
 hungry." 
 
 " I believe ye'd stop to eat, my lad, if ye were 
 runnin' with a British bayonet three inches behind 
 ye. It's too dangerous. Dinah told me Major 
 Cunningham was to be there. He knows ye." 
 
 " But he thinks I'm dead." 
 
 " So he does; so he does. If he should see ye, 
 perhaps he'd think ye' re a ghost." 
 
 " Oh, come ahead, Zed. Don't be scared." 
 
 " I wasn't exactly scared," answered the trapper, 
 " not exactly scared — for myself." 
 
 Tom squeezed his hand affectionately, and they 
 went to the rear of the Shippen mansion. No one 
 questioned them in the throng of servants until they 
 reached the big kitchen. There they said they were 
 " chairmen." It was still the time of sedan chairs. 
 A sedan chair was a small brougham, but horseless 
 and wheel-less. It had two long poles below it. 
 One man in front, another behind, carried it. Sedan 
 chairs still linger in the South American republic 
 of Colombia. I have seen an old lady carried over 
 the Andes in one, and I have myself ridden in one in 
 
Tom Strong 219 
 
 Bogota, the capital of Colombia, nine thousand feet 
 above the sea. 
 
 " Whom are you carrying? " 
 
 They had just been talking of Cunningham. On 
 the impulse of the moment, they said they were 
 awaiting him. To their consternation, they were 
 told: 
 
 " The Major has just sent down word that he 
 wants to see you when you come. He says you're 
 late. Seems very mad. He was swearing like 
 thunder. Come upstairs. I'll show you the way." 
 
 There was nothing else to be done. With quak- 
 ing hearts they followed the colored man with 
 whom they had been talking. Zed afterwards ad- 
 mitted that at that moment he was " plumb scared " 
 for himself as well as for Tom. They were led 
 into a small room, where a table was laid for six 
 people. It was a second supper, to be served after 
 " Sir Roger de Coverley." The ball was just end- 
 ing with that stately minuet. 
 
 The instant they were alone. Zed snuffed out 
 the candles. " Come," he whispered. They went 
 to the door by which they had entered. It was 
 
220 Tom Strong 
 
 locked. Perhaps a spring-lock had caught by 
 chance. Perhaps they were suspected, and it had 
 been purposely locked. In either case the situation 
 was serious. The other door of the little room, 
 half ajar, gave on a passageway that apparently led 
 to the ballroom. There was no window. The light 
 of day (when it was day) was gotten from a glass 
 skylight. The fiddles gave a last flourish. " Sir 
 Roger " was done. " The guests of honor might be 
 ushered in here at any moment. 
 
 " 'Member what I said about ghosts ? We've got 
 to be ghosts," whispered Zed. He pulled from his 
 pocket a box of the sulphur matches of those days. 
 They dipped them in water and hastily rubbed them 
 on face and hands, which gave a ghastly, phospho- 
 rescent glow. 
 
 There was a trill of girlish laughter. Peggy 
 Shippen, belle of Philadelphia, came down the 
 passageway, escorted by Major Cunningham. 
 With an ease and skill beyond her years, she was 
 evading his underbred and tipsy familiarity. The 
 other guests of honor had not yet entered the 
 passageway.,. 
 
Tom Strong 221 
 
 " La, the lazy servants have not lit the candles," 
 said Mistress Peggy. " We must do their work 
 after them." 
 
 " Nay, the dark gives opportunity," said a thick 
 voice. 
 
 Cunningham would fain have kissed her, but as 
 she slipped from him, with haughty indignation, 
 what looked like a demon stepped between 
 them. The officer's bleared eyes grew clear with 
 horror. 
 
 " 'Tis the dead boy," he cried. 
 
 Then he turned and fled, leaving Mistress Peggy 
 to whatever might befall. Cunningham's bravery 
 did not extend to ghosts. She was standing against 
 the wall, speechless with horror, her beautiful hands 
 at her beautiful throat. She would have screamed 
 in a moment, but Tom rushed into speech. 
 
 " We're not ghosts. We're Americans. Save 
 us, get us away." 
 
 Peggy Shippen glided to the locked door. She 
 touched a spring. The door opened. She pointed 
 to a room just opposite, an improvised butler's 
 pantry. 
 
222 Tom Strong 
 
 " Quick," she said, " there are dominoes there. 
 Put some on. Go out the front way." 
 
 The door cHcked behind them. She was light- 
 ing the candles with a steady hand, when General 
 Howe came swiftly in, with some other officers. 
 Cunningham had staggered into the ballroom, white 
 and trembling. He could only gasp something un- 
 intelligible about ghosts and Peggy Shippen. 
 
 " What has happened, Mistress Peggy? Is aught 
 wrong ? " 
 
 " Nothing, Your Excellency." 
 
 " But Major Cunningham " 
 
 " The Major came in here with me and seemed to 
 see, or think he saw, an apparition. He said some- 
 thing about a dead boy. He ran. I did not think 
 I was so formidable as to put a British officer to 
 flight. Am I so formidable, Your Excellency?" 
 
 " The most formidable thing in this America of 
 yours," General Howe laughingly answered, " but 
 your swains fly to you instead of from you, as a 
 rule, don't they?" 
 
 " Then this traitor need not return, need he? " 
 
 " He shall return instead to New York this very 
 
Tom Strong 223 
 
 day," said the General. He whispered to one of his 
 aides : " Take the drunken hog to his quarters. 
 Tell him to leave to-day." 
 
 The little party sat down. Major John Andre 
 took Cunningham's place. Where Andre was, 
 there was gaiety. He had that indefinable some- 
 thing we call charm. Ten women have it to one 
 man, but the one man is a thoroughly delightful 
 person. Andre and Mistress Peggy talked fire- 
 works, while the other four applauded. An ironical 
 toast was drunk to Major Cunningham. 
 
 At that moment the Major, clinging shame- 
 facedly to the arm of Howe's aide, was jostled by 
 a tall man and a stout boy, completely hid by 
 dominoes. The street was full of carriages and 
 servants, but the two dominoes called for no car- 
 riage. They walked away swiftly and betook them- 
 selves to Dinah's kitchen. A yawning scullery- 
 maid admitted them. She had just begun laying 
 the fire. Although warned of what she was to 
 see, she almost gave an African howl when their 
 phosphorescent faces appeared. They got rid of 
 the stuff as best they could, then went to the alley 
 
224 Tom Strong 
 
 and started with their patient steed to Germantown. 
 Each of them had brought his domino and hid it 
 beneath the potato-bags. 
 
 "What d'ye want of that, Tom?" asked the 
 trapper. 
 
 " I've got a chicken and a ham in it. I knew 
 that splendid girl would be glad to have me take 
 them. While we waited, I filled both inside pockets. 
 What did you bring your domino for? " 
 
 " They say," Zed grinned, " that great minds 
 think alike. I put a ham and a chicken in mine." 
 
 When they reached the American lines that 
 night, there was a fair division of spoils. One 
 chicken and one ham were presented to Colonel 
 Alexander Hamilton " with the respectful compli- 
 ments of Zedediah Pratt and Thomas Strong, 
 scouts." The other chicken and the other ham fur- 
 nished forth a feast for some of their friends such 
 as Valley Forge was not wont to see. With brim- 
 ming bumpers of water — the only thing of which 
 there was an abundance at Valley Forge — they 
 toasted Mistress Peggy Shippen. It is said to be 
 unlucky to drink toasts in water. We can smile 
 
Tom Strong 225 
 
 at the superstition. But within a year Mistress 
 Peggy was to be Mrs. Benedict Arnold. Surely 
 no worse luck could have come to that fair woman. 
 
 When next the trapper tried to trap a British 
 general, he succeeded. 
 
 In December, 1776, Lord Percy had captured 
 Newport. Early in 1777 he was succeeded there 
 by Major-General Richard Prescott. Percy had 
 been admired, and deserved it. Prescott was de- 
 spised, and deserved it. He made his headquar- 
 ters on an estate about four miles from town. If 
 he could be captured, he could be exchanged for 
 Major-General Charles Lee. Washington decided 
 to try to capture him. 
 
 " Send that long scout, Pratt I mean," said the 
 Commander-in-Chief to Hamilton. 
 
 " With, of course, the boy ! " laughed Hamilton. 
 " I believe they always hunt in couples. I hope 
 they'll pull their quarry down." 
 
 So Hamilton talked to ^ed, and Zed carried the 
 joyous news to Tom, and the man and boy were off 
 for Rhode Island. A small American force lay on 
 the mainland, north of Newport. There they got 
 
226 Tom Strong 
 
 news and a boat and a Gloucester crew, some of 
 whom had -been on that famous foray when the 
 " Queen " was cut out from under the guns of the 
 " Asia." 
 
 " If he were only here," sighed Tom. He was 
 thinking of Nathan Hale. So was Zed. 
 
 At night, with muffled oars, they reached the 
 shore below the great house in which Prescott slept. 
 They crept up to the house. A careless security 
 reigned. The two sentinels slept. They woke with 
 knives at their throats. They were dumb. A knife 
 that is near enough does not need to cut the vocal 
 chords in order to paralyze them. The sentries 
 were bound, gagged, blindfolded. So was a third 
 soldier, who was guarding the stables. The 
 servants were locked up in the cellar. Then the 
 ■raiders entered Prescott's room. He was shaken 
 awake. Bewildered by this blow of Fate, he 
 dressed in haste and anger. With arms bound and 
 the point of his own sword touching his back, he 
 made an undignified promenade to the boat. 
 
 " Wait for me," commanded Zed. 
 
 He went back up the hill to the stables, got out 
 
Tom Strong 227 
 
 five horses, and started them on a wild run north- 
 ward. The ears of the soldiers and servants would 
 teach them that the raiders had galloped off in that 
 direction. Then he crept noiselessly back to the 
 boat, which shot westward to the mainland. By 
 daybreak Prescott was a prisoner at Lebanon, Con- 
 necticut. He was taught there what he had not 
 learned in Newport, the advantage of not being 
 rude. His captors had put him in a little inn, kept 
 by a Mr. Allen, a sturdy character not unlike that 
 other Connecticut innkeeper, General Israel Put- 
 nam. Mrs. Allen, who prided herself upon her 
 housekeeping, gave him a dish of succotash, that 
 delicious dish which the Indians had taught to the 
 Yankees. The burly boor swept it to the floor, 
 angrily shouting : " What do you mean by offering 
 me this hog's food? " Mrs. Allen betook herself to 
 woman's weapon, tears. Her irate husband took 
 his nearest weapon, a horsewhip, and soundly 
 flogged the man who had insulted his wife. It was 
 a sorer and a sager Prescott who was brought 
 across country. In April, 1778, he was exchanged 
 for a traitor, Charles Lee. The traitor resumed his 
 
228 Tom Strong 
 
 post, next in rank to Washington. The latter still 
 blindly trusted Lee, but not for long. He un- 
 masked himself soon. 
 
 During that winter of 1777-78, Tom and Zed, in 
 the intervals of their scouting, joined in the routine 
 tasks of their regiment. The First Continentals 
 toiled with the spade and the musket. They built 
 redoubts at Valley Forge, and they were drilled 
 into real soldiers. The drill-master was Steuben, 
 who came from Germany to fight for American 
 freedom. He toiled terribly, so he was a genius, 
 for " to be a genius is to toil terribly." That is a 
 hard saying, but a fine one, for it shows that genius 
 may be developed in the hurhblest life. Almost 
 three hundred years ago, George Herbert sang : 
 
 " A servant with this clause 
 Makes drudgery divine; 
 Who sweeps a room as for thy laws, 
 Makes that and th' action fine." 
 
 Steuben turned a mob of militia into a disciplined 
 soldiery. The army at Valley Forge was always 
 ready to b^ attacked, so it never was attacked. There 
 was a rigorous precision about the daily life. There 
 
Tom Strong 229 
 
 were regular guard-mounts. No sentry slept at his 
 post under the German's eye. Sentry duty is not 
 alluring, especially when in the absence of foes it 
 is not felt to be always necessary. Tom never for- 
 got one night of it, however, and was always glad 
 that he had been told off to pace his round near 
 headquarters at that particular time. 
 
 It was when the starving and the suffering at 
 Valley Forge was at its worst. It was so cold that 
 men were afraid to sleep lest they should freeze. 
 They were ragged almost to the point of indecency. 
 A whole pair of shoes was an anomaly. An over- 
 coat was a phenomenon. A hearty meal was a 
 dream or a memory, never a concrete fact of to-day. 
 The paymaster was a myth. 
 
 In torn trousers and ragged shirt, with a thin 
 blanket for overcoat, with a shoe that was a sieve, 
 and a slippei- that was a shame, Tom paced back 
 and forth upon his beat. The slow hours dragged. 
 The light at headquarters went out. " They can 
 rest comfortably," he thought, " while we toil and 
 freeze." His musket weighed a ton. His heart was 
 heavier than his gun. 
 
230 Tom Strong 
 
 A stately figure came out from headquarters. It 
 moved a few yards while Tom watched curiously. 
 There came a deep sigh that seemed a sob from the 
 very soul. Then Washington dropped upon his 
 knees, those knees that would bend to no earthly 
 king. " Almighty God," he prayed. What words 
 he used, what outpourings of prayer, what passion- 
 ate entreaties for his country's salvation, what offers 
 of self-sacrifice for her sake — ^these Tom would 
 never tell. When the great man rose to his feet, 
 there was calm and a hush in the air. The boy 
 thought that an angel had passed by. Then Wash- 
 ington spoke to him for a moment, spoke grave, 
 gentle words, called him by name, talked to him of 
 his mother and of his country. 
 
 " Serve your country as your mother would have 
 you," he said, " and never despair. Suffer and be 
 strong. You and I serve a righteous cause. We 
 are fellow-soldiers, my son." 
 
 The General went back to his vigil, the sentinel 
 to his. A new fire burned in the boy's heart. It 
 warmed him through and through. His heart 
 danced and sang songs — songs- that said : " Even I, 
 
Tom Strong ' 231 
 
 Tom Strong, am General Washington's fellow-sol- 
 dier." From that night, the roughest duty was 
 a joy to him. He endured everything, complained 
 of nothing. His comrades came to call him 
 " Plucky Tom." And Zed rejoiced exceedingly 
 over the boy's ever-growing manliness. " Son, 
 son," he used to say, " I'm proud of you." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 ' I "^HE feasting and the fiddling went on in Phila- 
 delphia through the winter and through the 
 spring. General Howe, flattering himself that he 
 was to leave a conquered country behind him, pre- 
 pared to return home. May i8th, 1778, a farewell 
 entertainment was given him. It was called the 
 Mischianza, and was full of gorgeous pageantry. 
 The principSll parts in it were taken by Major Andre 
 and by Mistress Peggy Shippen. She wore in her 
 corsage a great bunch of wild flowers. It had been 
 left at her house that morning. The flowers had 
 upon them the morning dew. Zed and Tom had 
 no cards, but they had gotten from Alexander Ham- 
 ilton a sheet of paper upon which Tom had writ- 
 ten : " To Mistress Margaret Shippen, from two 
 grateful men whom she saved from a British 
 prison." Zed had pretended to object to this in- 
 scription because, he said, Tom wasn't a man, but a 
 
 boy. 
 
 232 
 
Tom Strong 233 
 
 " She's seen you, lad. She knows you're a boy." 
 
 " So far as those wonderful eyes of hers are 
 concerned, she didn't see either man or boy. All 
 she saw was a pair of ghosts." 
 
 So the message was written, and the flowers sent. 
 Mistress Peggy wore them, and beneath them, close 
 to her heart, she carried a love letter signed " Bene- 
 dict Arnold." It rustled a bit as she walked with 
 stately grace through " Sir Roger de Coverley " with 
 Major Andre. 
 
 " You are here, fair Mistress Peggy," said Andre, 
 " but your eyes have a far-away look. I doubt you 
 are thinking of sorne ' rebel.' It mislikes me, for 
 your cheeks are loyal. They fly the scarlet flag of 
 England." 
 
 " But my eyes are true-blue, are they not. 
 Major?" 
 
 " Blue as your Indian-summer skies." 
 
 " So with my white chin I show the red, white, 
 and blue. Major Andre. I'm a good patriot, as you 
 know. You call us rebels, but the -rebellion is a 
 Revolution." 
 
 " I shall suspect you of carrying on a treason- 
 
234 Tom Strong 
 
 able correspondence with some rebel general next," 
 laughed Andre. 
 
 "Treasonable? No. A correspondence? Well, 
 who knows ? " Mistress Peggy smiled, a little con- 
 sciously, while Arnold's letter rose and fell with 
 her heartbeats. 
 
 " Faith, for your sake, I'd carry even treason- 
 able letters to and fro." 
 
 " But if you were caught with them? " 
 
 " No danger, most dangerous of rebels. Not 
 even for my country, would I turn post-carrier for 
 a traitor. And yet, who knows what he might not 
 do for his country? 'Tis a great land, Mistress 
 Peggy, this England which you would spurn. But 
 soon you will welcome our gentle rule again. We 
 may confiscate a bit. I hear your Washington has 
 a fine estate. -Perhaps I may yet be John Andre of 
 Virginia. And perhaps you will listen to him, 
 although you won't now to John Andre of 
 England." 
 
 The minuet was at an end. He bowed low. 
 Mistress Peggy Shippen, Mrs. Benedict Arnold 
 to-be, courtesied to the floor to the gallant young 
 
Tom Strong 235 
 
 gentleman who was so soon to carry letters for her 
 traitor husband. 
 
 Just one month from that day, she waved her 
 kerchief joyously from the window of her room 
 as the American troops entered Philadelphia upon 
 the heels of the retreating British. Benedict Arnold 
 was at their head. He was in the heart of Mistress 
 Peggy. He was then thirty-five years of age, a 
 widower with three sons, a self-made and not well- 
 finished man, not handsome, blunt, self-willed, tact- 
 less, but with a well-won reputation for courage, for 
 soldierly skill, and for a burning patriotism. He 
 conquered the belle of Philadelphia. In April of 
 1779 she became Mrs. Arnold. Through all his 
 hideous infamy she was true to him, his one help 
 and comfort in his awful life. And Arnold, 
 faithless in all else, was ever true to Peggy 
 Shippen. 
 
 After some months of quiet, which the English 
 general had spent in amusing himself and the 
 American general in strengthening his army, Wash- 
 ington took the offensive. The British were march- 
 ing from Philadelphia to New York. On June 
 
236 Tom Strong 
 
 27th, 1778, they were attacked at Monmouth Court- 
 house. General Charles Lee was in command of 
 the patriot forces. He was never to command 
 them again. 
 
 The First Continentals were in his army. Like 
 the other regiments, they were ordered forward, 
 ordered backward, forbidden to fire when they 
 could have done so with deadly effect, forbidden to 
 charge when they could have struck the English 
 flank and crumpled up the English army. Steuben 
 had made veterans of them, but Lee's traitorous 
 commands threw them into confusion and dismay. 
 He had almost won the battle for his English mas- 
 ters, when Washington galloped on the field. It 
 was like Marlborough at Blenheim, like Sheridan 
 at Winchester, like Pickett at Gettysburg. The 
 first two have found their poets. Addison wrote 
 of the Duke of Marlborough at Blenheim : 
 
 "'Twas then great Marlbro's mighty soul was proved 
 That in the shock of charging hosts unmov'd 
 Amidst confusion, horror, and despair 
 Examin'd all the dreadful scenes of war, 
 In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd, 
 To fainting squadrons lent the timely aid. 
 
Tom Strong 237 
 
 Inspired repulsed battalions to engage 
 
 And taught the doubtful battle, where to rage. 
 
 Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm." 
 
 Buchanan Read wrote of Sheridan at Win- 
 chester : 
 
 " He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas, 
 And the wave of retreat checked its course there because 
 The sight of the master compelled it to pause." 
 
 The epic of Pickett's charge at Gettysburg, a 
 charge that almost won that bloody three days' fight 
 for the Confederacy, remains to be sung. And so 
 does the miracle that Washington wrought at Mon- 
 mouth. 
 
 " God in Heaven! General Lee, what are you 
 about? " he thundered as he met that craven traitor 
 retiring with his beaten troops (beaten by him) 
 from the field where he had tried to have them 
 butchered. Lee was speechless with shame. The 
 great Virginian scorched the little Virginian with 
 one fiery look, muttered " Accursed poltroon ! " and 
 rode forward, giving sharp, quick orders to his 
 aides, who scattered over the battle-field, rallying 
 
238 Tom Strong 
 
 the beaten Americans. There was a mighty cry: 
 " Washington is here ! " The broken ranks re- 
 formed. Orders to fight, not orders to fall back, 
 rang down the line. There was a sullen, fierce 
 struggle. Lee had thrown away victory, but Wash- 
 ington saved the army from defeat. It was a 
 drawn battle, a stale-mate. When it ended, Tom 
 lay within the British lines, a bullet in his shoul- 
 der. Zed, who had stood over him with a clubbed 
 musket, warding off bayonet-lunges at the boy un- 
 til wounded himself, was also a prisoner. They 
 were taken in an army wagon, which jolted horribly 
 over the corduroy roads, as far as Paulus Hook, 
 which is now Jersey City. From there, in a tem- 
 porary prison camp, they could see across the low 
 roofs of the New York of that day the prison- 
 ships in Wallabout Bay, where Cunningham ruled 
 and tortured. 
 
 The trapper and Tom were General Charles Lee's 
 last victims. Hamilton wrote to Boudinot July 
 5th, 1778: " I never saw the General (Washington) 
 to such advantage. ... A general rout, dismay, 
 and disgrace would have attended the whole army 
 
Tom Strong 239 
 
 in any other hands but his. By his own good sense 
 and fortitude, he turned the fate of the day." Lee's 
 cowardice was as plain then as his treason became 
 plain with the discovery of the Strachey papers 
 eighty years later. He was removed in disgrace. 
 He died in a dingy tavern in Philadelphia the year 
 after Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown. He 
 lived long enough to see the triumph of the cause 
 he had done his best to betray. The only good 
 thing I know of him is that he was fond of 
 dogs. 
 
 By July 20th, Sir Henry Clinton was again in 
 New York, and Washington again at White Plains, 
 keeping grim watch and ward over him. Zed and 
 Tom were still at Paulus Hook. The prison-ships 
 were too full for new prisoners, though Cunning- 
 hain and his ally Death were doing their best to 
 make room. Meanwhile, the tobacco-bags con- 
 tinued their missionary work. Within a week after 
 Monmouth, two thousand Hessians deserted. Sir 
 Henry Clinton's army was becoming dangerously 
 small. He offered amnesty and bounties to pris- 
 oners who would join the British ranks. The few 
 
240 Tom Strong 
 
 broken-spirited men on the prison-ships who were 
 tempted and fell were unfit for soldiers. The 
 Paulus Hook prisoners, led by Tom and Zed, re- 
 fused the' offers to a man. Then they were ordered 
 to Wallabout Bay. By this time the trapper was 
 quite well again; the boy almost well. They had 
 been kindly treated in the prison-hospital. Surgery 
 was rough in those days, but the bullet in Tom's 
 shoulder had been taken out with some skill, and 
 with almost tender hands. The English surgeon 
 had been quite captivated by the boy's patient en- 
 durance, and by his sunny smile. He permitted 
 Zed to stay in the hospital to care for Tom, and he 
 actually smuggled some letters between Tom and 
 his mother, letters which did the boy more good 
 than medicine. Nearly two months had passed. 
 It was a beautiful August night, the night of August 
 1 8th. All was quiet at Paulus Hook. But near 
 Paulus Hook something moved. " Light Horse 
 Harry Lee " was there. He was of the real Lees of 
 Virginia, the son of a great belle, who in her maiden 
 days had been wooed by Washington. He speaks 
 of her in the letters of his young manhood as " the 
 
Tom Strong 241 
 
 Lowland Beauty." Some of that beauty was in- 
 herited by her famous son. Some of it he trans- 
 mitted to his more famous son, General Robert E. 
 Lee. " Light Horse Harry " crept through the 
 night with his light horse cavalry. His troopers 
 were like those who rode with Morgan and charged 
 with Sheridan in our Civil War. Paulus Hook was 
 shaped like an interrogation point. Its narrowest 
 part was where it joined the mainland. The little 
 redoubt there was carried at a blow, almost in 
 silence. The garrison woke to find itself captured. 
 " Light Horse Harry " rode back with one hundred 
 and fifty-nine prisoners, and with as many men who 
 had been prisoners. Zed and Tom danced with 
 joy at being free. They shook their fists at the 
 eastward, where Cunningham awaited in vain his 
 new prey. The barges that had been sent to take 
 them to him the next day lay at the end of the 
 Hook. They flamed up to the sky, with the few 
 buildings of the British fort, as the raiders rode 
 away. The light they gave lit up the North River 
 and showed a sturdy man rowing swiftly to the 
 New York shore. It was the British surgeon. Tom 
 
242 Tom Strong 
 
 and Zed had told " Light Horse Harry " of the doc- 
 tor's kindness, and the chivalric Virginian had set 
 him free. He carried a letter from Lee to Clinton, 
 threatening reprisals on his prisoners if the cruelties 
 of the prison-ships did not cease. Also he carried 
 a hasty note from Tom to his mother, with a 
 straggling postscript from Zed. The trapper shot 
 better than he wrote, but what he said of " our 
 boy " brought tears of joy to the mother's happy 
 eyes — happy, but anxious. Her son was free, but 
 that meant free to run into danger again. At any 
 rate, however, he had escaped the danger of being 
 once more in the clutches of Cunningham. 
 
 It was several months before he ran much risk. 
 Then he ran all that a man could. Not far below 
 West Point is the promontory of Stony Point. The 
 Hudson washes three sides of it. On the fourth a 
 morass separates it from the mainland. A narrow 
 causeway led across this. The Americans had be- 
 gun a fort there, but as soon as it was built, Clinton 
 surprised and captured it. This was on the last day 
 of May, 1779. He strengthened its defences and 
 garrisoned it with six hundred men. It was a thorn 
 
Tom Strong 243 
 
 in the American side. " Mad Anthony " Wayne 
 made up his mind to pluck out that thorn. He took 
 with him the First Continentals and other infantry, 
 in all twelve hundred men. I hope that one thing 
 " Mad Anthony " did was necessary, because if it 
 
 ANTHONY WAYNE 
 
 was not, it is hard to forgive him for doing it. 
 Every dog within three miles of Stony Point was 
 killed, so that he should not bark at the Amer- 
 icans, and thus arbuse the British. At midnight of 
 July isth, 1779, the patriot column, guided by Zed 
 and Tom, who had been scouting through the region 
 
244 Tom Strong 
 
 for a week, and headed by " Mad Anthony," crossed 
 the causeway. Not one of the twelve hundred guns 
 was loaded. The work was to be done by the 
 bayonet. It was Steuben who taught us to use the 
 bayonet. When he came to Valley Forge, it 
 was being used as a toasting-fork, and not for 
 much else. Stony Point was the first place ever 
 carried by Americans at the point of the 
 bayonet. 
 
 On the causeway there was a whispered word: 
 " Halt." The men stood still as Zed and Tom crept 
 up the hill. They brought word to " Mad An- 
 thony " of an unsuspecting garrison. 
 
 " When we go forward," said Wayne to his 
 aides, " there must be no cheering, not a sound. 
 Let the men be as still as our scouts have been. 
 Keep your bayonets forward. And now, forward ! 
 double quick ! charge ! " , 
 
 " Mad Anthony " ran at the head of his men. 
 He could no longer restrain himself. He was the 
 first to disobey his own orders, for he yelled like a 
 boy as the garrison, half-awake, was bayoneted and 
 clubbed into submission. The Americans lost fif- 
 
Tom Strong 245 
 
 teen killed and eighty-three wounded. The British 
 lost sixty-three killed and five hundred and fifty- 
 three prisoners. 
 
 In the very month of his marriage to Peggy 
 Shippen, Arnold wrote Sir Henry Clinton, asking 
 him in substance what England would pay for a 
 first-class traitor. He signed his letters — there 
 were several of them — " Gustavus." The answers, 
 sent with many precautions by a roundabout way, 
 were signed " John Anderson." Major John 
 Andre wrote them. He was then Clinton's ad- 
 jutant-general. The plot took over a year to ripen. 
 In July, 1780, Arnold asked Washington to give 
 him command of West Point. Washington did 
 so forthwith. Then " Gustavus " and " John An- 
 derson " agreed to meet. 
 
 It was a time of deep discouragement for patri- 
 ots. The English had overrun Georgia and South 
 Carolina without difficulty. The American general, 
 Benjamin Lincoln, who had done much to bring 
 about Burgoyne's surrender at Saratoga, himself 
 surrendered Charleston, S. C, with several thou- 
 
246 Tom Strong 
 
 sand men, May 12th, 1780. England was joyous 
 again. Horace Walpole wrote in one of his letters 
 of that time : " We look on all America as at our 
 feet." It was a way our English brothers had. 
 Several times they thought resistance was crushed, 
 but thought so in vain. " Have you surrendered? " 
 shouted the commander of the " Serapis " to Paul 
 Jones, captain of the " Bon Homme Richard," when 
 the latter's flag was shot away. " Surrendered ? — 
 We have just bfegun to fight," roared Paul Jones. 
 At the moment the only reason his ship did not 
 sink, shot to pieces as she was, was because she was 
 lashed to the side of the " Serapis." Presently he) 
 took the " Serapis," and the " Bon Homme Ri- 
 chard " sank in glory. But just now, on land, the 
 American cause was at low ebb. There were de- 
 feats in the South and no victories in the North. 
 The Continental currency was fast becoming value- 
 less. Washington said it took a wagon-load of 
 money to buy a wagon-load of provisions. The 
 slang phrase for something absolutely worthless was 
 " not worth a Continental." A barber-shop in 
 Philadelphia was papered with American currency. 
 
Tom Strong 247 
 
 It kept going down and down, as the hope of armed 
 success grew faint and fainter. 
 
 I have seen quite recently in Colombia, South 
 America, a currency such as ours was, then. I have 
 paid three dollars for an egg and eight hundred dol- 
 lars for a hat. I have been paid two hundred dol- 
 
 aiXPOIAABS 
 
 THUflin 
 
 SIX SPANISH 
 DOLLARS. 
 V.lut(h.r.rf 1 
 .rriLyER-KC— 
 aiitl.Ul^.'i'f C 
 
 aREss ,Miiitt 
 
 \i>.4tlfi}>im.N. 
 
 ^':^M^&1 
 
 ...IJlL-iUBl— .J,] 
 CONTINENTAL MONEY 
 
 lars gold, in Colombian currency at the rate of a 
 dollar, Colombian, for one cent, American. I was 
 paid, moreover, in incredibly dirty paper bills of 
 fifty cents, Colombian. As each of these was worth 
 — or was counted as — half a cent, American, I re- 
 ceived forty thousand of them. They filled 
 three big sacks, all that three strong men could 
 carry. 
 
 There was but one bright spot in the American 
 
248 Tom Strong 
 
 picture. Benjamin Franklin had captured France. 
 He had been there since October, 1776. First he 
 captured the people, the wits, the fashionable folk. 
 In that capital of flounces and furbelows, of silks, 
 satins, and laces, of powdered wigs and embroidered 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 
 
 sword knots, he was conspicuous in his long gray 
 hair, his snuff-colored clothes, his homespun stock- 
 ings, and stout shoes. All manner of things were 
 advertised " a la Franklin." He personified Amer- 
 ica. Voltaire spoke of the American armies as 
 " Franklin's troops." Turgot wrote the best line of 
 
Tom Strong 249 
 
 modern Latin when he said of FrankHn : " Eripuit 
 coelo fulmen; sceptrumque tyrannis," — " He seized 
 Hghtning from heaven and the scepter from 
 tyrants." The common people cheered him when- 
 ever he appeared in the streets. Now he had con- 
 quered the Court of France. A treaty was signed. 
 A French fleet appeared in friendship on our shores. 
 A French force, six thousand strong, led by Count 
 Rochambeau, was disembarked at Newport, which 
 the English had evacuated late in 1779. But even 
 with the relief of the white uniforms of the French, 
 the picture was black. Many despaired, and Ar- 
 nold betrayed. 
 
 It was September 20th, 1780. Arnold was at the 
 Beverly Robinson country house, opposite West 
 Point, where he made his headquarters. His wife 
 was with him, a happy wife and happy mother. A 
 baby boy kicked and crowed in his crib upstairs. 
 Two companies of the First Continentals formed 
 his body-guard. Tom was there, on sentry duty. 
 Zed was off, guiding Washington back from a trip 
 to New England. 
 
 H. B. M.'s sloop-of war, the " Vulture," came up 
 
250 Tom Strong 
 
 the Hudson. She carried one passenger, Major 
 John Andre. She anchored near Stony Point. On 
 the night of the 21st, a boat, sent by Arnold, put 
 Andre ashore in a forest of firs, where Arnold met 
 him. They talked all night. When day broke, the 
 boatmen refused to row out to the " Vulture." So 
 the two conspirators walked a couple of miles up- 
 stream to the house of one Joshua Smith. There 
 they talked all day. All the details of the treason 
 were finally arranged. In his own handwriting Ar- 
 nold jotted down the particulars about the location 
 and strength of the American forces in and around 
 West Point, which would allow the English to sur- 
 prise and destroy them. He sold his soldiers. He 
 bargained in the blood of the men he commanded. 
 The price of the Judas deed was agreed upon — a 
 commission as a British brigadier, and many times 
 thirty pieces of silver. 
 
 Meanwhile Colonel Livingston, who commanded 
 a redoubt with a few cannon on the Hudson, 
 thought he would give his artillerymen some prac- 
 tice. The " Vulture " was a good mark. He 
 trained his guns on her. Her commander thought 
 
Tom Strong 251 
 
 practice might make perfect. He dropped down 
 stream out of fire. By doing so, he sent Andre to 
 the scaffold and saved West Point to America. For 
 Joshua Smith now decHned to row Andre so far 
 down the Hudson. He was afraid. He offered 
 to guide him by land. Andre was forced to accept. 
 He put six memoranda in Arnold's handwriting be- 
 tween his stockings and the soles of his feet. Ar- 
 nold's barge was to take Arnold ten miles upstream 
 to his headquarters. He held out his hand. H 
 Andre disliked taking it, he yet did so. 
 
 " Pray present my heartfelt compliments to Mrs. 
 Arnold, General. We would welcome you most 
 gladly in any event, but you are doubly welcome 
 since that conqueror of all our hearts in Phila- 
 delphia comes with you, to repeat her victories in 
 New York." 
 
 " I thank you. Major, in Mrs. Arnold's name. 
 She and I will soon be with you." 
 
 " God save the King," said Andre, eyes hard-set 
 on the man to whom he spoke. 
 
 " God save — save — the — ^the — King," stammered 
 the wretched Arnold. His eyes fell. He dropped 
 
2^2 Tom Strong 
 
 , Andre's limp hand and entered his barge. So 
 Andre became post-carrier for a traitor. 
 
 The unfortunate officer put on some of Smith's 
 clothes and started with him. They crossed the 
 river, got horses, and rode southward. That night 
 they spent at a farmhouse. Andre wished to push 
 forward in the dark. Smith refused. But they 
 made an early start, and reached the Croton River 
 at dawn. There Smith turned back to the north, 
 and rode towards Fishkill, which he wished to visit 
 before returning home. At a creek above Tarry- 
 town, in the debatable land between the American 
 and English lines, three armed men halted Andre. 
 One of them wore a Hessian- coat. Andre saw that 
 coat and said : 
 
 " I am a British officer." 
 
 " He is a spy," called John Paulding, the Amer- 
 ican who wore the Hessian coat. 
 
 On Broadway in Tarrytown, the scene is pic- 
 tured in bronze and stone to-day. Andre was 
 forced to dismount. The telltale papers were 
 found. He and they were turned over to Colonel 
 Jameson, who commanded an American outpost at 
 
Tom Strong 253 
 
 Northcastle, twelve miles up river. Jameson, who 
 did not know Arnold's handwriting, sent him a re- 
 port of the capture. The papers, however, were 
 forwarded to Washington. Andre was kept un- 
 der guard. So ended that eventful Saturday, Sep- 
 tember 23d, 1780. 
 
 There was one day's reprieve to traitor and to 
 spy. On Sunday, Washington on his return from 
 New England met Luzerne, the French Minister to 
 this country, on the highroad near Fishkill, eighteen 
 miles above West Point, and on the east bank of the 
 Hudson. They stopped at a little inn to talk. As 
 they conferred together, there entered Joshua 
 Smith, whose house had sheltered Arnold and 
 Andre, and who had guided Andre through the 
 American lines. It was a democratic era. The 
 war, too, had leveled many social lines. So Gen- 
 eral and Minister and farmer chatted together. 
 While they sat at their ease, a rider passed at full 
 speed. 
 
 " Hallo ! " said Zed to himself. He was loung- 
 ing at the tavern-door. " Looks to me like a bearer 
 of despatches. What's up ? " 
 
2^4 Tom Strong 
 
 He decided to go after him. When he looked 
 into the inn-parlor, Washington seemed to be too 
 busy to be interrupted. His two aides, Hamilton 
 and Lafayette, were not to be found. 
 
 " Since we're so plaguy fond of the French," 
 chuckled Zed, " guess I'll take French leave." He 
 left upon the dining-room table a message which 
 Hamilton found an hour later. It read : 
 
 "General Washington, 
 Your Excellency, 
 As Your Excellency don't need a guide any more, I've 
 gone back to scouting. There's a fellow with some papers I 
 mean to git. He rid by here. So no more at present, except 
 that I've borrowed a horse of Your Excellency. Respectfully 
 reported, . 
 
 Zemdiah Pratt, 
 Scout." 
 
 Hamilton and Lafayette laughed together over 
 this characteristic letter. 
 
 " What are those papers ? " asked Lafayette. 
 
 " I don't know, but I'll wager that Zed ' gits ' 
 them, and that they're worth getting. He'll turn 
 up in a day or two. I shall be curious to see 
 those papers. They may surprise us." 
 
Tom Strong 255 
 
 They did surprise them, for they were the proofs 
 of Arnold's treason. The horse Zed had bor- 
 rowed was a hunter with a dash of the Arab, bred 
 at Mount Vernon, and trained in Virginia fox- 
 hunts. He was much more comfortable in his long 
 gallop than the rider on his back. But Zed over- 
 took the messenger, got the papers, and rode south 
 to the Beverly Robinson house. He reached there 
 in the early afternoon of Monday, September 25th. 
 Meanwhile things had happened there. 
 
 Washington sent word to Arnold that he would 
 breakfast with him that Monday. He arrived in 
 the morning, but barely drew rein near the house. 
 Tom, who was doing his turn at sentry-go, had 
 just presented arms to the General and his staff, 
 when Washington beckoned to him and said : 
 
 "Tell General Arnold we. will return this after- 
 noon. Ah, I have seen you at Brooklyn, at Har- 
 lem Heights, at White Plains, and at Valley Forge. 
 We are still fellow-soldiers, I see. Colonel Ham- 
 ilton will stand guard while you take my mes- 
 sage." 
 
 Hamilton flung himself off his horse, took Tom's 
 
256 Tom Strong 
 
 gun, and began to pace up and down with mock 
 gravity. Lafayette spoke. 
 
 " Your Excellency loses not only breakfast, but 
 what is far greater, a sight of Mistress Arnold. 
 Ah, such grace, such beauty. She's the prettiest 
 patriot in America ! " 
 
 " Marquis, I know you young men are all in 
 love with Mrs. Arnold," said Washington. " Go 
 and get your breakfast, and tell her not to wait for 
 us." 
 
 The Frenchman demurred. So Hamilton was 
 promised leave to take breakfast as a reward for 
 playing sentry, and the General rode on with the 
 rest of his stafif. Tom, who had sent in the mes- 
 sage by the butler, returned to his post and shoul- 
 dered his gun again. Hamilton sprang to his sad- 
 dle and galloped gayly up to the house. 
 
 Breakfast was forthwith served. The breakfast- 
 room windows opened down to the floor upon a 
 broad piazza, which commanded a beautiful pano- 
 rama. West Point was opposite. Storm King and 
 Stony Point were in sight. In the distance the 
 topmasts of the " Vulture " gleamed in the morn- 
 
Tom Strong 257 
 
 ing sun. The company was gay. Arnold and his 
 beautiful wife, Hamilton, and two other officers 
 jested and laughed. It was a gay and happy scene. 
 It seemed a bit of Paradise. Enter the serpent, in 
 the shape of a highly respectable colored man, one 
 of the old servants of the Shippen family, who had 
 come with " Miss Peggy " from Philadelphia. He 
 carried a burnished silver salver. On it was a let- 
 ter. It was Colonel Jameson's letter. Arnold took 
 it and broke the seal. 
 
 " Pardon me," he said and»read it. And as he 
 read it, the wretched man knew that there could 
 never be pardon for him, in this world or the next. 
 Twisting his face into a forced smile, he said: 
 " 'Tis a small matter, but may detain me for a 
 moment. Until I return, I leave you in Mrs. Ar- 
 nold's hands. You are already all in her good 
 graces." As he spoke, his wife clutched the edge 
 of the table. Her eyes, taught by love, read the 
 dawning of a tragedy. She excused herself in a 
 moment and. followed him upstairs to their room. 
 
 "Benedict, what is it? What is it? What 
 threatens you? Tell me, tell your Peggy." 
 
258 Tom Strong 
 
 She clung to him desperately. 
 
 " It is ruin, Peggy, ruin. I must fly." 
 
 Mrs. Arnold slipped to the floor in a dead faint. 
 His beloved wife was the first victim of his trea- 
 son. Arnold laid her upon the bed, called her maid 
 to attend to her, kissed the boy who slept peacefully 
 in his cradle, and slipped out of the house. Tom 
 caught a glimpse of him as he scurried down the 
 bank, and wondered at his hurry. A Jittle later, 
 when he had been relieved as sentry, he strolled to 
 the bluff by the river find saw far off the barge 
 which bore Arnold, being rowed swiftly down the 
 Hudson. 
 
 "But why does he go there?" thought Tom. 
 "It looks as if he were going to board the 'Vul- 
 ture.' But of course that can't be." 
 
 But so it was. When he stepped on the deck 
 of the " Vulture," Fame blotted out the name of 
 Benedict Arnold from her roll of immortal names, 
 and Infamy entered it upon hers. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 IT WASHINGTON had crossed the river to West 
 Point,, and did not return to the Beverly Rob- 
 inson house until the early afternoon. Soon after 
 his boat left the western bank of the Hudson, Alex- 
 ander Hamilton had rushed down the bluff to await 
 his coming. Hamilton was trembling with excite- 
 ment. He held half a dozen papers in his hand. 
 He began shouting to the oarsmen, " Quick ! 
 quicker ! pull your hardest ! " when they were still 
 too far off to hear his quivering voice. 
 
 At just two o'clock Zed had reached the piazza 
 of the Robinson house. Hamilton, sorely puzzled 
 by the disappearance of his host and hostess, sat 
 there. His repeated inquiries as to Mrs. Arnold 
 had been baffled by her maid, who would only say 
 that " the mistress " was ill, and that " the master " 
 was expected back at once. But Hamilton was 
 sure he had heard more than one moan, and at least 
 one stifled shriek, as doors opened and closed, and 
 
 2f9 
 
26o Tom Strong 
 
 servants moved swiftly about upstairs. He was 
 anxious and uneasy, though no doubt of Arnold 
 himself entered his own loyal mind. Next to Ham- 
 ilton himself and, perhaps, Lafayette, Arnold was 
 enshrined in Washington's heart. That made him 
 sacred from suspicion. But where had he gone? 
 Why was his wife, so brilliantly gay at breakfast, 
 now a moaning wreck? Why did not Arnold re- 
 turn? So Hamilton mused. 
 
 The borrowed horse was nearly on his last legs 
 when Zed climbed down from him. The trapper's 
 stiff walk showed that he, too, was exhausted. He 
 saluted and spoke, as Hamilton, startled by his ap- 
 pearance, rose from his chair and as Tom ran up to 
 greet him. 
 
 " Colonel," said Zed, " these papers is marked 
 ' Haste ! haste ! ' The messenger missed the Gen- 
 eral at that little tavern. He rode by, and I fol- 
 lowed him. His horse was near dead when I 
 caught him, and I'm afraid the General's ain't much 
 better off." 
 
 He looked ruefully at the splendid animal, which 
 stood with hanging head, dilated nostrils, and heav- 
 
Tom^ Strong 261 
 
 ing flanks. Hamilton, who had torn open the pack- 
 age, saw at a glance the story of the treason. The 
 bursting of a bomb would not have shocked him 
 more. He turned with a groan to the trapper and 
 the boy. 
 
 " Better lose a hundred horses than lose one, 
 hour with these papers. If you had ridden the 
 General's whole stable to death in such a cause, 
 he would have thanked you. Come with me, both 
 of you. There'll be tracking to do. Come!" 
 
 The three started on a run. They ran like ante- 
 lopes. They stood side by side on the shore while 
 Hamilton shouted in his frenzy to the distant oars- 
 men. 
 
 " What is it? " whispered Tom to Zed. " What 
 has happened ? " 
 
 " Dunno a thing," replied the trapper, " 'cept 
 one. I ain't had nothing to eat for twenty-four 
 hours, and been ridin' steady all that time. I'm 
 near as dead as that horse up to the house. And 
 the Colonel, he said there'd be trackin' to do. So 
 I've got to cut out sleepin' and eatin' for another 
 twenty-four hours, I suppose." He drew his belt 
 
262 Tom Strong 
 
 tighter and explained : "If ye take in your belt 
 one hole for breakfast and two for dinner, ye don't 
 stay so all-fired hungry." 
 
 " That boat won't be here for twenty minutes," 
 said Tom, measuring with skilful eye the distance 
 still to be rowed. " I'll run up to the house and 
 get you something to eat. May I go, Colonel ? " 
 
 He had turned to Hamilton, but the Colonel 
 heard nothing, answered nothing. His young face 
 was set in the stern lines of old age, and was ashen 
 gray. Tom glanced at him, looked at Zed with ter- 
 ror in his eyes, and ran up-hill, whence he returned 
 in a moment with cold bread and meat. Zed wolfed 
 it down ravenously. The boat reached the shore. 
 Washington, General Knox, and Lafayette disem- 
 barked. 
 
 " Your Excellency," stammered Hamilton, " I 
 have news, awful news." 
 
 The great Virginian lost nothing of his im- 
 passive and impressive calm, for the moment. He 
 asked Knox and Lafayette to go to the house and 
 await him, then spoke to Hamilton. 
 
 "The news is? — but what are these men doing 
 
Tom Strong 263 
 
 here, so near?" He waved his hand towards Zed 
 and Tom. They, abashed, were about to go, when 
 Hamilton stopped them. 
 
 " Stay, my men." Tom had a secret joy, even 
 in that tense moment, in thinking that both Wash- 
 ington and Hamilton had called him a man. " Par- 
 don me. Your Excellency, but we need them both, 
 now, this moment, to track a traitor." 
 
 "A traitor? Not , but God forbid, that 
 
 could not be. Who has betrayed us ? " 
 
 " Benedict Arnold." 
 
 Hamilton held out the six papers in the traitor's 
 handwriting, with the report that had come with 
 them. He told rapidly of Arnold's flight from 
 the breakfast table that morning. It was worse 
 than telhng a father of his only son's death. 
 Washington shook like a tall pine struck by a thun- 
 derbolt. He stretched out his arm blindly for sup- 
 port. His hand encountered Tom's shoulder and 
 gripped it. The boy could feel him tremble. With 
 a great effort he mastered himself. 
 
 " When did General — this man — go? " he asked. 
 
 " I saw him. Your Excellency, in his barge 'way 
 
264 Tom Strong 
 
 down the river. The ' Vulture ' was a little further 
 down." 
 
 The hand on Tom's shoulder gripped him so 
 fiercely now that he almost cried out with the pain, 
 but the voice was calm. The Commander gave his 
 orders. 
 
 " Colonel, you will take young Strong, and scout 
 along this bank as far south as Northcastle. Pratt, 
 cross and follow the western bank. He — he — ^may 
 have landed somewhere. He may not have taken * 
 that accursed ship. There may be some explana- 
 tion. God grant it. You say his wife is here. I 
 will question her, poor lady. Go ! " 
 
 They scattered to their respective tasks, while 
 Washington walked up-hill. Knox and Lafayette, 
 standing on the piazza to receive him, after one 
 glance at the stony anguish of his face, drew aside 
 without a word. 
 
 As he passed into the house, there was a wild 
 scream from above. Mrs. Arnold was in violent 
 hysterics. Washington made his way into her 
 room, despite the servants' timid remonstrances, but 
 it was vain to ask questions. She did not even 
 
Tom Strong 265 
 
 know him. Some utterly despairing words, " Oh ! 
 my husband ! oh ! my son ! " were mingled with her 
 inarticulate screams. The iron had entered into 
 brilliant, happy, courted, worshiped Peggy Ship- 
 pen's soul. Washington descended and came out 
 upon the piazza. Tears were rolling down his 
 cheeks, his voice was choking with sobs, as he said 
 to Knox and Lafayette : 
 
 " Arnold is a traitor and has fled to the British. 
 Whom can we trust now ? " 
 
 The curtain drops upon the Beverly Robinson 
 house, and rises upon the headquarters of Colonel 
 Jameson at Northcastle. Hamilton and Tom had, 
 of course, been as unsuccessful in finding traces of 
 Arnold on the eastern bank as Zed had been on the 
 western. They stood now in the living-room, as it 
 was called, of the farmhouse which Jameson oc- 
 cupied. The story of Andre's capture was told by 
 Paulding. The discovery of the documents in his 
 stockings was described. His proud claim of be- 
 ing a British officer was rehearsed. The proof was 
 complete. 
 
266 Tom Strong 
 
 "Will you see the prisoner, Colonel?" asked 
 Jameson. 
 
 " Now God forbid," Hamilton hastily answered. 
 " 'Twas but yesterday I broke bread with Arnold 
 in his own house, with his lovely wife at the head 
 of the board. I have seen too much of this black 
 business already. The Commander-in-Chief bade 
 me tell you to send your prisoner to Tappan. My 
 orderly, Mr. Strong" — I doubt whether Tom had 
 ever been called Mister before; it sounded good to 
 him, especially from Hamilton's lips — " Mr. Strong 
 will guide the party you send. Detail twenty 
 troopers, well-mounted, well-armed. This man 
 must not escape. If there is an attempt at rescue, 
 and it is likely to succeed, he must be killed. Take 
 him to Tappan, alive or dead. The scoundrel ! " 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Colonel, but was Captain 
 Nathan Hale a scoundrel ? " 
 
 Hamilton stared angrily for a moment at " Mr. 
 Strong," orderly by brevet, who had asked him 
 that possibly impertinent question. Then he re- 
 membered Tom's gallant attempt to save Nathan 
 Hale, and his anger vanished. He spoke gently. 
 
Tom Strong 267 
 
 " Perhaps, after all, this British major has done 
 nothing more than the laws of war permit. But 
 to tempt a general to betray his post, to sell his 
 soldiers to be butchered — Hale did naught like that. 
 And yet you may be right, lad. We may leave God 
 to judge, for Andre will follow Hale forthwith. 
 The wood of his gallows was long since grown." 
 
 " Will he be hung ? " asked Jameson, with sur- 
 prised and sorrowing eyes. " I hope not. He's a 
 gallant gentleman, if he is an enemy." 
 
 " Aye, so every one says. I hear that in New 
 York and Philadelphia, almost every man and every 
 woman sang the praises of Major Andre. 'Tis 
 hard, perhaps, but hang he will, if I know our Gen- 
 eral. He has never forgotten poor Hale. He will 
 never forget the traitor Arnold. And he will not 
 forget to hang John Andre. Well, you have your 
 instructions. Colonel Jameson. As for you, Mr. 
 Strong — Master Strong, I should say," he added, 
 with a glint of returning laughter in his eyes, " You 
 will awdit further orders in Tappan." And so he 
 rode away. 
 
 On Thursday, September 28th, 1780, a melan- 
 
268 Tom Strong 
 
 choly little procession left Northcastle. Tom rode 
 in advance, stopping at dubious crossroads to see 
 that none went astray. In the center of a group of 
 twenty troopers was Andre, loosely bound to his 
 horse, and Major Tallmadge, the commander of 
 the party. He had been a classmate of Nathan 
 Hale at Yale. The talk turned on Hale. Some- 
 thing in Tallmadge's expression startled Andre. 
 He turned to him with a pale face, saying : 
 
 " Surely you do not consider his case and mine 
 alike?" 
 
 " They are precisely similar, and similar will be 
 your fate." 
 
 It was a needlessly cruel thing to say. The pale 
 face flushed red, but it did not cease to be strong. 
 Then into Andre's mind came the memory of his 
 talk with Mistress Peggy Shippen at the Mischianza 
 in Philadelphia, two years before. 
 
 " Not even for my country," Andre had said, 
 " would I turn po'st-carrier for a traitor. And yet, 
 who knows what he might not do for his country? 
 'Tis a great land, Mistress Peggy, this England 
 which you would spurn." 
 
Tom Strong 269 
 
 At Tappan he was confined in one room of an old 
 house, which was still standing, but crumbling away, 
 a ■ few years since. Let us hope it has vanished. 
 Memorials such as that of the agony of a strong 
 man, done to death when he should have been re- 
 
 JOHN ANDRfi 
 
 joicing in his youth, are best destroyed. England 
 has put Andre in the solemn quiet of Westminster 
 Abbey. America has put Hale above the splendid 
 tumult of Broadway. Other memorials they do not 
 need. 
 
 A court-martial of fourteen generals, headed by 
 Nathanael Greene of Rhode Island, found him 
 
270 Tom Strong 
 
 guilty and decreed his death by hanging. Wash- 
 ington approved the sentence. From his prison 
 Andre sent to the Commander an almost piteous 
 appeal to be shot. In vain. What Howe had 
 meted out to Hale, Washington would mete out to 
 Andre. Quite rightly, too. Both deserved their 
 death by all the laws of war. If Hale had not been 
 caught, Andre would still have been hung. His 
 last hours, however, were not as Hale's had been. 
 With a grave courtesy his every want was supplied. • 
 The day before his execution, he asked to see Tom 
 Strong. Tom, wondering, was ushered into the 
 prisoner's room. Two sentries stood at the open 
 door. Others paced outside. 
 
 " I am told," said the doomed man, " you, though 
 a private soldier, have the honor of having known 
 Mrs. Benedict Arnold. Yes, honor," he added, for 
 a flush was on Tom's frank face. " She knew 
 nothing of her husband's cri — conspiracy." 
 
 " Thank God," said Tom. " She saved my life 
 once," he explained. Then, in reply to Andre's in- 
 quiries, he told how Zed and he had played 
 at being devils; how Cunningham was scared; 
 
Tom Strong 271 
 
 and how Peggy Shippen's quick wit had set them 
 free. 
 
 " I remember that evening well," said Andre. 
 " I took Major Cunningham's place at the table of 
 honor. Gad! Mistress Peggy was adorable that 
 evening. And so she was at the Mischianza. So 
 she always was, and is, and w\ll be — when I am 
 not." 
 
 " She wore our flowers. Zed's and my flowers, 
 at the Mischianza," Tom proudly interrupted. " She 
 told us so last month at headquarters." 
 
 "You sent those wild flowers, did you? I can 
 see them now, as she and I came down the line in 
 ' Sir Roger de Coverley.' She was a perfect 
 creature. Poor Mistress Peggy! She gave me a 
 bit of ribbon that night. I would like to send it 
 back to her, after — after to-morrow. Will you take 
 it and try to get it to her ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 Andre drew from his pocket a bit of gay ribbon, 
 folded in tissue paper. He wrote on his card: 
 " This to Mrs. Arnold, with the loving regards of 
 John Andre, about to die." 
 
272 Tom Strong 
 
 " I do not think General Arnold will object to 
 such a message, seeing that it comes from a scaf- 
 fold he has himself built," said Andre. " If, per- 
 chance, you are on guard to-morrow, when to-mor- 
 •rows cease for me, try to hold that ribbon so that 
 I can see it — at the end." 
 
 Tom promised to do so, and with misty eyes 
 withdrew. 
 
 Monday, October second, 1780, dawned clear and 
 bright. On a little field in the outskirts of Tap- 
 pan a scaffold had been built. Standing on its site 
 to-day you see one of the most beautiful of all 
 peaceful views, the valley of the Hudson. The 
 world must have looked wondrously attractive to 
 the man who stood there then, about to close his 
 eyes upon it forever. The gallows was guarded 
 by a detachment of the First Continentals. Tom 
 was in the front rank. In the muzzle of his gun 
 was Peggy Shippen's ribbon, its gay colors gleam- 
 ing in the sunshine. It was the last thing Andre 
 saw on earth. He smiled and died. 
 
 In that same month of October, General Greene 
 
Tom Strong 273 
 
 was sent South to take command of a badly beaten 
 army. The English had swept through two States 
 victoriously. They had made a plaything pf Gates, 
 who had been in command of our forces. Gates 
 went South in June, with a warning message from 
 his friend, Charles Lee : " Take care your Northern 
 laurels do not change to Southern willows." 
 Within two months, the laurels of Saratoga, which 
 Gates wore, though Schuyler had won them, had 
 withered. Gates was ignominiously beaten by 
 Cornwallis at Camden, S. C, and was beaten by 
 superior generalship. The American retreat be- 
 came a rout. Gates himself rode two hundred 
 miles in four days in his flight. He outstripped his 
 beaten soldiers by many miles. 
 
 So Greene replaced Gates, bringing with him a 
 strong detachment of Washington's army. The 
 First Continentals went with Greene. Tom and 
 Zed went with their regiment. ' They did not stay 
 with it long, for, to their great joy, they were 
 speedily transferred to Colonel Francis Marion. 
 His was a service of scouting and of forays. John 
 Fiske, in his great History of the American Revo- 
 
274 Tom Strong 
 
 lution, gives Marion this page of vivid English : " Of 
 all the picturesque characters of our Revolutionary 
 period, there is perhaps no one who, in the memory 
 of the people, is so closely associated with romantic 
 adventure as Francis Marion. He belonged to that 
 
 FRANCIS MARION 
 
 gallant race of men of whose services France had 
 been forever deprived when Louis XIV revoked 
 the Edict of Nantes. His father had been a planter 
 near Georgetown, ofi the coast, and the son, while 
 following the same occupation, had been called off 
 to the western frontier by the Cherokee war of 
 
Tom Strong 275 
 
 1759, in the course of which he had made himself 
 an adept in woodland strategy. He was now forty- 
 seven years old, a man of few words and modest 
 demeanor, small in stature, and slight in frame, del- 
 icately organized, but endowed with wonderful 
 nervous energy and sleepless intelligence. Like a 
 woman in quickness of sympathy, he was a knight 
 in courtesy, truthfulness, and courage. The bright- 
 ness of his fame was never sullied by an act of 
 cruelty. ' Never shall a house be burned by one 
 of my people,' said he; 'to distress poor women and 
 children is what I detest.' To distress the enemy in 
 legitimate warfare was, on the other hand, a busi- 
 ness in which few partisan commanders have ex- 
 celled him. For swiftness and secrecy he was un- 
 equaled, and the boldness of his exploits seemed 
 almost incredible, when compared with the meager- 
 ness of his resources. His force sometimes con- 
 sisted of less than twenty men, and seldom exceeded 
 seventy. To arm them, he was obliged to take the 
 saws from sawmills and have them wrought into 
 rude swords at the country forge, while pewter 
 mugs and spoons were cast into bullets. With such 
 
276 Tom Strong 
 
 equipment he would attack and overwhelm parties 
 of more than two hundred Tories ; or he would even 
 swoop upon a column of British regulars on their 
 march, throw them into disorder, set free their 
 prisoners, slay or disarm a score or two, and plunge 
 out of sight in the darkling forest as swiftly and 
 mysteriously as he had come." 
 
 We can imagine how Zed and Tom rejoiced in 
 such a leader. Zed became almost an expert horse- 
 man, Tom almost an expert in woodcraft. At night 
 Marion's men would be sitting around a campfire, 
 telling the rude epic tale of foray and fight, and 
 long before morning they would be urging their 
 horses through forest and catie-brake, once more 
 seeking the foe. Among their prisoners one day 
 was a British captain. With a sudden spring from 
 ambush, they had cut off the vanguard of a British 
 column. Some of the EngHsh soldiers were sabered; 
 some of them were captured and swept away into 
 the wooded hills before the startled troopers behind 
 realized what was happening. The captain was in 
 a way Tom's prisoner. The boy had noted the of- 
 ficer fiercely defending himself against three or 
 
Tom Strong 277 
 
 four 'of Marion's men, warding off the sawmill 
 swords with his own blade of Toledo steel, but 
 hopelessly overmatched, and on the point of being 
 slain. Tom galloped up, shouting " Surrender ! You 
 must. There's no help for it. Surrender, I tell 
 you ! " He pulled his horse up on its haunches 
 before the fighting group, and was astonished to 
 hear the Englishman say, with a gay smile, as he 
 held his sword in air : 
 
 " I surrender to Tom Strong." 
 
 A glance showed him that it was Cathcart. They 
 rode together to Marion's camp, while Tom ex- 
 plained his resurrection from the graveyard of Old 
 Trinity; but Cathcart had already heard of it from 
 Mrs. Strong. The man and boy had much to tell 
 each other of exploit and escape. Moreover, Cath- 
 cart had seen Mrs. Strong often during his stay in 
 New York. She had nursed him through an ill- 
 ness. He spoke of her with a deferential admira- 
 tion which warmed the boy's heart. 
 
 " Your mother made me think for the first time 
 that perhaps old England may lose her colonies, 
 after all." 
 
278 Tom Strong 
 
 " How was that, Captain ? " 
 
 " Well, you know how she loves you and ho-w, 
 she misses you. No, you don't, either. No boy in 
 the world ever knew how his mother loved him 
 and how she missed him when he had to go out into 
 the world. I asked Mrs. Strong whether she didn't 
 want you back in the old house on Broad Street, and 
 she said, ' When his country's flag flies at the Bat- 
 tery; not before.' She cried a little, but she meant 
 what she said. She's a Spartan , matron, that 
 mother of yours." 
 
 Now Tom had no idea what the last sentence 
 meant, so he asked rather stiflly: 
 
 " What is a Spartan matron? " 
 
 Cathcart told him the story of the Spartan women 
 who armed their sons for war and bade them good- 
 by, saying : " Come back with your shields or upon 
 them." It was a disgrace to lose one's shield, a 
 glory to fall in battle and be borne home dead upon 
 one's shield. Cathcart told Tom many other things 
 during the week or so they spent together. He 
 gave him glimpses of that great world of enjoyment 
 which opens to you when you open a good book. 
 
Tom Strong 279 
 
 He helped give him a passion for education. And 
 he gave him a pocket-edition of the " Meditations " 
 of 'Marcus Aurelius, which Tom can-ied in his 
 pocket until it dropped to pieces, separated into 
 chunks of wisdom, so to speiik. The talk on horse- 
 back ended with the arrival at camp. Cathcart 
 looked around delightedly. 
 
 " Faith, 'tis a scene from Robin Hood," he said. 
 " 'Tis life under the greenwood tree. I'm glad 
 we're here, for with all my stomach for fightihg, 
 I've a good stomach for beef, just now." 
 
 " I'm afraid you'll get none," answered Tom, 
 " but whatever the Colonel has he will share with 
 you. I am to take you to his tent. Come." 
 
 They walked across the tiny meadow in which 
 Marion was encamped, to the door of his tent. He 
 came out with extended hand, saying : 
 
 " The fortunes of war have made you our pris- 
 oner, Captain, but I welcome you as a guest. 'Tis 
 but a humble board to which I can bid you seat 
 yourself. Yet, as I hear our Schuyler said to your 
 Baroness Riedesel : ' The meal will be seasoned 
 with good wishes.' " 
 
?8o Tom Strong 
 
 Withiil the tent was a rough table, a board rest- 
 ing on stakes driven into the ground. Upon it lay 
 a platter of sweet potatoes, smoking hot, a little 
 heap of salt, and a jug of water. It was all Marion 
 had. He made no apology. And host and guest 
 ate so heartily that the meal needed none. 
 
 A few days later, Cathcart and the other prisoners 
 were sent to General Greene for safekeeping. Tom 
 and Zed were of the guards. 
 
 " I'm afraid it's good-by for a long time, my 
 men," said Marion to them, " for I hear General 
 Greene is reinforcing General Morgan. He's more 
 than likely to send you to him. The officer in 
 command will report to General Greene that you're 
 both good at our kind of warfare; and that's the 
 sort of men Morgan wants. If he takes you, 
 you'll see good fighting." 
 
 He did take them, and they did see good fighting. 
 They were at the battle of the Cowpens. That -^as 
 Morgan's great achievement. Fiske says of it: 
 " In point of tactics, it was the most brilliant battle 
 of the war. Morgan had in him the divine spark of 
 genius." 
 
eEBINNINQ 
 
 O' TMC 
 
 BATTLE. 
 
 C=^ C=S^ CS4i ^G^ 
 
 cm ai d ^ ^ SmnuiSH imc 
 
 \ \ II!! 
 
 BATTLE 
 
 it V-^ §^ 
 
 ■•^- 
 
 "• X n\s V 
 
 ^ >-»--^^'' 
 
 V **=•**,*«■-" N- 
 
 C^B AMCffiCAH Infantry 
 
 Q CAvALfiy 
 
 ^^H Oritish Infantry 
 B Cavalrv 
 
 \ 
 
 X 
 
 BATTLE OP THE COWPENS, JANUARY 17, 1781 
 
 From John Fiske*s "The American Revolution," by per- 
 mission of Houghton Mifflin Company. 
 
282 Tom Strong 
 
 Daniel Morgan was born in New Jersey and bred 
 in Virginia. He was as great a partisan com- 
 mander as Marion. He was somber where Marion 
 was gay; English where Marion's French blood 
 bubbled up; haughty where Marion was winning. 
 
 DANIEL MORGAN 
 
 Their men adored them both, albeit both were merci- 
 less in their demands upon their men. To ride all 
 night and fight all day, to be hungry, to be wet, 
 to be cold and never to complain — ^this is what 
 Morgan expected from his men. He got it all, 
 too, and more; for he got manly worship besides. 
 
Tom Strong 283 
 
 Cornwallis had marched into North Carolina to 
 cut off Greene. He sent Colonel Benastre Tarleton 
 with eleven hundred men to dispose of Morgan. 
 Morgan awaited Tarleton at the Cowpens, just 
 south of the North Carolina boundary, and back in 
 the foothills of the Blue Ridge, the most beautiful 
 of all our mountain ranges. Morgan's militia were 
 in front; his veteran Marylanders, some of whom 
 had fought so well in Brooklyn, in the center; and 
 in the rear Lieutenant-Colonel William Washing- 
 ton, a distant cousin of the Washington, with the 
 cavalry he commanded. Zed was with the militia 
 on the skirmish line. Tom was with the cavalry. 
 He had a splendid horse, which Marion had given 
 him. It had been captured from the British, and 
 knew the British bugle-signals, as Tom was to learn. , 
 
 Tarleton advanced at sunrise. The battle was 
 fought just as Morgan had planned it. It was like 
 a game of chess, which the red King lost. The 
 militia were told to hold their fire until the enemy 
 were " within killing distance," then to give at 
 least two volleys; then to retire around both reg- 
 ulars and cavalry and re-form. 
 
284 Tom Strong 
 
 "What's killing distance?" asked a countryman 
 at Zed's elbow. 
 
 " They told us at Bunker Hill," answered Zed, 
 " ' wait till you see the whites of their eyes; then 
 fire.' That's a good rule. We tried it again at 
 Brooklyn, and it worked." 
 
 " Were you at Bunker Hill and Brooklyn? " It 
 was a militia captain who spoke. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then stand up here by me and give the word. 
 I might give it too soon or too late. You give it." 
 
 Zed, proud as a peacock, stood up with the Cap- 
 tain, just behind the two kneeling ranks of riflemen. 
 Tarleton, a gallant daredevil, cruel with the cruelty 
 of that time, but not so red as he has been painted, 
 came on with his men. There was a tense mo- 
 ment. The scarlet troopers seemed very near. 
 
 " Tell 'em! Why don't you tell 'em? " said the 
 Captain, in a frenzy. 
 
 "Steady, ste-a-a-dy," commanded Zed. "Now, 
 fire ! " 
 
 The volley crashed; so did another; and another; 
 and still a fourth. The green pasture was dotted 
 
Tom Strong 285 
 
 with scarlet coats, stained with scarlet blood, but the 
 brave British came steadily on. 
 
 " Time to retreat and re-form. Captain," said Zed. 
 There was no reply. The Captain had given his life 
 for his country. He lay stretched upon the sward. 
 The sword that had been a saw had snapped with 
 his fall. Zed took command. He did not remem- 
 ber the technical words, but he made his orders 
 clear. 
 
 " Run, run," he shouted, " but run slow ! Run 
 'round the regulars and the cavalry. Keep a-turnin' 
 and fir in'. Stop that, you man there ! " 
 
 The man in question had started on a wild run, 
 throwing away his gun and powder-horn. He was 
 in a panic. Panic is a contagious disease. If not 
 stamped out instantly, it may infect an army and 
 make it a mob. So Zed ran with the leaps of a 
 leopard, caught the fugitive (no coward he, but 
 panic-stricken) by the collar, whirled him around 
 to face the enemy, put a gun in his hands, and 
 called " Fire ! Kill 'em as you run. Run slow ! " 
 The man fired and killed. He fought with steady 
 bravery through the day. With his grateful soul 
 
286 Tom Strong 
 
 in his eyes, he followed Zed as a dog might follow 
 a god. Zed had saved him and kept him a man. 
 
 As the English swept over the ground the militia 
 had occupied, they came face to face with the reg- 
 ulars. These latter swung their right wing back- 
 wards, so that their straight line became two sides 
 of a triangle. At that moment the British cavalry 
 bugles sounded " Charge ! " and their mounted men 
 came on with a rush. 
 
 At the sound of the bugle, Tom's horse pricked 
 up his ears and charged. The boy tried to hold him 
 in vain. He galloped down the little hill upon 
 which Colonel Washington had placed his men. 
 Tom thought he was perforce going to charge alone. 
 He set his teeth and said to himself, " Arnold did 
 it at Freeman's Farm. I saw him. I can do what 
 he did, if he was a General." But there was a 
 roar of hoofs behind him. Washington had meant 
 to charge in a moment, at any rate. When he saw 
 Tom's horse bolt, he knew the boy was riding to 
 his death, if not supported, and he ordered the 
 charge. The cavalry fell upon the British rear as 
 the Marylanders, after firing one volley at thirty 
 
Tom Strong 287 
 
 yards, charged the British front with the bayonet; 
 and as Captain Zed Pratt led the militia, after a cir- 
 cular march, against the British flank. The enemy 
 crumpled up like an exploded balloon. Tarleton 
 barely escaped with two hundred and seventy of his 
 men. He lost two hundred and thirty killed and 
 wounded, six hundred prisoners, two cannon, many 
 muskets. 
 
 Tom was slashing at a British officer, who had 
 turned at bay, when he became aware of a tall man 
 who ran up and threw a stone with singular ac- 
 curacy. The officer's sword dropped. He seized 
 his right elbow with his left hand, and rubbed it 
 frantically. He expressed his opinion of people 
 who threw stones with fluency. He shouted : " I 
 surrender, but only to an officer. Where is there an 
 officer?" 
 
 " Here's one," said the stone-thrower. And Zed, 
 for it was he, stepped forward. He picked up the 
 sword and fastened it to his belt. " Havin' prac- 
 ticed with the tomahawk, I can throw 'most any- 
 thing right smart, includin' stones," he added, with 
 a prodigious wink at Tom. " Git off that horse 
 
288 Tom Strong 
 
 that used to be yours; bein' a captain, I need a 
 mount myself." 
 
 Zed did not look much like an officer. The Eng- 
 lishman doubted him. 
 
 "How do I know you're an officer?" he de- 
 manded. 
 
 " My word's enough," answered Zed. " I was 
 just 'lected on the field of battle. Captain Zedediah 
 Pratt, at your service. But if my word ain't 
 enough, here's a proof of what I say." He made 
 a threatening pass with his new-won sword. 
 
 " And here's another," said Tom, who had drawn 
 his big pistol and was covering the prisioner. , 
 
 The officer was convinced. " Take your horse," 
 he said and dismounted. 
 
 So Private Tom Strong and Captain Zed Pratt 
 rode away together. Zed's hasty election on the 
 field was confirmed by the powers above. In fact, 
 it was more than confirmed. There were people 
 who said his steady coolness had held the militia 
 fire, and thereafter the militia themselves, un- 
 til just the right moment, and that it was he who re- 
 formed them, and he who gave them courage for 
 
Tom Strong 289 
 
 that last decisive charge. General Morgan spoke 
 highly of him in his official report. Congress voted 
 him a sword of honor (which he never received), 
 and a commission as Captain in the Continental 
 
 MEDAL GIVEN TO GENERAL MORGAN IN HONOR OF THE 
 BATTLE OF THE COWPENS 
 
 army (which he did receive, and which he proudly 
 displayed to the day of his death). . 
 
 Thus the Cowpens became a name of fame. In 
 1861, some one suggested to Beauregard, then in 
 command of the Confederate Army at Bull Run, 
 that that name should be changed to " something 
 
290 Tom Strong 
 
 more refined." " Suppose, instead," said Beaure- 
 gard, " we try to make it more famous than the 
 Cowpens." The Confederates proceeded to do so. 
 To-day, however, the bloody battles of 1861-1865 
 are but dim and distant memories. The blue and 
 the gray are blended together into the red, white, 
 and blue. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 TIENEDICT ARNOLD, at the head of sixteen 
 hundred New York Tories, was ravaging and 
 burning along the Virginia coast at the beginning of 
 1 78 1. His new masters had sent him to do this 
 dirty work within three months of the time when 
 he had commanded West Point, respected and hon- 
 ored, the friend of Washington. Now he was glad 
 to be the friend of Cunningham. 
 
 Zed Pratt, traveling northward with despatches, 
 from Greene to Washington, was captured by one 
 of Arnold's raiding parties and brought before the 
 traitor. The despatches had been hid in the chim- 
 ney of Zed's room at a village inn the moment the 
 British troopers came in sight. Zed was lounging 
 about on the first floor, a picture of gawky inno- 
 cence, when they entered the house. But as they 
 caught an American colonel there, they took both 
 
 men back with them. 
 
 291 
 
292 Tom Strong 
 
 Arnold was seated at a table. His hands trem- 
 bled as he played with his sword-knot. He seemed 
 uneasy in his new uniform. It must have been a 
 shirt of Nessus for the traitor. His eyes were 
 bloodshot and gloomy and dull. They took scant 
 note of man or thing. Zed had feared recognition, 
 but there was no danger. H Arnold had seen him 
 oftener than he had at the Beverly Robinson house, 
 he would not have known him now. The Amer- 
 ican colonel was examined first. He stated his 
 name and rank, disclaimed all knowledge of Zed 
 (whom he had met but by chance), and refused to 
 answer the other questions put to him. He was 
 ordered delivered to the provost-marshal. As 
 he was being taken from the room, Arnold 
 spoke. 
 
 " Stay," he said. The prisoner turned and faced 
 him. " What do you suppose my fate would be," 
 he asked, " if my misguided countrymen were to 
 take me prisoner ? " 
 
 " They would cut off the leg that was wounded 
 at Quebec and Saratoga," answered the American 
 officer, with stately contempt, " and bury it with 
 
Tom Strong 293 
 
 the honors of war; and the rest of you they would 
 hang on a gibbet." 
 
 " Take the scoundrel away," roared Arnold. 
 
 Santa Ana, several times president and dictator 
 of Mexico, once made a gallant attack upon the 
 French, who had seized Vera Cruz, and lost a foot 
 in the battle. Years afterwards, during one of his 
 dictatorships, this foot was e^^humed from the ceme- 
 tery at Vera Cruz, brought to Mexico City, and 
 given a state funeral. It was buried with all the 
 honors of war. The dictator sat in a gorgeous car- 
 riage and heard a pompous funeral oration pro- 
 nounced upon his own foot. He afterwards 
 had to flee for his life. This is history's near- 
 est parallel to what might have happened to 
 Arnold. 
 
 Zed was examined and released. He was quite 
 perfect in his part of a rustic bumpkin, scared and 
 ignorant. Within an hour, he was on his way 
 north, but without his despatches. He found the 
 tavern still full of English soldiers, so that he 
 could not search the chimney for the papers. 
 Greene, foreseeing such a contingency, had 
 
294 Tom Strong 
 
 told him the substance of the message to Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 " Say this to General Washington for me," said 
 Greene. " Tell him I can draw Cornwallis to 
 Yorktown, but to capture him we need the French 
 fleet off shore and General Washington on land. 
 Say to him, ' General Greene ■ says come, come, 
 come!'" 
 
 While Zed went north, Tom was in General Mor- 
 gan's command, getting the full joy of the hardest 
 kind of active service. Morgan gave him the com- 
 mand of half a dozen men on several scouting trips, 
 in which he did well. " Plucky Tom " began to be 
 talked about in the little army. It was said that Gen- 
 eral Morgan had pointed him out to Greene as 
 " good stuff for an officer." Zed, of course, had 
 talked about him at every chance. Zed was quite 
 sure that Tom had practically won the battle of the 
 Cowpens single-handed, when his horse ran away 
 with him. To hear Zed talk of Tom, no one would 
 have thought that Zed himself had been anything 
 more than a looker-on at the battle where he had so 
 worthily won his own captaincy. He quite resented 
 
Tom Strong 295 
 
 Tom's remaining a private soldier. In fact, when 
 he was told Congress had voted him a commission, 
 he said to Greene : 
 
 " The boy, he won that battle. General. Can't I 
 just turn over the commission to him? 'T won't 
 make no difference to them Congressmen, will 
 it?" 
 
 He was quite disappointed to find out that com- 
 missions could not be transferred at will. 
 
 When Captain Cathcart was exchanged, he was 
 ordered to report to Arnold, who was resting on his 
 shameful laurels at Norfolk, Virginia, after captur- 
 ing all the cows, scaring all the women, and burning 
 all the houses in that neighborhood. 
 
 " Any letters for New York, Tom? " asked Cath- 
 cart. 
 
 "One for New York, thank you. Captain; — aftd 
 one for Norfolk." 
 
 " I doubt whether there's anybody left in Nor- 
 folk to receive a letter, my boy," Cathcart said, 
 with a frown. " It isn't for me to criticise my 
 superiors, but I don't like the kind of war General 
 Arnold is waging." 
 
296 Tom Strong 
 
 " The Norfolk letter is for that man; — your su- 
 perior, you call him. I don't." 
 
 " What, correspondence with the enemy ? I 
 mustn't take anything your superiors don't approve, 
 my boy. They'll let me carry a letter to your 
 mother in New York, but to Arnold in Norfolk — I 
 doubt it." 
 
 " They approve this, Captain. It's for Mrs. Ar- 
 nold. We don't make war on women, though her 
 husband does." 
 
 " So beautiful Peggy Shippen bewitched you, too, 
 Tom? There's a long line of conquests to her 
 credit, but I didn't know those eyes had bowled you 
 over, too." 
 
 " Mrs. Arnold saved my life once, Captain. It's 
 a mournful message I must send her, but I promised 
 Major Andre I'd do it. Here's the package. ' It's 
 marked ' approved ' by General Greene, you see. 
 He wouldn't let me address it to General Arnold, 
 said there was no such person." 
 
 Tom handed Captain Cathcart the letters, one to 
 his mother, and one to " Mrs. Benedict Arnold, care 
 Mr. Arnold." Both were unsealed. Cathcart took 
 
Tom Strong 297 
 
 them to Norfolk, where Arnold read both. He for- 
 warded both, though he sat long, looking with 
 gloomy eyes at the knot of gay ribbon, and at 
 Andre's card with its inscription : " This to Mrs. 
 Arnold, with the loving regards of John Andre, 
 about to die." On the paper which inclosed the 
 two, Tom had written : " Tom Strong of the First 
 Continentals sends these because Major Andre 
 asked him to do so. Tom Strong again thanks 
 Mrs. Arnold for saving his and Zed Pratt's lives. 
 The ribbon was the last thing Major Andre saw on 
 earth." 
 
 " The First Continentals," mused Arnold. 
 " They were among the troops I was to betray. The 
 six thousand pounds I got was in part their blood 
 money. Will remorse never cease? Shall I never 
 see the old uniform again or think of it without this 
 pang here? " He pressed his hand upon his heart. 
 He did see the old uniform again. He actually 
 wore it once again. It was at the end of his 
 twenty vone years of bitter punishment, for Arnold 
 lived twenty-one years after his treason. On June 
 14th, 1 80 1, feeling death draw near, he arrayed 
 
298 Tom Strong 
 
 himself in the uniform he had worn when he made 
 ready to welcome Washington to the Beverly Rob- ■* 
 inson house, and when he fled to the " Vulture," a 
 detected traitor. He put on the epaulettes and 
 sword knot which Washington had given him after 
 Freeman's Farm and Saratoga. " Let me die in 
 this old uniform," he said, " in which I fought my 
 battles. May God forgive me for ever putting on 
 any other." He died in Peggy Shippen Arnold's 
 faithful arms. Three years afterwards she had the 
 joy of dying, too. 
 
 In the closing days of May of this great year of 
 1 78 1, Lafayette and Cornwallis were playing the 
 game of war where Grant and Lee played it eighty- 
 four years later. Petersburg, Richmond, Fred- 
 ericksburg, the Rapidan — what memories stir in 
 older minds at these names. From one to the 
 other, Lafayette, a youth of twenty-three, led a 
 vivacious French retreat, Cornwallis a dogged Eng- 
 lish pursuit. " The boy cannot escape me," said 
 Cornwallis of Lafayette, much as he had said of 
 Washington five years before : " At last we have 
 
Tom Strong 299 
 
 run down the old fox, and we will bag him in the 
 morning." The old fox and the boy both bit the 
 hand that would have caught them. Now the boy 
 wrote the old fox : " I am not strong enough even 
 to be beaten." So he went on playing with Corn- 
 wallis to the latter's deep disgust. Presently the 
 British general became awake to the fact that he 
 needed supplies, and must fall back to the seaboard 
 to get them. He retreated to Richmond, to Will- 
 iamsburg, to Yorktown. Lafayette, too weak to 
 fight, followed him, and made a brave show of the 
 force he did not possess. , 
 
 Meanwhile Washington and Rochambeau, con- 
 ferring at Wethersfield, in Connecticut, had agreed 
 either to attack Sir Henry Clinton in New York, or 
 to try to defeat Cornwallis in Virginia. It was to be 
 a joint movement with the French fleet under Ad- 
 miral de Grasse, which was then in the West In- 
 dies. Washington was to decide which was to be 
 the objective point. New York or Virginia, Clinton 
 or Cornwallis. 
 
 August 14th, 1780, Washington, at West Point, 
 was told a messenger had arrived from Greene. Zed 
 
300 Tom Strong 
 
 was brought before him. The tall trapper was 
 somewhat abashed, but he remembered he was a 
 Captain of Continentals, so he stood up straight as 
 he saluted. 
 
 " Your Excellency," he said, " General Greene 
 told me to say " 
 
 " What — to sayf Have you no despatches? No 
 credentials ? " 
 
 " Your Excellency did not ask me for credentials 
 when you sent me down this bank to track Benedict 
 Arnold, while Colonel Hamilton and the boy went 
 to Northcastle." 
 
 " Ah, I recognize you now. You are Zed Pratt, 
 Captain Pratt I should say. I know of your gal- 
 lantry at the Cowpens. But still, why have you 
 nothing in writing? " 
 
 " Your Excellency will find the despatches behind 
 the third brick from the front in the tenth tier of 
 bricks in the chimney in the old Virginia Inn, about 
 three miles from Petersburg." 
 
 " I remember the inn," Washington smiled, " but 
 you should have the despatches here." 
 
 " General, we can get them as we go down." 
 
Tom Strong 301 
 
 "Go down? What do you mean? Who has 
 suggested my going down there?" Washington 
 was startled, as well he might be. To no man in 
 the world except Rochambeau, verbally, and de 
 Grasse, by a most confidential despatch, had he 
 spoken even of the possibility of transferring his 
 army from West Point to Yorktown. If a whis- 
 per of such a plan got abroad, the plan was ruined, 
 for the British at New York could readily intercept 
 him. And here was a backwoodsman talking 
 about it. 
 
 " I'm the only man that knows it, General, 'cept 
 General Greene. And neither of us talks," said 
 Zed with an amusing air of intimate companion- 
 ship .with Greene. " I hid the papers to keep 'em 
 from Arnold. You sent me from across there " — 
 Zed pointed to the Beverly Robinson house — " last 
 year to find Arnold, and I never found him till he 
 and I foregathered in Virginia not long ago. Luck- 
 ily for me, he didn't know me. Else I wouldn't be 
 fiere." 
 
 " Well, Captain, your message." 
 
 " He says, says General Greene to me : ' Tell him ' 
 
302 Tom Strong 
 
 — ^that's you, General — ' tell him I can draw Corn- 
 wallis to Yorktown, but to capture him we need the 
 French fleet oflf shore and General Washington on 
 land. Say to him: General Greene says come, 
 come, COME ! ' " 
 
 His words rang with truth, but Benedict Arnold 
 had made Washington wary of all men. He said : 
 
 " And there is no other message? " 
 
 " Yes, Your Excellency. General Greene said if 
 the despatches was lost and you mistrusted me — 
 and I see you do — I was to tell you what you said 
 to him in July, 1780. You said : ' You must endure 
 calumny and wrong, as I have endured it. And at 
 the end, if end there be of our hopes, you and I 
 will die fighting in Virginia.' Them's my 
 credentials, General." 
 
 " They are sufficient. Captain Pratt. I did say 
 that to General Greene alone, none other in ear- 
 shot. You may retire now and await orders. But 
 remember to be silent. One word might be fatal." 
 
 " I'll be as still as if there was Indians around." 
 
 As Zed backed to the door, it swung open. Ham- 
 ilton entered, saying: 
 
Tom Strong 303 
 
 " A courier has arrived, Your Excellency. His 
 despatches say " 
 
 Zed coughed significantly. 
 
 " Just wait, Colonel. The General thinks I talk 
 too much." And Zed retired. That night, to the 
 unbounded delight of old Moses, Captain Pratt 
 dined with the Commander-in-Chief. 
 
 Those timely despatches said that de Grass6 
 would sail for Chesapeake Bay. So Greene's mes- 
 sage fell on willing ears. The march southward 
 was ordered. The orders, however, were to oc- 
 cupy Staten Island, that is, invest New York, so 
 that when the movement began only three people 
 knew that Yorktown, not New York, was the prey 
 the eagle sought. The three were Washington, 
 Rochambeau, and Zed. All three kept still. Un- 
 til, after passing New Brunswick, the line of march 
 was changed, even Hamilton was in ignorance. By 
 that time, the British were behind them, and the 
 road to Yorktown lay clear before them. The 
 army, six thousand strong, two-thirds of them 
 French, left the Hudson August 19th and reached 
 Yorktown September i8th. On September 7th 
 
304 Tom Strong 
 
 young Lafayette, reinforced by three thou- 
 sand soldiers from the French fleet, which had 
 just driven off the English ships, threw up 
 intrenchments across the York peninsula. Corn- 
 wallis was bottled up. Four days before the 
 American army came, the American commander 
 arrived. 
 
 One month after Washington's arrival, Tom 
 Strong ran his last great risk. At his urgent re- 
 quest, Alexander Hamilton let him join a storming- 
 party of volunteers. The British intrenchments 
 included two redoubts, somewhat advanced from 
 the main line. If they could be seized, and their 
 guns turned on that line, the victory was won. 
 Lafayette plead for permission to head one party, 
 but his rank forbade. So Baron de Viomenil was 
 to lead the French volunteers; Hamilton the Amer- 
 icans. There was a great rivalry as to which would 
 first win its redoubt. Bets were freely made. The 
 glory of America and la gloire de la France were 
 to be pitted against each other. Both sets of men 
 were in their best clothes. The French had glit- 
 tering white uniforms, and white flags gleaming 
 
Alexander Hamilton 
 
OPERATIONS IN VIRGINIA, MAY TO OCTOBER, 1781 
 
 From John Fiske's "The American Revolution," by permission of 
 Houghton MiiBin Company. 
 
3o6 Tom Strong 
 
 with the Bourbon lihes in gold. The Americans 
 wore leather or brown duck breeches, fringed buck- 
 skin hunting-shirts, cocked hats with sprigs of 
 green. They had their hair lavishly powdered with 
 flour. It was the first time Tom's hair had been 
 so honored. It was his proud privilege to carry the 
 Stars and Stripes. 
 
 Night came. There was no moon, but a fitful 
 starlight showed in the sky. This was bad for the 
 French, for their white uniforms would reflect it. 
 The Americans' powdered heads would not do them 
 much harm, for the cocked hats hid all but the 
 back of the head, and no one turned his back to the 
 British that night. Zed had volunteered also. He 
 stood by Tom in the darkness. 
 
 " Better let me take that flag, son. It's too heavy 
 for a boy to carry." 
 
 " Not for me." 
 
 " Oh, give it to me, Tom. I want it." 
 
 " I'm sorry. Zed, but I couldn't. Colonel Hamil- 
 ton told me to carry it." 
 
 " But there may be a right smart of fightin' when 
 we git out there where the British be. You'll need 
 
Tom Strong 307 
 
 both hands to fight with, 'stead of carryin' a big 
 pole." 
 
 " You want to take it because you think it's 
 dangerous, Zed. Isn't that the truth ? Come, con- 
 fess." 
 
 " Yes," said Zed, frankly. " I do. The flag is 
 always shot at. So far you've come through all 
 right. You'n me's been together five years. I don't 
 want to go back after the war, and say to your 
 mother, 'Tom's shot.' How'd she feel? What'd 
 she think of me? It's just blame selfish of you not 
 to give me that flag." 
 
 " I can't do that, but please stay behind me. Zed. 
 Then, if anything should happen to me " 
 
 " Nothin's goin' to happen; I won't let it; 
 'twouldn't be fair." 
 
 " If anything should happen, you can carry the 
 flag ahead. I want to plant it there myself, and 
 to beat the Frenchmen, too, but if I don't, you will. 
 I mean to do it, though. It might mean promotion. 
 You're a captain already, and now you're trying to 
 get a chance to be a general. See how selfish you 
 are!" 
 
3o8 Tom Strong 
 
 Tom laughed, but he was touched by Zed's kind 
 offer and by Zed's real reason for it — ^the wish to 
 save Tom from extra risk. There was risk enough 
 as it was. The British well knew the importance of 
 those two redoubts. They were heavily garri- 
 soned; their cannon swept all the ground about 
 them; they were watched by sleepless eyes. It 
 was a mere handful who ventured out against 
 them. 
 
 " Silence in the ranks," whispered Hamilton. 
 " There will be no further orders. I shall be at 
 your head. Follow me. Keep close to me. If I 
 fall, make straight for the redoubt. You all know 
 where it is. Don't cheer. Don't say a word. 
 Charge with the bayonet — and beat our French 
 friends as well as our English foes." 
 
 There came a pause for a few minutes. Hearts 
 beat high. 'Then a rocket rushed up into the sky, 
 scattering its fiery sparks. At that signal the Amer- 
 ican Colonel and the French Baron began their race. 
 Hamilton's fiery spirit had infected all his men. 
 Less heavily equipped than the French, and trained 
 in rude sports of wrestling and running from their 
 
Tom Strong 309 
 
 boyhood, they had the advantage. Moreover, when 
 discovery came, the white uniforms were seen first, 
 and the fire of both redoubts was concentrated on 
 them, while for a moment the Americans raced on 
 unchecked. When they were seen, there seemed to 
 be a volcano of flame hurled at them. The bullets 
 whistled as Tom had never heard them whistle be- 
 fore. They shrieked by like souls eager to disem- 
 body other souls. When one of them found its 
 billet in a body, the " thud " of the bullet was like 
 a chuckle from a demon. " Will we never get 
 there.'' Never get there? " said Tom to himself, as 
 he stumbled over what seemed the tenth mile of 
 plowed field. And suddenly he became aware 
 that they had got there. He climbed up the earth- 
 work at Hamilton's heels, Zed's shoulder pressing 
 him forward. Zed's arm around his waist lifting 
 him. Then the real fighting began. Tom planted 
 the flag on the rampart. It became a focus of fury. 
 Hamilton went down before a clubbed musket that 
 smashed down his guard and half stunned him. Zed 
 bestrode the prostrate officer, and was instantly 
 felled himself. The men, left without leaders, 
 
3IO Tom Strong 
 
 wavered. Then a triumphant boy's voice rang out: 
 
 " Follow your flag ! " 
 
 Tom had seized it again, and now sprang for- 
 ward fiercely with it. The British, startled by the 
 fury of the unexpected attack, recoiled. Through 
 the gap which Tom's rush had made, the Amer- 
 icans poured, while the stabbing thrust of the 
 bayonet did its deadly work. The enemy broke 
 and fled. The flag of the free floated there. A tre- 
 mendous cheer told of their success. Almost at 
 once they heard the " Vive la France " which told 
 of the capture of the other redoubt. But the race 
 was won by Hamilton's men. The captured can- 
 non were turned upon their former owners. Their 
 roar was re-echoed and almost drowned by that of 
 all the batteries of the American intrenchments. 
 In the midst of the horrid din, by the glare of the 
 cannonading, Tom saw Hamilton approach him. 
 He was pale, and he leaned on Zed's arm, but his 
 voice was full and hearty as he said: 
 
 " I owe you my life. Had you not jumped for- 
 ward when you did, I would have been bayoneted 
 to death. He is the boy, after all, Captain Pratt, 
 
Tom Strong 311 
 
 I admit it. And unless my guess is very wrong, 
 by to-morrow Master Strong will be Captain 
 Strong. You won the redoubt, my boy, and Gen- 
 eral Washington shall know of it." 
 
 " He did, Colonel, he did ! " chuckled Zed, and 
 then, stricken with sudden fear of hurting Ham- 
 ilton's feelings, he added : " But you did a lot your- 
 self, Colonel, 'most as much as Tom." 
 
 " He did a thousand times as much as I did," 
 cried Tom. " He planned it all and led it all." 
 
 " But my plans would have ' gang agley,' Tom, 
 but for that famous rush of yours. Let's divide 
 honors. There are enough of them for us both." 
 
 Hamilton guessed aright. A general order read 
 at the head of every regiment in the besieging force 
 next day praised Hamilton and Viomenil, and pro- 
 moted Tom Strong " for daring and bravery on 
 the field of battle " to the rank of captain. 
 
 Tom was happy, but Zed was jubilant. He was 
 even willing to be a captain himself now that Tom 
 was one. He planned innumerable campaigns to 
 come, each with more glory for "the lad." He 
 almost fancied him Commander-in-Chief — " if Gen- 
 
312 * Tom Strong 
 
 eral Washington got tired and wanted to rest a 
 while, you know." But Tom gently laughed hirn 
 back to reason. 
 
 " All I want just now is an honorable peace and 
 a country of our own, with mother and you and me 
 living in it." 
 
 " Our own country," repeated Zed. " That 
 sounds good." 
 
 " And it isn't too good to be true, for it's coming 
 true." 
 
 Three days afterwards, October 17th, 1781, ex- 
 actly four years from the day of Burgoyne's sur- 
 render, the firing ceased and the white flag went up 
 over Yorktown. The terms given by the English 
 to General Benjamin Lincoln at the surrender of 
 Charleston, South Carolina, the year before, were 
 now given them. Lincoln was to receive Corn- 
 wallis's sword. The English bands were to play an 
 English air at the moment of final surrender. In 
 that matter Cornwallis's Irish humor asserted itself. 
 October 19th, his seven thousand two hundred and 
 forty-seven soldiers, and his eight hundred and 
 forty seamen filed out from their trenches to th^ 
 
Tom Strong 313 
 
 meadow, where the ceremony of surrender was to 
 be performed. Washington, splendidly mounted, 
 stood there, with his staff, which numbered for the 
 day by special permission Captain Zed Pratt and 
 Captain Tom Strong. Hamilton had gotten them 
 this honor. Lincoln was in the foreground. The 
 British army marched forward. Their guns were 
 heaped upon the ground. Their furled colors were 
 lowered to the " rebels " who had made a Revolu- 
 tion. It was the end of one epoch, the beginning 
 of another. The divine right of kings began to 
 yield to government of the people, by the people, for 
 the people. Old things were passing away, things 
 that George the Third and Cornwallis had thought 
 were eternal. 
 
 And the English bands played the English tune: 
 ".The World Turned Upside Down ! " 
 
 THE END 
 
COMPANION STORIES OF COUNTRY LIFE 
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BOOKS OF PLAYS- FOR CHILDREN 
 
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 THE SILVER THREAD AND OTHER FOLK 
 PLAYS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 
 
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STORIES FOR GIRLS 
 
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 THE ADOPTING OF ROSA MARIE 
 
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 Publishers New York 
 
By MARY W. PLUMMER 
 
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 For boys aud girls from lo to i6 years, with maps and 
 illustrations from photographs, national songs with 
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 mail, $1.90. 
 
 ROY AND RAY IN CANADA 
 
 The volume embodies very much that is interesting 
 concerning Canadian history, manners and customs, as 
 well as descriptions that describe and pictures that 
 really illustrate. 
 
 " Until the appearance of this book there was really nothing 
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 make it interesting to every chili."— Springfield SepuUican. 
 
 ROY AND RAY IN MEXICO 
 
 A story of Mexican travel for children. Roy and Ray 
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 spend a summer in Mexico. The book tells from the 
 children's standpoint what they see and do, and what 
 they learn about Mexico. 
 
 *' Will be welcome to many readers of mature years as well as 
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 STORIES FROM 
 THE CHRONICLE OF THE CID 
 
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 Presents for young folks a connected narrative of 
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 quotations from Lockhart and attractive illustrations 
 are included. 
 
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By JOSEPH B. AMES 
 
 Western stories for boys from 10 to 16 years 
 Illustrated by VICTOR PERARD. Each, 81.50 
 
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 "Wholesomely exciting . . . stands for real manliness."— CArw- 
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 A story of adventure in Arizona. $1.50 
 
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 followed by the search for it through the entire length 
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 most captious boy reader. 
 
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 of the old days and the absorbing books they used to read when 
 they ought to be studying their lessons . . blood-stirring yet 
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STANDARD CYCLOP-^DIAS FOR YOUNG OR OLD 
 
 champlin's 
 Young Folks' Cyclopedias 
 
 By JOHN D. CHAMPLIN 
 
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 Bound in subst3.ntial red buckram. Each volume complete 
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 COMMON THINGS 
 
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 as they might those of a fairy book, reading intently articles of which 
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 quantities. "—AT. K Evening Fast, 
 
 LITERATURE AND ART 
 
 604 pp. 270 Illustrations 
 
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 about will be missed here. Mr. Champtin's judgment seems unusually 
 sound." — The Nation, 
 
 GAMES AND SPORTS 
 
 By John D. Champlin and Arthur Bostwick 
 Revised Edition, 784 pp. 900 Illustrations 
 
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 NATURAL HISTORY 
 
 By John D. Champlin, assisted by Frederick A, Lucas 
 725 pp. Over 800 Illustrations 
 
 " Here, in compact and attractive form, is valuable and reliable in- 
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