CHAPTER XXX
TOM COWARD'S PATIENT
THE place where young Lieutenant Gordon was lying was in the rear of thebarn which belonged to the parsonage of the "new church." After thebullet had hit him, he had managed to crawl to that secluded place, butthe sounds of the battle, which was still being waged in the vicinity,were not long heard by the wounded officer, for he had soon becomeunconscious, and the roar of the cannon and the shouts of the men wereall unheeded and unheard.
"Is he dead?" said Nathan in a low voice, as he looked down upon theunconscious man.
"No! no!" replied Tom hastily; "or at least he wasn't a minute ago. No,he's still alive," he added after a hurried examination. "We must carryhim away from this place."
"I see no place for thy friend. These sons of Belial are not likely topermit thee to depart unnoticed."
Friend Nathan was trembling, and his face betrayed his alarm. And therewas much to frighten him. Clouds of smoke could be seen not far away,and the loud shouts of men and the reports of their guns could bedistinctly heard. The struggle near the meeting-house was one of themost severe in all the battle, and the danger of which the frightenedNathan spoke was not unreal. But Tom's fears had departed now, andalthough he never fully understood the cause of the change in hisfeelings, the sight of his suffering friend and his determination to aidhim had banished all thoughts concerning his own personal safety.
At a distance of a half mile, Tom could see a little farmhouse, and hehastily decided that the young lieutenant must be carried there. Thebuilding was on the border of the plain and on the side opposite to theplace where the struggle was going on.
There would be danger in the attempt to carry him across the field, butthinking only of his friend, Tom said hastily, "We must carry him tothat farmhouse yonder, Nathan. I don't know who lives there, but whoeverdoes won't refuse to receive a wounded man, I know. You take hold of hisfeet, and I'll lift the head and shoulders, and we'll get him theresomehow. Come, Nathan, we mustn't delay a minute."
"Have it thine own way, Friend Thomas," replied Nathan, as he stoopedand grasped the legs of the wounded officer.
Tom gently lifted the head of the young lieutenant at the same time, andcarefully across the field the two men began to move with their burden.Their progress necessarily was slow, and the lad's fears were notallayed by the evident alarm of his companion. Nathan repeatedly glancedbehind him, and several times Tom was compelled to speak sharply torecall the frightened man to their present task. The shouts and reportsof the guns were increasing, and Tom's strongest desire was to avoidattracting the attention of any of the combatants.
They had safely passed beyond the orchard, and he was just beginning tohope that their efforts would be successful, when suddenly Nathan's hatwas lifted from his head and the sound of a whistling musket-ball washeard as it passed above them.
For a moment, the startled Nathan looked down at his hat, and as heperceived the hole in it which the bullet had made, he instantlydropped his burden, and turning sharply about, started in a swift runacross the field.
"Come back, Nathan! Come back! Don't leave me here!" pleaded Tom; butNathan did not heed the call.
His pace was a marvelous one for a man of his years, and as he bent lowover the ground, as if to avoid other bullets which might be comingtoward him, and sped swiftly forward, under other circumstances Tommight have felt inclined to laugh at the ludicrous sight the fleeing manof peace presented. But as it was he felt much more inclined to cry thanto laugh, and, as he realized his own helplessness, he knew not what todo. If he had been alone he might have followed Nathan and gained aplace of safety, but, as he glanced down upon the suffering man, who nowlay stretched upon the ground, his whole soul rebelled against thethought of deserting his friend in a time like that.
What could he do? The desperate lad looked about him hoping to discoversome one whom he might summon to his aid. In the distance he could seethe bands of struggling soldiers, and their shouts and shots could beclearly heard. But they were all intent upon their own contest, andthere was no one who would hear or heed him if he should call.
He could not abandon his friend--that much at least was certain; and atlast he determined to do his utmost to carry the helpless, wounded manhimself. Placing his arms beneath the shoulders of the unconsciouslieutenant, and striving to rest the head against his own body, hestarted slowly on, dragging the man with him. His progress wasnecessarily slow, and he was compelled to stop frequently, both for hisown sake and that of his friend. Still, on and on he persistently madehis way. The intense heat of the day, his constant fear that life woulddepart from the body he was dragging forward, the sound of the battlebehind him, all combined to increase his troubles; but not for a momentdid he think of abandoning his efforts for his friend.
Proceeding slowly, stopping at frequent intervals and then resuming hisefforts, he steadily drew nearer to the farmhouse he had perceived inthe distance. How much time had been consumed he could not determine.The minutes seemed like hours to the struggling lad. His own danger wasall forgotten for the time, and the one purpose in his mind was tocarry Lieutenant Gordon to some place of safety, where it should bepossible to do something for the relief of the desperately wounded man.
At last, only one more lot remained to be crossed, and with renewed hopeTom was about to lift his burden, which he had dropped for one of hisbrief rests, when he suddenly discovered a man running toward him.Startled and alarmed by the sight he quickly perceived that theapproaching man was Friend Nathan, who, hatless and with a drippingface, was soon by his side.
"Thou hast put me to shame, Friend Thomas," said Nathan soberly. "Thouart a better man than I, as well as a braver. I know not why it was, butwhen my hat was lifted from my head, and I perceived that hole thebullet had made, I lost my self-control. My teaching has been that ofpeace and I am poorly prepared for the contests of war. I will give theeno cause to complain now."
"Take hold, then," said Tom quickly. "We must get the lieutenant out ofthis heat, or there'll be no hope for him."
Nathan eagerly responded, and tenderly lifting the wounded man theyproceeded across the lot.
When they halted for their first rest, Nathan said, "I have a word tosay to thee, Friend Thomas. What did Washington say to thee when heheard thy demand for a recompense for the beast I let thee have?"
"Say? He didn't say anything, because I didn't say anything to him. Youdon't suppose he hadn't anything more to do than to talk with a boy likeme about your old, broken-winded razor-back, do you? I don't even knowwhat has become of the beast. I know I'm glad I don't have to ride itany more."
"'Tis well, Friend Thomas," replied Nathan, although Tom thought hediscovered a trace of disappointment in the expression upon his face."'Tis well, and I would not have it otherwise. I have been humiliated bymy weakness in deserting thee, a mere lad, at such a time as this. Iwould like also to restore to you the half-joe you paid me for mybeast." And as Nathan spoke, he drew the coin from his pocket and heldit forth for Tom to take.
"I don't want your money," said the lad quickly. "Take hold of thelieutenant again, and this time we'll not stop before we come to thehouse."
Once more they tenderly took up their burden, and slowly advancing, soonapproached the house. In the doorway a man and a young woman, evidentlyhis daughter, were standing, watching the movements of the approachingmen with a curiosity which the noise of the battle in the distance couldnot entirely dispel.
Tom's heart was lighter when he recognized the man as Jonathan Cook andthe young woman as his daughter Mary.
"We've brought this man here," said Tom quickly, "to find aresting-place for him. It's Lieutenant Gordon, and he's terriblywounded. Will you let us put him in one of your beds?"
"We will that," said Mr. Cook. "We've got one poor fellow here now, andwill do all we can for another, too. Take him right in here," he added,leading the way to a bedroom adjoining the living-room on the groundfloor.
Tom and Nathan eagerly follow
ed him, and in a brief time had placed thesuffering man on the high bed. Although the lad was almost exhausted byhis efforts, with Nathan's aid he soon removed the clothing of theyoung officer, and then Mary came and bathed his bleeding face, and withmany expressions of sympathy listened to the story the weary boy had totell.
"I don't suppose it's been wise or safe for us to stay here," said Mary,"but we just couldn't leave the old place until we had to. We've beenkeeping watch all day long, and if the redcoats come this way we shallhave to go. It's been a good thing we've stayed, though, for CaptainNealey is upstairs and he's almost as badly wounded as this poor man is.Oh, it's horrible, horrible!"
But intense as Mary's feelings were, they did not prevent her frombestowing a very tender care upon the unconscious young lieutenant, andas soon as Tom was satisfied that his friend was receiving betternursing than he could give, the lad went out of the room.
He discovered Nathan bathing his face and hands near the water-barrel,which stood beneath the corner of the eaves, and after he had followedhis example, he began to be sensible of his own feeling of exhaustion.
"Now, Friend Thomas, thee must lie down and get some sleep," saidNathan. "I will assist Mary in her care of thy friend, and I insistthat my words he obeyed. The heavy task has been thine, and my owncowardice has added to thy burdens, so that now it is thy turn to rest."
The tired lad was easily persuaded, and after again going into the roomin which the unconscious lieutenant was lying, he followed Mr. Cook upthe stairs to a room above, and soon threw himself heavily upon the bedand fell into a deep sleep.
It was dark when he awoke, and at first it was almost impossible for himto recall the events of the day. They soon returned, however, andhastily arising, he made his way down the stairs and entered theliving-room, where he discovered Nathan seated in one of the largewooden chairs. The moonlight came in through the open windows, and asNathan perceived the lad, he said,--
"And did sleep come to thee, Friend Thomas?"
"Yes. I'm rested now. How's the lieutenant?"
"There has been no change. Mary comes every hour and bathes his face incool water from the well, but he does not open his eyes."
"Is the battle ended? I don't hear any guns."
"I know not. Since sunset all has been quiet, and it is now midnight."
"I'll watch now, and you go upstairs and get some sleep."
"Nay. I ought not to rest after my cowardice."
"Never mind that. You will do all the more if you rest awhile now."
Nathan was soon persuaded, and Tom took his place as watch. He couldhear the troubled breathing of the suffering man, but it was the onlysound to be heard. Outside the house all was silent, and as the slowhours passed, the only break which came was the occasional visit of Maryto bathe the face of the sufferer.
At daybreak, Mr. Cook brought the news of the retreat of the British,and great was the rejoicing in the old farmhouse when it was learnedthat at least the Americans had not suffered defeat in the battle of thepreceding day.
Lieutenant Gordon was still living, although no signs of improvement inhis condition could be discovered. Tom speedily decided that, as he wasnot enrolled in the army, there was nothing to prevent him fromremaining and caring for his friend. Nathan also declared that he wouldreturn to his aid as soon as he had gone home and explained to Rachelthe necessity for a further absence, and the lad did not protest, for hethought he understood the motive which prompted the action.
During the day, Mr. Cook brought the reports of the battle, the hundredprisoners taken, the number of the dead and wounded, and the measureswhich were being taken in the scattered farmhouses and the oldCourt-House for the care of the sufferers.
Tom did not leave the house. His one thought now was of his woundedfriend, and all that loving hearts and gentle hands could do wasbestowed upon the suffering soldier, who as yet had not shown that hewas aware of what was going on about him.
The long day passed and the dreary night followed, but still Tom andMary cared for the sufferer. Captain Nealey was said to be improvingrapidly, but no change as yet had come in the condition of the younglieutenant.
It was the morning of the second day, and in the early light Tom hadgone out to the water-barrel again to bathe his face and hands. Hisheart was heavy, for apparently Lieutenant Gordon was worse, and allthe efforts of the lad and Mary had produced no improvement in hiscondition.
As Tom started to enter the house he halted upon the doorstep and lookedup the road. A heavy farm wagon drawn by two horses was approaching, andas it came nearer the lad suddenly started as he thought he recognizedthe team. Surely those were Benzeor Osburn's horses. A moment later hissuspicions were confirmed, and he knew that the lumbering wagon was hisfoster-father's.