"What book would you especially like, Rodney?"

"May I have 'Josephus?' I began that down at the old home but father loaned it, and the borrower never brought it back."

"Which a.s.sures me I'm perfectly safe in loaning to you. Yes, here's 'Josephus.' It's well to know history, especially these days when very important history is in the making."

When Rodney mounted his horse, Mr. Jefferson stood stroking the animal's nose, for he ever admired a fine horse, and he said: "If worse comes to worst this colt would help pay off the mortgage, and, should you decide to sell him, I would like to have a chance to buy him;" then, seeing that the lad's face had become very serious, he quickly added: "but there won't be any need of that yet awhile. By the way, why did you give him the name, 'Nat?'"

"I named him after Nathaniel Bacon. Father says he'd rather have had Bacon's fate and reputation than Lord Berkeley's."

"Berkeley didn't believe in encouraging boys in Virginia to read books, so he and I wouldn't have agreed," and as the boy rode away he said to himself, "and the Berkeleys in this generation think the good English blood of these colonies can be ruled like serfs!"

As for Rodney, the brightness somehow seemed to have departed from the bright day which had held such promise. His mind had been full of the importance and pleasure of his visit. Now, he could only think, "Must I sell Nat?" It had never occurred to him until suggested by Mr.

Jefferson. Was it his duty to part with the colt? Well, if necessary he would do it, "But first I'll work my fingers off, Nat," and he patted the glossy, arching neck while Nat champed impatiently at the bit.

By the time they reached the cabin, the boy had recovered much of his cheerfulness, and entertained his father with a glowing account of his visit.

David Allison was busily engaged in cleaning the old rifle he had carried through the French and Indian war. It was apparent that he had not put away altogether his desire to join Clark's company.

When Rodney told of Mr. Jefferson's offer to give him work, his father, turning to his wife, said, "Harriet, I think I should go."

For some minutes nothing was said. Rodney noted the shadow on his mother's face. Finally she replied, "It does seem that the hand of Providence is shaping matters," and both father and son knew that the struggle was past; she would spare no effort to a.s.sist in her husband's departure.

The thought of what the wives and mothers endured, in the work of winning this mighty land, ought to bring the blush of shame to the face of every son of woman who does aught to sully its fair fame!

One week later David Allison left for the land "over the mountains,"

and disappeared into the great forest, which swallowed him as a huge cave the one who explores it. Both wife and son noticed that he did not seem bent and old as he had of late. He was the brave soldier going forth to battle again.

Before he left he arranged, if all went well and another party the following year should leave for the West to join them, that Rodney might go with them.

The next day the boy began his work at Monticello, but saw little of his employer, who was a very busy man. Though but twenty-nine years old, Jefferson was a leader in the colonial legislature, the House of Burgesses. He had been first among those who pledged themselves not to buy imports from England, he favoured better schools, and was known to admire the methods of government in New England, especially the town meetings.

These were not held in Virginia. There, the control of parish affairs was kept in the hands of a few leading families, and the large estates were handed down to the eldest son, and so kept entire; whereas, in New England property was divided among the children. This, Jefferson was trying to have changed, and consequently incurred the ill will of those who preferred the existing methods and laws.

The summer pa.s.sed quickly with Rodney. The crops were scanty and his earnings meagre but enough to warrant his hope that it would be possible for him to join his father the following spring.

Angus was a frequent visitor at the Allison home. He was generous, impulsive and rough, and had not many home advantages, but his friendship for Rodney never wavered. Like all the boys, he disliked Denham, who was a fat little man with a greasy smile and eyes like a pig's. He was said to be a miser, and a cheat, and a coward, which, in the eyes of the boys, was an unforgivable weakness.

One night Rodney and Angus had been over to a quilting party at the Dawsons', or rather to the frolic which followed the quilting. There had been dancing to such music as the squeaky fiddle of Ander Byram could afford, also refreshments, in which a big ham and a roast of venison were two prominent features. The boys left early, Rodney because he had to rise by five o'clock the next morning, and Angus because he had quarrelled with Betty Saunders. They came out into the crisp December air singing, "Polly put the kettle on, we'll all take tea."

Rodney, being in a confidential mood, told his companion of his plans for joining his father in the spring, and then said: "Angus, I should feel a lot better about leaving mother if I knew there was some one like you to help her out of any trouble that might come up. She might be sick, you know, and old Denham might try to cheat her in some way."

"I'll shake hands on that, Rod. Don't you worry. Jimminy Jewsharp! but I wish I was goin' too."

CHAPTER V

A PLUNGE INTO THE FOREST

March fifteenth, 1773, Rodney Allison set out with a party of five men who were leaving to join Clark's party on the Ohio.

The task would be somewhat like finding the needle in the haystack, perhaps, but all were confident and went away in high spirits.

Mrs. Allison smiled bravely and Naomi called after him, "You bring back a little bear for me to play with," whereat they all laughed, but the laughter was very near tears. Indeed Mam threw her ap.r.o.n over her head and fled to the cook-house.

"You don't want ter look so blue, Rod," cried Angus, coming into the yard. "I only wish I was goin' along. Alec Stephens' father says thar's prairies out thar where buffalo hev wallered great traces through the gra.s.s, thet's higher'n yer head, an' the deer an' elk are thicker'n skeeters in the swamp. He 'lows as how them as gits the land will sure beat the tide-water gentry on ther home stretch."

Thus encouraged the boy turned his face westward. There were two pack horses in the party and they were heavily laden. The journey to the river was without special incident. Many were going over the trail, and scarcely a day pa.s.sed that they did not fall in with others. On arrival at the river the horses were left and the goods were loaded into canoes.

It was April and the great stream was filled to its banks. At the start Rodney felt as though he were paddling their frail craft out to sea toward an unknown sh.o.r.e. There was something sullen and irresistible in the might of that dark, swollen river, and the craft was swept along like a twig on the great waters.

The red buds were showing on the trees, a sign of hope, thought the boy. On his calling attention to them one of the men remarked: "They ain't the only red thing that's out. We want to be on the lookout, fer the word from the posts is thet the redskins are gittin' sa.s.sy."

The third day Dominick Ferguson was Rodney's partner in the canoe. He was a vigilant and powerful man, speaking a rich brogue, and when he laughed all who heard him laughed with him. He had lived in this country for twenty years, coming here as a soldier, and had pa.s.sed much of that time on the frontier. It appeared that he was a man of some education as well as valuable experience.

"I'm of the opeenion," he remarked, "that there'll be doin's out i'

this country ere long. Virginny'll not yield her claims to the country wi'out speerin' the why, an' Pennsylvania Dutchmen will cling to what they ha' like dogs to a root. I've noticed aboot half the parties we've met are from that colony."

"Do you think there will be fighting?"

"Will there be fightin' at Donnybrook fair, do ye ask? Sure there will be fightin', an' while the two white clans are tryin' to eat each the ither, the red devils will be lookin' for a mouthful, I'm thinkin'."

"You talk as though 'twould have been better for us never to have left Virginia."

"I'm not sure but 'twould ha' been, but nothin' venture nothin' have is a sayin' as true now as iver. You don't want to turn back?"

"I surely do not."

"That's the Scotch in ye; an' 'twould ha' been the like if 'twere Irish. Now I ha' the advantage o' gittin' it both sides. Me mother's eyes were as blue as any colleen's in all Leinster, while the father o' me was from Argyll, which is sayin' muckle. The one was papist an'

the father a Presbyterian. When they tell ye oil an' water'll not mix, look at me."

"I've heard they don't ask a man about his religion out in this country."

"Right, lad, but a mon ha' need o' all his religion, I'm thinkin'."

"Well, as for me, mother is of the established church an' father is a Dissenter."

"Either'll do an' the both ought. It'll be no fault of our forebears if we ha' not religion in plenty, an' some o' the gude as should gang wi' it."

Rodney thought of the morning prayers at home, his father kneeling by the old splint-bottomed chair. Tears came to his eyes, he knew not why, for was he not soon to see his father and were they not to prosper and go back in the fall for his mother and sister? Yet he looked out on the swirling water as through a mist.

"One of the men said you had seen long service as a soldier in the king's army, Mr. Ferguson."

"That's how I came to this country, an' when I laid by me red coat I thought this a bonny place to bide in. I got me a good team an' was makin' a tidy bit cartin' supplies ower the mountains when the war broke oot. I drove me team with Braddock's army an' afterward joined the militia."

"Father was a soldier under Braddock. I've heard him tell how brave some of the teamsters were in the midst of the panic and how cowardly were some of the others."