The ledger. [volume] (Gaffney City, S.C.) 1896-1907, May 10, 1907, Image 2
■*‘r
HORSE-SHOE ROBINSON
A TALE OF THE TORY ASCENDENCY
BY
JOHN P. KENNEDY
CHAPTER XIX.
Horse Shoe's successful escape
from the hands of the Tories, it will
be conjectured, had been aj'ded by
Clopper. The seweant had suillcient-
lv assured himself of the present
safety of Butler, from the spirit with
which a strong txarty of Habershaw’s
followers had resisted the bloody
purpose of their leader before break
fast: and he had also, by the timely
reward secretly conveyed ft) Clopper.
received a pledge from that indivi
dual that the same protection should
still be accorded to the major, in the
event of his own extrication from the
gang by the Perilous exploit which
he then meditated. It is no doubt
apparent to the reader, that the fa
vor which saved the lives of the
prisoners was won from the captors
by the address of Robinson, and that
whatever good will was kindled up
amongst them, was appropriated
principally to the sergeant. Butler
having elicited but little considera
tion from the baud, beyond that in
terest which the roughest men are
- take in the fortunes of a young
and enterprising soldier. Neither
the major’s manners nor temper were
adapted to consulate any special re
gard from such natures.
The escape of the sergeant, there
fore. although it added nothing to
the perils of Butler’s situation, still
operated in some degree to his pre
sent inconvenience. It caused him to
be more rigorously guarded than be
fore, and consequently to be more
restricted in his personal comfort.
He was hurried forward at a rough
and uneasy pace: and both from
Habershaw and Curry, and those
more immediately of their party, he
experienced a surly indifference to
the pain that this occasioned him.
They seemed to have no regard
either to his wants or feelings, and
in the passing remarks that fell from
them he could gather harsh surmises
as to the manner in which he was
now likely to he disposed of.
•“It is their own fault,” said one of
them to his companion, as Butler
overheard the conversation: “if every
prisoner is strung up and shot now-a
dav. He makes no more of hanging
our people than so many wolves:
and there was Captain Hack—will
any man say that Sumpter hand’t
him murder 0 1 in cold blood?”
“Yes,” added the other, “let a Tory
be caught over yonder amongst the
Iredell Whigs, on t'other side of the
line, or In Trvon. or down here at
the Waxhaws, why. a grey fox in a
barn yard with forty dogs would
have as good a chance for his life.
So. for my share. 1 am glad to see
our folks break up that blasted breed,
root and branch.”
“Innis has got as keen a nos« for
a Whig as a blood-hound.” said the
first speaker, “and won’t stop long
to consider what’s right to bo done,
if he gets this chap in his clutches:
so it is of no great account that we
didn’t make short work of it this
morning.”
Such remarks produced a gloomy
effect upon Butler’s mind. Ho had
witnessed enough in the scene of
the morning, to convince him t.hrt
Habershaw^ had been employed to
waylay him and take his life, and
that the latter purpose had onlv fail
ed bv the lucky conjuncture of cir
cumstances which led to the mutiny.
He w'as aware, too. that Curry was
the prime conductor of the scheme,
and drove matters, by a secret in
fluence. as far as he could towards
its accomplishment, whilst with a
professional hardihood and most hy
pocritical hearing he affected to be
indifferent to the issue. This fellow s
malice was the more venomous from
his address, and the gay. swaggering,
remorseless levity with which he
could mask the most atrocious de
signs: nothing could baffle his equa
nimity: and he seemed to be provid
ed. at all times, with a present expe
dient to meet the emergency of his
condition.
The most perplexing feature in
this man’s present position was his
recent connection with Tyrrell a
fact that recurred to Butler with
many alarming doubts. All the other
circumstances accompanying Butler’s
condition, at this moment, were sub
jects of distressful uncertainty. Ig
norant of the place to wiiich he was
to be disposed of, he could only anti
cipated the worst. It was obvious
that his Journey was an expected
on?, and that the gang who held him
were employed by persons in au
thority. set on. no doubt, by the
agency of Tyrrol: but where was he
I —and who was he?—and what in-
| fluence could ho bring to bear against
his, Butler’s life, now that he bad
failed in bis bloody purpose of lying
in wait; and that it. was resolved bv
these rufflns. who had in part only
obeyed his behests, to deliver their
prisoner up to the regular authorities
e f the British army? The mention
of the name of Innis by one of the
troopers was not calculated to allay
his inquietude. This person ho knew
have been an active confederate
and eager adviser of tho new court,
lately established at Charleston, to
promote the confiscation of the es
tates of the inhabitants of Carolina
disaffected to the royal cause. He
was. besides, a zealous Tory par
tisan. and. having lately Joined the
army, was now in command of a de
tachment of loyalists on the Enoree.
Then, again, there was abundant
cause of anxiety to the unfortunate
officer in the question whether Rob-
insor could be kept acquainted with
bis condition, or even of the placet©
which he might be removed—and if
acquainted with these particulars,
whether, in the disturbed state of the
country, he could render any service.
These thoughts all contributed to sink
his spirits.
Notwithstanding the usual assum
ed levity of Curry, lie had now be
come resentful towards Butbr. and
did not give himself the tronihl'* to
conceal it. His manner was quick
and unaccommodating, showing his
vexation at his own want of sagacity,
inferred by the successful flight of
Robinsmn Expressions occasionally
escaped him that indicated a self-
roproof on this subject? though thev
were partially disguised bv an affect
ed undervaluing of the importance of
having such a prisoner, so long as he
retained the custody of the principal
object of the enterprise. But the
consciousness of being again baffled
by a man who had once before obtain
ed the mastery over him. roused his
prid > into the exhibition of a pee
vish and vindictive demeanor. In
this temper he seconded the brutal
disposition of Habershaw*. and aban
doned the captive officer to the
coarse insults of those who exercis
ed control over him. There was
some mitigation to this annoyance,
in the reserved and partial spirit in
which the insurgent party of the
squad manifested some slight signs
of good will towards him. An in
stance of this spirit was afforded in
a passing hint conveyed by Clopper.
on one occasion when the troop had
halted to water their horses. “What
ever is to come of it. after we give
you up to other hands.” ho said to
Butler, “we will stick to the ground
we have taken, that no harm shall
be done to vou in our keeping.”
The day was intensely hot. and the
road, oyer which the party traveled, rug
ger and fatiguing: it was. therefore,
near one o’clock when they came dn
sight of the Tiger, a rough, bold, im
petuous stream that rushed over an
almost unbroken bed of rocks. On
the opposite bank was Blackstocks,
a rude hamlet of some two or three
houses, scattered over a rugged hill
side—a place subsequently rendered
famous by the gallant repulse of
Tarleton by Sumpter. The troop
struck Into a narrow ford and.
with some scrambling amongst the
rocks, succeeded in crossin the
stream; they then galloped rapidl' 1 *
up the hill, towards a farm house
which seemed to be the principal
place of resort for the people of the
neighborhood. The approach of the
party of cavalry drew to the door a
bevy of women, children, and ne
groes. who stood idly gaping at the
spectacle: and. in addition to these,
a detachment of militia, consisting
of between twenty and thirty men.
were seen to turn out and form a
line in front of the house. Haber
shaw, with an air of magnified impor
tance. halted opposite this detach
ment. gave a few prompt orders to
Curry in regard to the disposition of
the troop, and in an authoritative
tone of command, ordered the officer
of the militid to detail a guard for
the safe keeping of a prisoner of
state. Tho personage addressed—
a tall, ungainly, and awkward subal
tern—signified liis acquiescence with
a bow. and awkward subaltern—sig
nified bis acquiescence with a bow.
and immediately took itossesion of
Butler by seizing the rein of his
horse and leading him to one side,
where two men. armed with rifles,
pliiced themselves at either stirrup.
Habershaw now directed bis men to
alight, aecompanvnlng the order with
a caution that the prisoner was not
to be allowed to enter the house.
“The <1—d rascal.” ho aduetj, “shall
not plav the trick of his rebel asso
ciate: no more privilege of going in
to barrooms, and lounging about
doors! See the man stowed away in
the barn: and tell the sentinels never
to take their eves off of him—do you
hear, lieutenant?”
“You may depend upon my look
out.” replied the lieutenant, with a
nourish of a hacked and rusty sword.
“Hen. march your prisoner straight
to the barn. Have a relief. Corporal,
every two hours, and towards night,
set four on the watch at a time.”
“Look to it. Lieutenant!” shouted
Habershaw. “No words sir: do your
duty!”
And having thus given vent to his
own high opinion of himself, the
bulky captain withdrew into the
house.
Butler was now marched into a
large log barn, in one corner of which
an armful of fodder, or dried blades
of Indian corn, were shaken out for
his bed: and this, he was told, was
to he his prison until other orders
awaited him. Tho guard, consisting
of two sentinels, were stationed on
the inner side of the door, having
the prisoner immediately under their
eye: and. this disposition being com
pleted. the officer commanding the
detachment retired to mingle with
the troopers in the farm house.
Half an hour had scarcely elapsed
after the arrival of the troopers at
Blackstocks. before James Curry had
refreshed himself with a hasty meal,
and had his horse brought to the
door. He seemed bound upon some
urgent mission.
“Captain St. Jermyn. you sav, left
this at sunrise this morning?” said
the dragoon, addressing th? lieuten
ant of the militia.
“He did. Ho was here all day yes
terday. and thought he should hear
from you last night.”
“What route did he take?”
“To Turnbull, at Ninenty-Six.”
“Is Turnbull there now, think
you ?’’
“He is.” replied the lieutenant.
“They sav orders have gone up from
Cornwallis to the post for four light
companies, and it is expected that
Captain Campbell is now on Ms way
with them towards Camden: neither
Turnbull nor Cruger would leave
the post.”
“I have heard that this corps was
marching to headquarters. Are you
sure St. Jermyn is not with Camp
bell?”
“Ho said nothing about it yester
day. but 1 think he wishes to Join
Colonel Innis with the loyalist caval
ry.”
“Where is Innis?” inquired Curry.
“Over on Enoree. about two miles
from Musgrove’s mill.”
“Hump!” said Curry, thoughtfully.
“I must ride to the garrison at Nine
ty-Six. The devil take this cantering
about the country! I have had more
than enough of it.”
And saying this, the dragoon
mounted his horse, and clapping
spurs the restive animal, was soon
out of sight.
It was late in the day before the
wants of Butler were attended to.
He had thrown aside his coat, from
the oppressive heat of the weather,
and. placing it under his head for a
pillow, had fallen into a sleep, from
which he was awakened by a sum
mons from one of the sentinels to
partake of food. There was more
kidness apparent in the demeanor of
the soldier than Butler had been ac
customed to meet from the persons
who held hint captive, and this cir
cumstance won upon his heart and
induced him to accent with curtesy
the proffered attentions.
“You live in a divided country, and
witness much to make a good man
wish this unhappy war was at an
end.” said Butler, after he had eatet
of the provisions placed before him.
“Indeed we do. sir.” replied the
soldier, “and it is enough to make a
man’s heart bleed to s-e brothers
fighting against each other, and kind
red that ought to hold together seek
ing each other’s lives. Men will
have, and ought to have their opin
ions. sir: but it. is hardly goo/J reason
for treating one another like savage
^S'
&
/
This man bought a supply of tobacco with
out acquainting himself with the distinctive taste
of SCHNAPPS Tobacco, which has the cheering
qualities that gratify his desire to chew, and at
less expense than cheap tobacco.
SCHNAPPS has been advertised in this
paper so that every chewer has had an
opportunity to get acquainted with the
facts and know that drugs are not used
to produce the cheering quality found in
the famous Piedmont country flue-cured
tobaccos, and that SCHNAPPS is what he
ought to chew. Still there are chewers
who accept other and cheaper tobaccos
that do not give the same pleasure.
Some day they’ll get a taste of the real
Schnapps—they’ll realize what enjoyment
they’ve missed by not getting SCHNAPPS
long ago—then they’ll feel like kicking
themselves.
SCHNAPPS is sold everywhere in 5
cent cuts, and 10 and 15 cent plugs. Be
sure you get the genuine.
The new Laxative
that does not gripe
or nauseate.
Pleasant to taKe.
F«r Sale by Cnerokee Drug Co.
R
Laxative Fruit Syrup
Fer Sale bv Cherokee Drug Ce.
Cures
Stomach and Liver
trouble and
Chronic Constipation.
For Sale bv Cherokee Drug Cr>.
Indians, because all cannot think
alike.”
“Do you live in this neighborhood?”
immir d Butler.
“Not far away,” answered the man.
“You are married?”
“Yes. and havo six children.”
“They should be young.” said But-
1 t. “Judging by your own age.”
“Thank Ood. sir!” exclaimed the
soldier, with favor, “they are young!
And I would pray that they may nev
er live to be old if these wars are to
last. No father can count upon his
own child’s living in harmony with
him. My boys, if they were grown
enough, might be the first I should
meet in battle.”
“Your name, friend ” said Butler.
“Bruce,” replied the other.
“A good and a brave name; a name
once friendly to tho liberty of his
country.”
“Stop, sir!” said tho sentinel.
“This is not the place to talk upon
questions that might make us angry
with each other. It is a name still
friendly to tho liberty of his country;
that liberty that supports tho king
and laws, and punishes treason.’
“I cannot debate with you.” replied
Butler: “I am your prisoner.”
“I am a man.” said the soldier,
firmly, “and would not take advan
tage of him that cannot take his own
part: but these questions, sir, are best
dropped—they havo made all the pro
vinces mad. However. I do not, blame
you. sir: I will - not deny that there
are good men on vour side.”
“And on yours, doubtless.” return
'd Butler.
“We have many bad ones, sir.” re
turned tho soldier: “and as you have
spoken like a well-tempered gentie
man to me. I will give you a friendly
hint.” Hero the sentinel spoke in a
lower tone. “Have your eyes about
you: these men are none of the best,
and would think hut little of taking
from you anything of value. As you
slept. Just now. I saw a golden trink
et hanging by a ribbon in you bosom.
; You are a young man, sir. and a sold-
j ier. I hear: this may be some present
from your lady, as I guess you have
one. If others had seen it. as I saw
it. you might have been tlj_e loser.
That’s all.”
“Thank you, honest friend! from
my heart. I thank you!” replied But
ler eagerly. “Oh, God! that bauble
i is a consolation to me that in this
hour I would not part with—no, no!
Thank you. friend, a thousand times!”
“Havo done.” said the soldier,
“and in future be more careful. The
relief is coming this way.”
And the sentinel, taking up his
j rifle, repaired to his post. In a few
I moments tho guard was changed, and
those lately on duty were marched
to the dwelling-house.
When night came on the immediate
guard around Butler’s person was
doubled. Some few comforts were
added to his forlorn prison by the
kindness of the soldier Bruce, and he
was left to pass the weary hours of
darkness in communion with his own
thoughts, or in the enjoyment of such
repose as his unhappy state of thral
dom allowed. If the agitation of his
spirit had permitted sleep, there were
but few moments of the night when
it might have been indulged. The
I outbursts of revelry, the loud and
boisterous laugh, and still louder
oaths of the party who occupied the
dwelling-house near at hand, showed
that thev had plunged into their us
ual debauch, and now caroused over
their frequently filled cups: and the
clamor that broke upon the night
might have battled the slumbers of a
mind less anxious and w*akeful than
his own.
The party of troopers and millitia
sat at the door to take advantage of
the coolness of the night, and as they
plied tho busy flagon, and with heavy
draught grew more noisy, scarce a
word fell from their lips that was not
distinctly heard by Butler. It was
with intense interest, therefore, that
he listened to the conversation when
it led to a topic that greatly concern
ed himself: and that he might not
alarm the suspicion of the speakers
he affected sleep.
“Sumpter has been hovering about
Ninety-Six,” said the lieutenant: “and
if one could believe all the stories
that are told about him, he must be
a full cousin at least to a certain per
son that it wouldn’t be right to men
tion in respectable company: for. by
the accounts, he is one day on the
Wateree, and the next, whoop and
away!—and there he is. almost over
at Augusta. It seem almost past the
power of human legs for a mortal
man to make such strides as they tell
of him.”
“Who says Sumpter is near Ninety-
Six?” inquired one of the party. “I
can only say. if that’s true, he is a
ghost—that’s all. Here’s Harry Turn
er will swear that he saw him. day
before yesterday, in North Carolina. *
on his march towards Burk.”
“ Indeed did I ” responded Harry,
one of the millitia-men.
“There is no mistake alxmt it.” in
terposed the lieutenant. “A yjdette
of Brown’s came scampering through
here this morning, who reported the
news: and the man had good right
to know*, for he saw Cruger yester
day. who told him all about it, and
then sent him off to Wahab’s planta
tion. near the Catawba fords, for
Hanger’s rangers. It was on his way
back this morning that he stopped
here five minutes, only to give us
warning?”
“This is only gome story that your
drunken head has been dreaming
about. Gabriel.” said Habershaw.
“There is not a word of truth in it:
the rangers went down to Camden
three days ago. Who saw the vidette
besides yourself?"
“The whole detachment,” replied
the lieutenant. “We talk-ed to the
man and had the story from him—
(Continued on page 6J
IT WILL BE
• <• ■ »,,♦»;*' v “:
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