•

'Now, that you've got here, at last,'—said Horse Shoe, Hell me the news.'—

'Major Butler is in the house,'—said Mary and John, both speaking at once.—'He was brought there yesterday from Blackstock's,'—continued the maiden.— 'Orders came from somebody that he was to be kept at our house, until they had fixed upon what was to be done with him. Colonel Innis was too ill to think of such matters, and has been carried out of the neighbourhood—and, it is thought, he will die.'

'How many men are there to guard the prisoner?'— asked the sergeant.'—

'There are more than twenty, with a lieutenant, from Ninety-Six, who has the charge of them.'

'And how does the major bear his troubles?'—

'He seems to be heavy at heart'—replied the maiden:-— 'But that may be because he is away from his friends.— Though my father, who is a good judge of such things, says he suffers tribulation like a christian.—He asked me privately, if I had heard any thing of you, Mr. Robinson: and when I told him what folks said about your being with the people that beat colonel Innis, he smiled, and said if any man could get him free, it was Horse Shoe Robinson.'

'Do they allow you to see him often?'—inquired the sergeant.—

'I have seen him only two or three times since he came to the house,'—-answered the maiden.—'But the officer that has charge of him is not contrary nor illnatured, and makes no objection to my carrying him his meals—though I am obliged to pretend to know less about major Butler than I do, for fear they might be • jealous of my talking to him.'

'You can give him a letter?'—

'I think I can contrive it'—replied the maiden.

'Then give him this, my good girl,'—said Robinson, taking Williams' letter from his pocket and putting it in Mary's hand. 'It is a piece of writing that he can use whenever he is much pressed. It may save him from harm. Now, I want you to do something more. You must find a chance just to whisper in his ear, that Horse Shoe Robinson and John Ramsay are in the neighbourhood. Tell him, likewise, that colonel Williams has sent a messenger to Lord Cornwallis to lay his case before that officer, and to get some order for his better treatment. That the doings of that rascally court martial have been sent by the messenger, hoping that Lord Cornwallis, if he is a brave and a christian man—as they say he is—will stop this onmerciful persecution of the major—which has no cause for it under heaven.—Will you remember all this?'—

'I'll try, sir'—responded Mary—'and besides I will tell it to my father, who has more chance of speaking to major Butler than l.have.'

'Now,'—said Horse Shoe—'we will be here again tomorrow night, a little earlier than this.—you must meet us here. And say to the major, if he has any message for us, he may send it by you:—but, be cautious, Mary, how you are seen talking with the prisoner. If they suspect you, it will spoil all.'

'Trust to me'—said the girl—'I warrant I have learned by this time how to behave myself amongst these red coats.'

'There, John'—continued Horse Shoe—'I have said all I want to say—and as you, I make no doubt, have got a good deal to tell the girl—it is but fair that you should have your chance. So, do you walk back with her as far as the mill, and I'll wait here for you. But don't forget yourself by overstaying your furlough.'

'I must get home, as fast as possible,'—said Mary— 'They will be looking for me.'

'Away, John Ramsay—away,'—added Horse Shoe— -and have your eyes about you, man.'

With this command, John Ramsay and the miller's daughter hastily withdrew, and were soon out of the sergeant's hearing.

After an interval, which doubtless seemed short to the gallant dragoon, he returned to his comrade; and the two set out rapidly in quest of their horses; and once more having got into their saddles, they retraced their steps, at a brisk speed, to Ramsay's cabin.

VOL. II. 4*

CHAPTER V.

All distant and faint were the sounds of the battle.
With the breezes they rise, with the breezes they fail,
Till the shout and the groan and the conflict-s dread rattle,
And the chase's wild clamour come loading the gale.

The Maid tf Toro.

In the confusion that ensued upon the defeat of Innis, James Curry succeeded in conducting Butler from ' the field. His orders were to retreat with the prisoner to Blackstock's; and he had accordingly set out with about a dozen troopers, by a private path that led towards a quarter secure from the molestation of the enemy, when the attack commenced. Butler was mounted behind one of the men, and, in this uneasy condition, was borne along the circuitous by-way that had been chosen, without-a moment's respite from the severe motion of the horse, nearly at high speed; until, having accomplished nearly three miles of the retreat, the party arrived at the main road that extended between Innis's camp and Blackstock's. Here, Curry conceiving himself to be out of danger of pursuit, halted his men. with a purpose to remain until he could learn something of the fate of the combat. Butler was in a state of the most exciting bewilderment as to the cause of this sudden change in his affairs. No explanation was given to him by his conductors; and although, from the first, he was aware that an extraordinary emergency had arisen from some assault upon Innis's position, no one dropped a word in his hearing, to give him the slightest clue to the nature of the attack. The troopers about him preserved a morose and ill-natured silence, and even manifested towards him a harsh and resentful demeanour. He heard the firing; but what troops were engaged, by whom led, or with what chances of success, were subjects of the most painfully interesting doubt. He could only conjecture that this was a surprise accomplished by the Whigs, and that the assailants must have come in sufficient force to justify the boldness of the enterprise. That Horse Shoe was connected with this irruption, he felt fully assured; and, from this circumstance, he gathered the consolatory and cheerful prognostic of a better issue out of his afflictions, than, in his late condition, seemed even remotely possible. This hope grew brighter as the din of battle brought the tidings of the day to his ear. The first few scattered shot, that told of the confusion in which the combat was begun, were, after an interval, succeeded by regular vollies of musketry that indicated an orderly and marshalled resistance. Platoon after platoon fired in regular succession,—signifying, to the practised hearing of the soldier, that infantry were receiving the attacks of cavalry, and that as yet the first had not faltered. Then, the firing grew more slack; and random shots were discharged from various quarters;—but amidst these were heard no embodied vollies. It was the casual and nearly overpowered resistance of flying men.

At this juncture there was a dark frown on the brow of Curry, as he looked at his comrades, and said, in a low and muttered tone,—'that helter-skelter shot grates cursedly on the ear.—There's ill luck in the sound of it.' Presently, a few stragglers appeared at a turn of the road, some quarter of a mile in the direction of the battle, urging their horses forward at the top of their speed. These were followed by groups both of infantry and cavalry, pressing onward in the utmost disorder—those on horseback thrusting their way through the throng of footsoldiers, seemingly regardless of life or limb;—the wounded with their wounds bleeding afresh, or hastily bandaged with such appliances as were at hand. All hurried along amidst the oaths, remonstrances and unheeded orders of the officers, who were endeavouring to resume their commands:—it was the flight of men beset by a panic, and fearful of pursuit; and the clouds of dust raised by the press and hurry of this career almost obscured the setting sun.

During the first moments of uncertainty, Curry, no less anxiously than Butler, remained stationary by the roadside,—reading the distant signs of the progress of the fight: but now, when the disastrous issue was no longer doubtful, he commanded his cavalcade to move forward; and, from that moment, prosecuted his journey with unabated speed until he arrived at Blackstock's.

Butler was unceremoniously marched to his former place of confinement in the barn, where a rigorous guard was set over his person. In the confusion and insubordination that prevailed amongst the crowd, that, during the night, was continually increasing in the little hamlet, the common rites of humanity towards the prisoner were forgotten, and he was left to pass the weary hours till morning, on a shock of hay, without food or other refreshment, than a simple draught of water. From the unreserved murmurs of those who frequented the place, and the querulous upbraidings of the soldiery against each other, Butler was enabled to glean the principal incidents of the day. The supposed death of Innis reached him through this channel, and, what was scarcely a subject of less personal interest to him, the certain end of Hugh Habershaw. It was with a silent satisfaction at the moral or poetical justice—as it has been called—of the event, that he heard the comrades of the late selfconceited captain describe his death in terms of coarse and unpitying ribaldry,—a retribution due to the memory of a cruel and cowardly braggart.

When the morning was fully abroad, the disarranged and broken remnants of the Tory camp, began gradually to be reduced to a state of discipline. The day was spent in this occupation. Orders were every moment arriving from the higher officers of the late camp, or from the nearest British posts. Videttes bore the tidings of the different military operations from the neighbourhood of the enemy. The fragments of companies were marshalled into squads and subdivisions; and, successively, one party after another was seen to leave the hamlet, and take a direction of march that led towards the main British army, or to the garrisons of the lower districts.

Towards the close of the day one detachment only was left; and Butler was given to understand that this was entrusted with his especial keeping. It was composed of a few regular soldiers of the garrison of NinetySix, and a small number of the country militia,—making, in all, about twenty men, commanded by lieutenant Macdonald of the regular army.

Butler remained in his present state of seclusion four