The Master of Appleby | Page 3

bestir myself to do the honors of my poor forest fastness
as well as I might.
Luckily, my haphazard larder was not quite empty, and there were
presently a bit of cold deer's to eat and some cakes of maize bread
baked in the ashes to set before the guest. Also there was a cup of sweet
wine, home-pressed from the berries the Indian scuppernong, to wash
them down. And afterward, though the evening was no more than
mountain-breeze cool, we had a handful of fire on the hearth for the
cheer of it while we smoked our reed-stemmed pipes.
It was over the pipes that Jennifer unburdened himself of the gossip of
the day in Queensborough.
"Have you heard the newest? But I know you haven't, since the
post-riders came only this morning. The war has shifted from the North
in good earnest at last, and we are like to have a taste of the harryings
the Jerseymen have had since '76. My Lord Cornwallis is come as far
as Camden, they say; and Colonel Tarleton has crossed the Catawba."
"So? Then Mr. Rutherford is like to have his work cut out for him, I
take it."
Jennifer eyed me curiously. "Grif Rutherford is a stout Indian fighter;
no West Carolinian will gainsay that. But he is never the man to match
Cornwallis. We'll have help from the North."
"De Kalb?" I suggested.
Again the curious eyeshot. "Nay, John Ireton, you need not fear me,

though I am just now this redcoat captain's next friend. You know more
about the Baron de Kalb's doings than anybody else in Mecklenburg."
"I? What should I know?"
"You know a deal--or else the gossips lie most recklessly."
"They do lie if they connect me with the Baron de Kalb, or with any
other of the patriot side. What are they saying?"
"That you come straight from the baron's camp in Virginia--to see what
you can see."
"A spy, eh? 'Tis cut out of whole cloth, Dick, my lad. I've never took
the oath on either side."
He looked vastly disappointed. "But you will, Jack? Surely, you have
not to think twice in such a cause?"
"As between King and Congress, you mean? 'Tis no quarrel of mine."
"Now God Save us, John Ireton!" he burst out in a fine fervor of
youthful enthusiasm that made him all the handsomer, "I had never
thought to hear your father's son say the like!"
I shrugged.
"And why not, pray? The king's minion, Tryon, hanged my father and
gave his estate to his minion's minion, Gilbert Stair. So, in spite of your
declarations and your confiscations and your laws against alien
landholders, I come back to find myself still the son of the outlawed
Roger Ireton, and this same Gilbert Stair firmly lodged in my father's
seat."
Jennifer shrugged in his turn.
"Gilbert Stair--for sweet Madge's sake I'm loath to say it--Gilbert Stair
blows hot or cold as the wind sets fair or stormy. And I will say this for
him: no other Tryon legatee of them all has steered so fine a course

through these last five upsetting years. How he trims so skilfully no
man knows. A short month since, he had General Rutherford and
Colonel Sumter as guests at Appleby Hundred; now it is Sir Francis
Falconnet and the British light-horse officers who are honored. But let
him rest: the cause of independence is bigger than any man, or any
man's private quarrel, friend John; and I had hoped--"
I laid a hand on his knee. "Spare yourself, Dick. My business in
Queensborough was to learn how best I might reach Mr. Rutherford's
rendezvous."
For a moment he sat, pipe in air, staring at me as if to make sure that he
had heard aright. Then he clipt my hand and wrung it, babbling out
some boyish brava that I made haste to put an end to.
"Softly, my lad," I said; "'tis no great thing the Congress will gain by
my adhesion. But you, Richard; how comes it that I find you taking
your ease at Jennifer House and hobnobbing with his Majesty's officers
when the cause you love is still in such desperate straits?"
He blushed like a girl at that, and for a little space only puffed the
harder at his pipe.
"I did go out with the Minute Men in '76, if you must know, and smelt
powder at Moore's Creek. When my time was done I would have 'listed
again; but just at that my father died and the Jennifer acres were like to
go to the dogs, lacking oversight. So I came home and--and--"
He stopped in some embarrassment, and I thought to help him on.
"Nay, out with it, Dick. If I am not thy father, I