CHAPTER II.

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A RETREAT AFTER THE MANNER OF XENOPIION.

The next morning, a little after sun-rise, as Robinson was holding the watch on the outer ledge of the rock, in a position that enabled him to survey the approaches to the spot through the valley, as well as to keep his eye upon the ensign and Christopher Shaw, who were both asleep under cover of the crag, he was startled by a distant noise of something breaking through the bushes on the margin of the brook. At first, it struck him that this was caused by deer stalking tip the stream; but he soon afterwards descried the head and shoulders of a man whose motions showed him to be struggling through the thicket towards the base of the hill. This person, at length, reached a space of open ground, where he halted and looked anxiously around him, thus revealing his figure, as he sat oft horseback, to the observation of the sergeant; who, in the meantime, had taken advantage of a low pine tree and a jutting angle of the rock to screen himself from the eager eye of the traveller,—at least, until he should be satisfied as to the other's character and purpose.

A loud and cheerful halloo, several times repeated by the stranger, seemed to indicate his quest of a lost companion; and this gradually drew the sergeant, with a wary motion, from his hiding place,—until assuring himself that the comer was alone, he slept out to the edge of the shelf of rock, and, presentmg his musket, peremptorily gave the common challenge of 'who goes there?'—

'A friend to Horse Shoe Robinson,'—was the reply of the visiter—in whom my reader recognises John Ramsay.

Before further question might be asked and answered, John had dismounted from his horse and clambered to the platform, where he greeted the sergeant and the hastily-awakened Christopher Shaw, with a hearty shake of the hand; and then proceeded to communicate the pressing objects of his visit, and to relate all that he had learned of the recent events during his short stay at his Other's house.

In the consultation that followed these disclosures, Ramsay earnestly urged his comrades to make instant preparation to quit their present retirement, and to attempt the enterprise of conducting the prisoner to Williams, who was supposed to be advancing into the neighbourhood of a well known block-house, or frontier fortification, on the Saluda, about forty miles from their present position.

The message with which Ramsay was charged from Sumpter to Williams made it necessary that he should endeavour to reach that officer as soon as possible; and, the sergeant, rejoicing in the thought of being so near a strong body of allies, who might render the most essential aid to the great object of his expedition, readily concurred in the propriety of the young trooper's proposal. This enterprise was also recommended by the necessity of taking some immediate steps to preserve the custody of the ensign, whose capture had already been so serviceable to the cause of Arthur Butler. In accordance, moreover, with John Ramsay's anxious entreaty, Christopher Shaw, it was determined, should hasten back to the mill at the earliest moment.

A speedy departure was, therefore, resolved on, and accordingly all things were made ready, in the course of the next hour, to commence the march. At the appointed time the ensign was directed to descend into the valley, where he was once more bound to his horse. The conferences between the sergeant and his two comrades had been held out of the hearing of ,the prisoner; but it was now thought advisable to make him acquainted with the late proceedings that had transpired with regard to Butler, and especially with the respite that had been given to-that officer by Innis.—This communication was accompanied by an intimation that he would best consult his ovvn comfort and safety by a patient submission to the restraints that were put upon him,—inasmuch as his captors had no disposition to vex him with any other precautions than were necessary for his safe detention during the present season of peril to Butler.

With this admonition the party began their journey. The first two or three hours were occupied in returning, by the route of the valley, to the Ennoree. When they

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reached the river they found themselves relieved from the toils of the narrow and rugged path by which they had threaded the wild mountain dell, and introduced into an undulating country covered with forest, and intersected by an occasional but unfrequent road leading from one settlement to another. Here Christopher Shaw was to take leave of his companions,—his path lying along the bank of the Ennoree,—whilst the route to be pursued by the others crossed the river and extended thence southward to the Saluda. The young miller turned his horse's head homeward, with some reluctance at parting .with his friends in a moment of such interest, and bore with him many messages of comfort and courage to those whom . he was about to rejoin—and more particularly from the sergeant to Butler, in case Christopher should have the good fortune to be able to deliver them. At the same time Horse Shoe and John Ramsay, with the prisoner, forded the Ennoree, and plunged inlo the deep forest that lay upon its further bank.

For several hours they travelled with the greatest circumspection, avoiding the frequented roads and the chance of meeting such wayfarers as might be abroad on their route. It was a time of great anxiety and suspense, but the habitual indifference of military life gave an air of unconcern to the conduct of the soldiers, and scarcely affected, in any visible degree, the cheerfulness of their demeanour.

They reached, at length, the confines of a cultivated country—a region which was known to be inhabited by several Tory families. To avoid the risk of exposure to persons who might be unfriendly to their purpose, they thought it prudent to delay entering upon this open district until after sun-set, that they might continue their journey through the night. The difficulty of ascertaining their road in the dark, and the danger of seeking information from the few families whose habitations occurred to their view, necessarily rendered their progress slow. The time was, therefore, passed in wary silence and persevering labour, in the anxious contemplation of the probability of encountering some of the enemy's scouts.

At break of day they stopped to refresh themselves;

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and the contents of Horse Shoe's wallet, unhappily reduced to a slender supply of provisions, were distributed amongst the party. During this halt, John Ramsay commanded the ensign to exchange hi* dress with him; and our faithful ally was converted, by this traffic, for the nonce, into a spruce, well-looking and gay young officer of the enemy's line.

The most hazardous portion of their journey now lay before them. They were within a few miles of the Saluda; from whence, at its nearest point, it was some six or seven more, down the stream, to the Block house— the appointed rendezvous, where it was yet a matter of uncertainty whether Williams had arrived. The space between the travellers and the river was a fertile and comparatively thickly-peopled region, of which the inhabitants were almost entirely in the tory interest. The - broad day-light having overtaken them on the confines of this tract, exposed them to the greatest risk of being questioned. They had nothing left but to make a bold effort to attain the river by the shortest path; and thence to pursue the bank towards the rendezvous.

'Courage, John,'—said Horse Shoe, smiling at thp new garb of his comrade,—'you may show your pretty feathers to-day to them that are fond of looking at them. And you, my young clodpole,—ride like an honest Whig —or I mought find occasion to do a discomfortable thing, by putting a bullet through and through you. Excuse the liberty, sir, for these are ticklish times,—but I shall ondoubtedly be as good as my word.'—

Our adventurers soon resumed their journey. They had come within a mile of the Saluda, without interruption, and began to exchange congratulations that the worst was passed, when they found themselves descending a sharp hill which jutted down upon an extensive piece of pasture ground.—One boundary of this was watered by a brook, along whose margin, a fringe of willows, intermixed with wild shrubbery of various kinds, formed a screen some ten or fifteen feet in height. As soon as this range of meadow was observed, our cautious soldiers halted upon the brow of the hill to reconnoitre; and perceiving nothing to excite their apprehension, they ven-» tured down, upon the track of an ill-defined road, which took a direction immediately over the broadest portion of the field.

They had scarcely erossed the brook at the bottom of the hill, before they heard the remote voices of men in conversation, and the tones of a careless laugh. On looking towards the upper section of the stream, they were aware of a squad of loyalist cavalry who came riding, in the shade of the willows, directly towards the spot where the travellers had entered upon the meadow. The party consisted of seven or eight men who were, at this instant, not more than one hundred paces distant.

'They are upon us, sergeant"—exclaimed John Ramsay.—'Make sure of the prisoner: retreat as rapidly as you can. Leave me to myself.—Make for the Block house,—I will meet you there.'

With these hasty intimations, he pricked his courser up to full speed, and shaped his flight directly across the open field, in full view of the enemy.

Horse Shoe, at the same moment, drew a pistol, cocked it,—then threw the rein( of St. Jermyn's horse into the hand of the rider, as he cried out:—

'Back across the branch and into the woods!—Push for it,—or by G— you are a dead man! On, on!'—he added, as he rode at high speed, immediately beside the ensign,—'a stumble, or a whisper above your breathy and you get the bullet. Fly-^your life is in your horse's heels!' ,

The resolute tone of the sergeant had its effect upon his prisoner, who yielded a ready obedience to the pressing orders, and bounded into the thicket, with as much alacrity as if flying from an enemy.

Meantime the troopers, struck with the earnest haste of one whose dress bespoke a British officer, speeding across the field, did not doubt that they had afforded this timely •opportunity for the escape of a prisoner from the hands of the Whigs.

. 'Wheel up, lads.'—shouted the leader of the squad,— 11 ls the ensign! Wheel up and form a platoon to cut off tne pursuit—We have him safe out of their clutches!'--.