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Communities of Practice An Alaskan Native Model for
Language Teaching and Learning 1st Edition Patrick E.
Marlow Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Patrick E. Marlow; Sabine Siekmann
ISBN(s): 9780816599868, 0816599866
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 1.06 MB
Year: 2013
Language: english
communities of practice
Communities of Practice
18 17 16 15 14 13 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Acknowledgments vii
Prologue: Community of Practice ix
Introduction 1
patrick e. marlow, marliee coles-ritchie, sabine siekmann,
and joan parker webster
1 SLATE Context and History 6
patrick e. marlow and sabine siekmann
2 Mentoring: Engaging Communities of Practice 27
joan parker webster and sabine siekmann
3 Reinventing Technology: Computers as Tools for Coconstructing
the Local Voice in Materials Development 51
sabine siekmann and hishinlai’ “kathy r. sikorski”
4 On Becoming a “Literate” Person: Meaning Making with
Multiliteracies and Multimodal Tools 73
joan parker webster and theresa arevgaq john
5 Teachers Drawing on the Power of Place to Indigenize
Assessment 101
marilee coles-ritchie and walkie charles
6 Ellangluni: Power, Awareness, and Agency in Language
Planning 119
patrick e. marlow and april g. l. counceller
7 Conversations 136
patrick e. marlow, marilee coles-ritchie, sabine siekmann,
and joan parker webster
vi • Contents
Epilogue 157
References 161
About the Editors 171
About the Contributors 173
Index 177
Acknowledgments
vii
Prologue
Community of Practice
The idea for the book, its focus, and structure came out of countless dis-
cussions among the Second Language Acquisition Teacher Education
(SLATE)faculty: Marilee Coles-Ritchie, Patrick E. Marlow, Sabine Siek-
mann, and Joan Parker Webster. The various chapters developed out of
discussions and collaborations among the faculty as well as between the
faculty and doctoral candidates Walkie Charles, April G. L. Counceller,
Theresa Arevgaq John, and Hishinlai’ “Kathy R. Sikorski.”
From the beginning of this project, the faculty set out to engage the
SLATE students in ways that would deepen their understanding of second
language acquisition and teaching and prepare them for leadership roles
in both Yup’ik and English-language programming within their own K–12
or university context. As we hope this volume can attest, the direction of
the engagement, the deepening of the understanding, and with it the
sense of responsibility to act, was not something that only the students ex-
perienced.
One SLATE graduate, Atan (Veronica Michael), concluded her thesis
by honoring her grandfather with the words “I hope I have told a good
enough story” (Michael 2010, p. 89). Atan invoked the traditional roles of
storyteller and active listener. As the storyteller, the writer of her thesis, she
hoped she had done her grandparents honor by sharing accurately and
compassionately her own story and that of her ancestors, her community,
and her research participants, two Yugtun-speaking mothers struggling to
ix
x • Prologue
keep the Yugtun language and culture alive within their own families. She
also hoped that she had told a story that, like the ones her grandfather told,
would be worthy of her many audiences and help them better understand
their own situations. Like Atan, we, too, hope we have told a good enough
story.
communities of practice
Introduction
Patrick E. Marlow, Marilee Coles-Ritchie,
Sabine Siekmann, and Joan Parker Webster
1
2 • Marlow, Coles-Ritchie, Siekmann, and Webster
child). We also use the phrase to refer to the work of Lev Vygotsky and
theorists and researchers engaged in applied linguistics research (e.g., Ap-
pel & Lantolf 1994; Lantolf 2000; Lantolf & Thorne 2006; Swain 2000;
Thorne 2005). As such, sociocultural theory is also a framework that fo-
cuses on how culturally formed and socially enacted meanings influence
the development of mental activity.
By “critical pedagogy,” we refer to the interactive relationship between
teaching and learning and theory and practice, termed praxis, developed
by Paolo Freire (2000 [1968]). This relationship reflects a transformative
process that can help us challenge and reflect on our long-held assump-
tions about what we view as the status quo. Thus, this active transforma-
tive process can help us question our theories about and practices in the
world and act on them. Drawing from the work of Antonia Darder, Joe
Kincheloe, Peter McLaren, bell hooks, and others, we further construct
our own critical pedagogy that underlies the theory and practices devel-
oped in this book. Our theory and practices are based on these principles:
Comment on Usage
In Chapter 1, we briefly describe the Central Yup’ik context and the evo-
lution of the SLATE program. Within this evolution, we discuss partici-
pant recruitment, as well as our approach to research and course content.
The discussion of research includes an overview of the Graduate Research
Collaboratives (GRCs), a central design element in the SLATE project.
Finally, we introduce the teachers who were the primary participants in
this project.
Chapter 2 extends the concept of the GRC model by focusing on the
aspect of mentoring. The chapter uses data highlighting the students’ ex-
periences as teachers/learners and mentors.
Chapters 3 through 6 focus on the classes taught during the 2008 in-
tensive summer session. In Chapter 3, Sabine Siekmann and Hishinlai’
“Kathy R. Sikorski” discuss the curriculum and materials development
course. In Chapter 4, Joan Parker Webster and Theresa Arevgaq John dis-
cuss their multiliteracies course. In Chapter 5, Marilee Coles-Ritchie and
Walkie Charles discuss the course on assessment. Finally, in Chapter 6,
Introduction • 5
Notes
1. We use Wilson’s (2008, p. 34) meaning for the term Indigenous languages,
which refers to the languages of people who claim ancestry from the original inhabit-
ants of a country or territory.
2. We use the term heritage language to refer to a language spoken or formerly
spoken in the home environment or familial context that differs from the surrounding
dominant language.
cha p te r o n e
Linguistic Context
6
Figure 1.1. Alaska Native languages (source: http://www.uaf.edu/anlc/)
8 • Marlow and Siekmann
Figure 1.2. Dialects of Central Alaskan Yup’ik (adapted from Jacobson 1998, p. xiii)
SLATE Context and History • 9
Recruitment
Program partners jointly established a recruitment process that included
both an academic and a community evaluation of potential candidates.
This dual-evaluation approach was guided by experience that told us reli-
ance on only one measure would likely result in teachers dropping out of
the program either because they were not academically strong enough or
because they did not have the drive and community support necessary to
stick with a challenging program. Therefore, the application process re-
quired potential students to provide a statement of personal and profes-
sional goals, three letters of reference (a community letter, a job letter, and
an academic letter), and full academic transcripts. Faculty reviewed tran-
scripts, personal statements, and letters for evidence that the student could
succeed in an academic program. Partner representatives looked primar-
ily at the letters of reference and personal statement to assess the person’s
commitment to language teaching within the community and the likeli-
hood that the person would (on completion of the program) contribute in
meaningful ways to the ongoing development of local language program-
ming. Faculty and community recommendations were given equal weight
in the final selection process. Reflecting on this process, we find it clear
that this collaboration between university faculty, school representatives,
and community members was crucial to ensuring individual student suc-
cess and ultimately the overall success of the SLATE program.
Content
The program requirements are similar to existing applied linguistics/
Teachers of English as a Second or Other Language (TESOL) programs
throughout the nation. The SLATE program was designed to meet the spe-
12 • Marlow and Siekmann
We held the first summer intensive in July 2007. Because this was the
first summer for teachers in the program, coursework focused on intro-
ducing them to the field of second language acquisition and the range of
research methods they were likely to employ. To facilitate the develop-
ment of research questions and begin defining methodologies, a poster
session was held at the end of the summer intensive. Simulating a poster
session typical of many research conferences, each teacher prepared and
presented a poster illustrating her initial proposal for the intended re-
search project.
The following fall, the teachers enrolled in one research credit and a
general overview of linguistic analysis. The research credit provided fac-
ulty with a way to formalize weekly GRC meetings and, through those
meetings, assist the teachers in defining their research agendas. The fol-
lowing spring the pattern was repeated, and all teachers enrolled in one
research credit as well as a course in second language teaching methods.
To foster a sense of a Yup’ik language teacher cohort, and to allow for col-
laborative dialogue in the Yup’ik language among them, the teaching
methods course was split into two sections, one for Yup’ik language teach-
ers and one for English language teachers.
By summer 2008, the teachers had defined their research through a
formal proposal, and many had begun data collection. Our goal for the
summer intensive was to help the teachers focus their research and de-
velop additional expertise in their research area. We divided the teachers
into two cohorts and enrolled each cohort in coursework specific to their
GRCs. Cohort 1 included the eleven teachers participating in either the
Pedagogy or Multiliteracies GRC. Teachers in cohort 1 took a curriculum
and materials development and a multiliteracies course. Cohort 2 in-
cluded the seven teachers participating in either the Assessment or Lan-
guage Policy and Planning GRC. Teachers in cohort 2 took an assessment
and a language policy and planning course. A more detailed description
of these cohorts is given later. Because of the success of the previous year’s
poster session, we organized a student miniconference for the last day of
the 2008 summer intensive and invited faculty, administrators, and stu-
dents from across the university. Students presented their work in a variety
of formats, including posters, multimedia presentations, and portfolios.
In fall 2008, the teachers took the eighth and final content course re-
quired for their degree. Cohort 1 enrolled in a language assessment
course, and Cohort 2 enrolled in a curriculum and materials develop-
ment course. Originally, we had hoped for both cohorts to complete all
the available courses. However, this would have added an additional three
SLATE Context and History • 15
As noted earlier, the goal for the summer 2008 intensive was to help the
teachers focus their research and develop additional expertise in their re-
search area.
Cohort 1
Cohort 1, which consisted of teachers in the Pedagogy and Multiliteracies
GRCs, included nine Yup’ik and two non-Native MA/MEd candidates.
Seven were Yup’ik first-language speakers, and two were monolingual
English speakers. At the time, five were teaching in English-medium
schools and four in Yup’ik-medium schools; two were teaching Yup’ik as a
second language.
racy. Using song, another type of story, she focused student attention on
the form of the second-person genitive endings in Yup’ik. Students in her
class learned songs and then composed their own songs with the structures
under investigation. This second step pushed the students to produce out-
put and create their own meanings through the language. Using a pretest/
posttest design, Oulton found improvement in correct uses of the genitive
endings that were targeted in the songs, but not in those that were not
targeted (Oulton 2010).
When Sheila Wallace applied for the program, she was determined to
develop a high school Yup’ik course for students who graduated from the
K–6 immersion school in Bethel. These students had not had any Yup’ik
language instruction since sixth grade and had begun to show signs of re-
duced proficiency and accuracy. This pattern reflected her own experi-
ence attending Bethel Regional High School years before:
to tell their stories. Her project is based on the stories told by the parents
(Holmberg 2010).
mu ltiliterac ie s. Emily Vanderpool received her BAS in educa-
tion from Western Oregon University in 2002 and began working in the
Yup’ik region the following fall. She wrote in her letter of application: “I
came to Alaska from Oregon after graduating college in 2002, and was
looking for an adventurous place to start my teaching career. What I found
was so much more exciting than I ever imagined. My first year in rural
Alaska I found myself immersed in a new world, a new culture, and a new
community of the warmest, kindest people I have ever met. . . . It didn’t
take long for me to realize that what had started as an adventure turned
into a new lifestyle.”
Vanderpool’s primary objective in joining the SLATE program was to
help her rural Alaskan students become fluent English readers and writ-
ers. She developed an approach combining the concept of literature cir-
cles2 (Daniels 1994, 2001) with the new social networking and Web 2.0
learning tools, such as blogs and podcasts, that students use in their every-
day lives (Vanderpool 2010).
Erin Kavanaugh received her BA in English and secondary education
from the University of Wisconsin, Platteville, in 2003. She had been work-
ing in the Yup’ik region for two years when she joined the SLATE pro-
gram. In her application letter, she wrote: “Since I have been employed
with the Lower Kuskokwim School District I have become much more
aware and involved in language work. I am currently teaching reading,
writing and English Language Development to students in grades 6–12.
All of my students have Limited English Proficiency status. Up until a
year ago, my experience working with nonnative speakers of English was
limited.”
Kavanaugh’s MA project developed a new type of writing instruction
that combined writing workshop (Calkins 1994) and Six+1 Traits writing
instruction approach3 with Web 2.0 tools (Kavanaugh 2010).
Sally Samson is a K–1 teacher at Ayaprun Elitnaurvik Immersion
School in Bethel. When she joined the SLATE program, she had been
teaching at the immersion school for nine years. She explained that when
she began teaching, she “knew nothing” about teaching Yugtun to Eng-
lish-only speakers, and she “knew nothing about five-year-olds and their
learning habits.” Her goal was to provide future teachers with materials
that would help them so that they would “not start out like I did: lost and
not knowing where to begin.” Like all the teachers, before joining SLATE
Samson often experimented in her classroom: “Ever since I started teach-
20 • Marlow and Siekmann
with its role in their education. I know that language acquisition is an on-
going process and the more it is practiced, the better each child is in ac-
quiring the skills necessary to communicate and read literature” (letter of
application).
Pitka’s research led to the development of a hands-on, multiliteracies
learning center approach that incorporated culturally based stories and
in- and out-of-classroom subsistence-based activities (e.g., berry picking,
fishing) and field-based listening and drawing activities that took place in
the village and on the river (e.g., sketch and sound journals) (Pitka 2010).
Joanne Sundown has a passion for multiculturalism. Before joining
SLATE, she introduced the second-graders in her home village, Scam-
mon Bay, to a diverse world: “This year I have begun to use [a thematic
unit on diversity]. My overarching theme is that through the studies of all
the continents and many different cultures of the world students begin to
appreciate and value their own. I teach 2nd grade at Scammon Bay
School. We have explored 6 out of 7 continents. Some of the countries
we have studied include India, England, Brazil, Morocco, Egypt, Mali,
and we are now beginning to study Australia” (letter of application).
Building on her passion, Sundown developed thematic units using mul-
ticultural literature to explore how learning about other cultures could
contribute to a deeper understanding and respect of one’s own (Sun-
down 2010).
Cohort 2
Cohort 2, which consisted of teachers in the Assessment or Language Pol-
icy and Planning GRCs, included six Yup’ik and one non-Native MA/
MEd candidate. Three were Yup’ik first-language speakers, two had re-
learned Yup’ik as adults, and two were monolingual English speakers. At
the time, four were teaching through the medium of English, two were
teaching Yup’ik in immersion schools, and one was employed as a Yup’ik
specialist in her district’s Office of Curriculum and Instruction.
When Renee Green joined the SLATE program, she was working as a
first/second-grade immersion teacher in the Yup’ik immersion program in
her home village, Hooper Bay. Even though Green was not a fluent
speaker of Yup’ik, she joined the Hooper Bay immersion program right
after receiving her teacher certification in 2004, as she explained in her
letter of application: “It is now 2007 and I have come a long way. For the
early part of my career, I worked with three wonderful ladies who helped
me to learn about my language and culture. In my first year, I worked with
Juliana Springer and Laura Joseph (our aide). Together we cotaught 21
children. We did it in Yup’ik. The next year, I worked with Mary Anne
Nukusuk and again with Laura Joseph. This time we worked with 26 chil-
dren. Again we taught in Yup’ik. Those two years were the most challeng-
ing. Not only was I a teacher, I was also a learner.”
Green’s research drew on the knowledge and experiences of the Yup’ik
teachers who taught in the immersion program at her school. Using focus
groups, interviews, classroom observations, and field notes, her goal was to
inform the whole school community about the needs of the Indigenous
language program based on information from insiders in the community.
The primary insiders included teachers who taught at the school. Many of
these teachers described how continual assessments in English, rather
than in Yup’ik, hindered the efforts of Yup’ik language revitalization pro-
grams. Because of NCLB, their students were required to take standard-
ized tests in English based on curriculum focused on outside require-
ments. This push from the outside impacted many of the struggles teachers
faced about language use in the classroom, assessment measures, and sup-
port for the program (Green 2010).
language po l ic y an d pl an n ing. When Anna Angiak-Bond
joined the SLATE program, she had been working as an English-medium
junior high/high school teacher in her home village, Tununak, for more
than twenty years. As she explained in her letter of application, however,
the techniques she learned to use did not always address the language
needs of her students: “I have learned numerous techniques in teaching
various content areas to Yup’ik students, or more appropriately, to ‘ESL’
kids. In retrospect, the techniques apply to cultural relevancy, but lan-
guage? In reflecting as to why I should focus in the field of applied linguis-
tics, I have come to the conclusion that a thorough understanding of lan-
guage acquisition and myself as a Yup’ik speaker might help me to
effectively enhance my teaching.”
When Angiak-Bond applied for the SLATE program, she was unsure
whether to focus on English or Yugtun. Soon after starting, however, she
24 • Marlow and Siekmann
found her focus in questions of identity, language, and culture. She fo-
cused her thesis on her role as a mother working to reinvigorate Yup’ik for
her preteen child, who had become English dominant and seemed to be
on a path to language loss (Angiak-Bond 2010).
Atan (Veronica) Michael was an immersion teacher at Ayaprun Elitn-
aurvik when she applied for the SLATE program. In her application let-
ter—the only letter written in Yugtun—she expressed her commitment to
further her education for “the sake of our children, their parents, our el-
ders and those who came before us.” This commitment formed the foun-
dation of her work and informed her investigation of the struggle she and
two other mothers experienced in attempting to maintain Yup’ik in the
home for their children (Michael 2010). In that investigation, Michael
initially struggles with and ultimately reconciles the tensions she sees be-
tween the world her grandparents grew up in and the world her children
will inherit. This same tension is evident in her letter of application.
I remember one of our elders saying that we are not teaching our
children Yup’ik ways of learning today; rather we are teaching the
Western ways. But they [the elders] are just as proud to see our chil-
dren [at Ayaprun] beginning to speak Yugtun. It is true what the el-
der had said: We literally translate what we [as teachers] see in Eng-
lish and provide the Yugtun translation for our students to learn . . .
but I also realize that these elements that the children learn today
albeit English are critical for the students’ future and careers. . . .
This also is in the forefront of my thoughts. Our Yup’ik ways has
strength in the language; if we lose our language, we will lose our
ways, as language is our strength. Since we rely so much on the
Western ways . . . how can we move forward to strengthen our Yug-
tun ways of teaching?
Physical Setting
All four classes took place in the summer session held in July 2008 on the
campus of the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Cohort 1 was enrolled in
Second Language Curriculum and Materials Development, cotaught by
Sabine Siekmann (faculty member) and Hishinlai’ “Kathy Sikorski”
(Alaska Native PhD candidate), and Multiliteracies in Second Language
Classrooms, cotaught by Joan Parker Webster (faculty member) and The-
resa Arevgaq John (Alaska Native PhD candidate). Cohort 2 was enrolled
in Assessment for the Second Language Classroom, cotaught by Marilee
Coles-Ritchie (faculty member) and Walkie Charles (Alaska Native PhD
candidate) and Language Policy and Planning, cotaught by Patrick E.
Marlow (faculty member) and April G. L. Counceller (Alaska Native PhD
candidate). Classes met four days a week (Monday, Tuesday, Thursday,
26 • Marlow and Siekmann
and Friday). Wednesday and Saturday were designated as study and proj-
ect days, respectively.
This is the backdrop against which we tell the story of the course plan-
ning, development, and specific learning activities that took place in these
summer courses. We tell this story through events and conversations that
occurred in the classes. However, the tale does not stop at the classroom
door. It continues well beyond, spilling over into out-of-class times in
which the teachers established collaborative relationships among them-
selves, deepened their knowledge and understandings, and established a
true learning community that can only come with a joint commitment to
preserving the Indigenous culture and language through sound teaching
practices.
Notes
Mentoring
Engaging Communities of Practice
27
28 • Webster and Siekmann
cal framework for mentoring and describe how we conceptualize our ap-
proach to mentoring and the evolution of our design for mentoring within
the GRC model. Finally, we discuss the themes that emerged from de-
briefing sessions with doctoral students about their perspectives on what
mentoring means in Indigenous contexts, as well as their reflections as
mentors.
Ethical Issues
tensions in m e nt or in g r o l e s. Although greater collabora-
tion, mutuality, and reciprocity in learning represent a positive shift for
both mentor and protégé, there exists an ethical tension between these
elements of good mentorship and the institutional gatekeeping require-
ment for evaluation of a protégé’s competence and performance in her
graduate studies. This duality of roles and duties can pose tensions for the
mentor as well as the protégé. According to Johnson (2008), multiple rela-
tionships (e.g., instructor, mentor, coach, advocate, colleague, friend) can
“heighten the risk of conflicts of interest, exploitation of students, and di-
minished efficacy in the faculty role” (p. 38). Similarly, Lewis Schlosser
and Pamela Foley (2008) identify potential ethical concerns that include
issues of power, multiple and/or inappropriate relationships, boundary
problems, and competence of the mentor.
As the multiplicity of roles increases for the mentor, a protégé’s diffi-
culty with handling the demands required by these roles can increase and
cause incompatibility with her mentor. While the increase in collabora-
tion, mutuality, and reciprocity in learning and the establishment of per-
sonal relationships may contribute to tensions in mentoring relationships,
these elements have been identified as very important for women and stu-
30 • Webster and Siekmann
larly when participants grounded in one cultural system are trying to func-
tion in another that is not culturally familiar or congruent. However,
while this tension can be exacerbated by lack of sensitivity to other, non-
mainstream cultural systems (as may occur in relationships involving
Western academic researchers and Indigenous communities), it can play a
role in challenging the status quo and lead to change in the participant or
context. In other words, intersubjectivity in communication and learning
seems to require a balance of shared presuppositions and differences in
perspectives.
This role of tension seems related to Mary Louise Pratt’s (1991) de-
scription of contact zones, which are defined as “social spaces where cul-
tures meet, clash and grapple with each other, often in contexts of highly
asymmetrical power” (p. 575). In her view, contact zones can be emotion-
ally charged places where people can experience anger, hostility, and in-
comprehension. However, they can also be highly creative places where
“moments of wonder and revelation, mutual understanding and new wis-
dom” (p. 586) can occur among the actors in the contact zone. If we
consider contact zones as a space in which learning can occur, this bears
a similarity to the Vygotskian notion of learning within the ZPD.
Building on this theoretical framework, we knew we could not create
our concept of mentoring using the traditional Western academic model
that suggested hierarchical, top-down, asymmetrical power relationships,
because it seemed at odds with what we viewed as parallel concepts of
communication oriented toward understanding and learning as it occurs
within the ZPD. Therefore, we sought to build mentoring relationships
that could be dialogic and reciprocal and involve multiple cultural re-
sources working together to create ranges of potentials within ZPDs that
emerge through group interaction. In our view, this could best be accom-
plished through the culturally congruent practice of collaborative activity,
also referred to as joint activity (Rogoff 1990, 1993), which has also been
described as a socially mediated process of coparticipation and colearning
(Gutierrez, Baquedano-Lopez, Alvarez, & Chiu 1999).
After seeing Fritz scramble under the heap of straw in the corner of
the hut, Dick's eyes roamed about the enclosure in search of a place
to conceal himself. He could hear the Redcoats returning to the
clearing after their fruitless pursuit of the two boys, and he knew
that there was no time to waste before getting out of sight.
Suddenly he hit upon the best remaining hiding place, an old grain
chest in the corner, and quickly raising the lid he climbed inside and
lowered it. For awhile all was silent, and just as Dick had decided
that it would be wise to get out of his new residence and look about,
he heard the indistinct murmur of voices, and heavy footsteps
sounded on the cabin floor.
"The rebel got out through the chimney," said the first voice.
"Go along. He was too fat to get out of there," said the second.
"Oh, I saw him, as I told you," repeated the first, "and if you hadn't
been asleep on your job you'd have seen him, too."
"Well, I don't care how he got out. So long as he's gone we can't
help it," the disgruntled trooper replied. "For one, I'm glad he's out
of this cozy box. I'm going to camp in here myself."
"Ought to be room for four or five of us, I guess," another Redcoat
chimed in. "And there's a nice stack of straw for my bed."
"Poor Fritz," thought Dick. "Caught again. Well, if I'm able to get out
of this I may be able to help him again. I'm afraid coming back here
was a bad plan the way things are working out."
A dispute had arisen, however, amongst the soldiers as to who was
entitled to the heap of straw, and after some scuffling and much
wordy war, they agreed to leave the straw where it was, and all slept
on their blankets.
"Hope Fritz doesn't get up and thank them for leaving him alone,"
Dick thought. "And now, with this pleasant little addition to our
party, however are we going to get away?"
The soldiers were soon rolled up in their coverings, and despite the
excitement of their recent chase, they quickly dropped off to sleep,
as Dick could tell from the constantly growing volume of snores.
After allowing all the time he felt he could to let his unwitting
captors drift soundly into the land of dreams, Dick carefully raised
the cover of his bin, and stuck his head out to look around. The fires
outside had died down, and the light inside was very scarce indeed.
Suddenly Dick heard a rustle from the straw pile and he realized that
Fritz had about exhausted his ability to keep motionless. Dick quietly
raised himself over the side of the box, and stepping cautiously over
two sleeping Redcoats, crept to the hiding place of Fritz. How to
uncover his friend without making a noise was a problem, but
proceeding with great care and skill, he gradually removed part of
the straw from Fritz, and whispering to him to be perfectly quiet till
he finished, Dick gradually had the German boy free of all trouble,
and together they tiptoed to the door of the hut.
Directly outside, however, some more of the soldiers were sleeping,
and both Dick and Fritz in their eagerness to get away from their
surroundings stumbled over one of the sleeping forms and
immediately aroused the enemy to a knowledge of their presence.
The yells of the startled Redcoats filled the woods, and with Fritz
dashing madly after the fleeing Dick, the two quickly reached the
outskirts of the camp.
"I see the horses," panted Dick. "We must try to get yours."
"Yah. Get me a horse," answered Fritz, between breaths. "Myself
won't carry much more."
Although the soldiers were heard not a great distance back, Dick
dashed to the tether rope and slashed it with his knife. At that
moment the trooper guarding the horses sprang upon him, but Fritz
had presence of mind enough left to grab him about the waist, and
the two rolled on the ground locked in each others arms. Fritz's
horse was on the end of the line, and grasping the halter to secure
him, Dick shouted and slapped at the nearest trooper's horses to
stampede them. He was more successful than he had hoped and the
frightened animals turned and galloped off in all directions, many of
them heading for the pursuing Redcoats.
The confusion that resulted was a great help to the two patriots, and
as Fritz had freed himself from the clutches of the soldier he had
been fighting with, the two boys made their escape in the darkness
and soon picked up Dick's horse, at some little distance from the
camp.
"I'm more than thankful to be out of that," said Dick, earnestly,
when they had galloped a little way along the road.
"But vere do we sleep?" asked Fritz. "For myself this is a hard day."
"Sleep," echoed Dick, "we won't get any of that before noon-day, I
guess. We've got to keep moving while the darkness helps us."
They had now covered a mile or more along the road, and Fritz was
drooping in his saddle from exhaustion, when, without warning, from
the road ahead a figure cried, "Halt!"
The command was accompanied by the ominous click of a musket
hammer being raised, and as Dick pulled at the bridle of Fritz's horse
and attempted to wheel them both, he felt himself grasped by
strong hands. Despite his efforts he was quickly pulled from his
mount.
Fritz was soon placed beside him, and the leader, after gruffly
cautioning the boys to be quiet, gave the order to march, and the
band with its prisoners in their midst moved on in the direction
which the boys had been following. Evidently they had ridden into
their ranks before discovering the presence of anyone else, and had
fallen easy victims into their hands.
It was still some time before day, and the tired boys had great
difficulty in keeping up to the rapid strides of their captors.
Finally, after what seemed an age to Fritz, the dark turned into a dull
grey and Dick, peering at the men about him, suddenly emitted a
shout that brought the men about him threateningly.
"They're our men, Fritz! Hurray!" he cried. "We're all right, after all!"
"Give us back our horse," grumbled Fritz, provoked at having walked
when he might have ridden.
"Boys, this is a mistake," explained Dick. "We're Patriots on a special
mission, and we trust you'll help us make up this needless loss of
time."
"Fine Patriots you would make," answered one of the band. "You're
a couple of Tory spies and you can't fool your Uncle Henry by any
such story as that."
"You're wrong," cried Dick. "You're dead wrong. Isn't there any of
you here that know us? This is Fritz Schmockenberg, of Captain
Morgan's company. I'm Dick Dare," he explained modestly.
"Ha, ha," laughed one of the men. "So you're Dick Dare, are you?
Well, let me tell you, my young friend, that Dick Dare is in
Charleston, and we left him there only yesterday."
"That's what everybody is supposed to think," replied Dick. "We left
there secretly."
"That don't go with us," said the leader, coming forward. "You
fellows are from the British force which is quartered a space back
along the road, and I'm afraid that under the usual rules of war, you
will have to pay the penalty that is usually dealt out to spies."
"For why didn't we stay vere ve vass," lamented Fritz. "Dot straw vas
so comfortable."
"Where were you?" questioned the Patriot captain.
"In dot Redgoat hut," answered Fritz, without thinking of the effect
such a statement would have.
"Just what I thought," cried the Patriot, exultingly. "What have you
got to say to that?" turning to Dick.
"What he says is true," answered Dick. "We just escaped from the
hands of the British, and thought we had run into another of their
parties when you took us in charge."
"Well, we don't string up prisoners without a chance to explain
themselves," returned the leader, "but I can't say as I see much
hope for you fellows. You admit coming from the enemy's camp, and
don't explain matters till you think up this fool story about being
Patriots. I kind of think you are British spies and in these times we
can't afford to be taking many chances."
"You are making an awful mistake," answered Dick. "If we could only
be taken before one of your commanders, I'm sure they would know
me. I'm afraid I can't explain anything any more fully." Dick kept in
mind the secrecy of his instructions, and did not feel that he could
betray his trust under any circumstances.
The company resumed their march and a few of the officers
withdrew and entered into an earnest discussion. They were one of
the bands of local Patriots who roamed about the country and joined
whatever organized movement was afoot in their vicinity. They were
a great thorn in the side of the British, but due to their
irresponsibility and lack of order, were not generally sought after by
the Patriot armies.
After marching some distance along the road, the men turned off to
one side, crossed a few fields, and entered a patch of woods to cook
breakfast and rest after their tiring march. The two boys shared in
the breakfast and exchanged a few comments with each other, but
talking to the men who were about them was forbidden.
With their simple repast out of the way the men lay back and took
their ease preparatory to taking up their tramp again. The leaders
now approached Dick and Fritz and proceeded to question them
about the British force they had just left.
"How many men were there in the Redcoats' camp?" asked the
captain.
"About two hundred, I should think," said Dick.
"As long as you are making your last statements on this earth, you
may as well stick to the truth," commented the second in command,
brutally.
"Bud," Fritz cried, "we would rather stick to the earth." The men
could not refrain from laughing at his unintentional joke.
"If you hang us as spies," Dick said, boldly, "you will regret it before
long. As soon as the general hears of your horrible mistake I imagine
you will have to pay the penalty for your haste."
"That's our lookout, young man," returned the leader. "We can't see
anything else to do under the circumstances. You admit having come
from the British camp, and didn't declare yourselves when we caught
you, so I guess your story won't stand in the face of the evidence
against you."
Things looked very black to the two boys at that moment, and there
passed before the minds of each all of the incidents in their exciting
young lives. Meanwhile the soldiers prepared two ropes to place
about their necks, and after asking for any last requests they had to
make, led the boys to a strong tree and threw the ends of the ropes
over the lower branches.
The two youths had borne themselves bravely through this ordeal
and were prepared to go to the end, whatever it might be, in a
suitable manner, although Fritz was nearly in tears at the thought of
what their finish must be.
"I can't forgive myself for bringing you into this, Fritz," said Dick,
brokenly.
"Dot's all right," said Fritz, "mapy der ropes vill preak."
Before Dick could reply to the German's humorous remark and
forlorn hope, a brisk volley was fired from around a bend in the
road, and the Patriot outposts ran hurriedly toward the shelter of the
trees, one of them falling before he had gone more than a few
paces, badly wounded by the first discharge.
The men quickly abandoned Dick and Fritz, and grasping their guns,
ran crouching to the nearest stone wall in front of them.
"It's the British!" cried one of the pickets.
"Come on, men, and we'll give a good account of ourselves,"
shouted the captain. "Keep behind the walls and they can't touch
us."
He and the other leaders rushed across the field toward the
oncoming British. The latter swept around the bend in the road in
regular formation and fired a volley with telling effect at the Patriot
band. The leaders, more impetuous than the men, suffered severely,
and all of them dropped either dead or wounded. The men,
however, kept on and without further loss gained the shelter of the
stone wall. But without their leaders the defence gradually
weakened and the men began to drop back and take refuge behind
the second wall. The boys had been onlookers up to this point, but
the defeat of the Patriots was too much for their enthusiasm and
with the ropes still hanging, unheeded about their necks and trailing
out behind, the two youths leaped to the front and snatching up
guns from the dead soldiers, shouted to the demoralized and
scattering members of the band.
"Come on, men!" Dick cried. "Don't let them get the best of us now!
A few more volleys and we'll have them on the run."
"Yah, yah, yah!" chorused Fritz, following Dick and brandishing the
musket above his head. He and Dick reached the second stone wall
behind which the men were seeking shelter.
The English troopers were holding the first wall and were
contemplating a charge across the field to drive the Patriots from
their position when Dick took charge.
"Fritz!" he cried, above the roar of the battle. "Take a dozen of these
fellows around and through the woods and take the British on the
flank!"
"Dot's it!" answered Fritz, catching his friend's idea quickly. "We'll did
it."
Dick motioned a handful of the men apart and told them to follow
Fritz if they hoped to win out that day and save their liberty. Dick
Dare's commanding tone and natural leadership inspired the men
with new life, and the few men left with him redoubled their efforts
to cover the departure of their comrades and hold the Redcoats off.
Their firing, however, was growing more and more infrequent, and
the English troops were beginning to climb over the stone wall to
charge across the field when Fritz and his men broke out of the
woods and yelling like a hundred Indians charged upon the rear of
the British.
"Now's the time, boys," called Dick, leaping onto the fence in front
of them. "We'll finish the argument now."
"NOW IS THE TIME", CALLED DICK.
The band jumped up with a cheer and followed Dick's lead, rushed
madly over the open ground and took the startled enemy off their
guard. The combined onslaught of the two bands was more than the
British could withstand. After a few minutes of hand-to-hand conflict
the English broke and fled headlong for the road. The exulting
Patriots followed them for some distance, making several prisoners,
and at last, wearied with the long encounter and the pursuit, they
dropped back and collected at the scene of the opening of the fight.
They had lost half a dozen men and several of the others were
wounded, but the victory was complete and amongst their prisoners
were two of the Redcoat officers.
The boys came back among the last and the sight of the two
brought cheers from the victors. The boys received these quietly and
when the shouting was over, Dick stepped forward and spoke to
them.
"Let this be a lesson to you, friends," he said soberly. "My friend Fritz
and I were nearly murdered by you without proper trial and on
entirely insufficient evidence. I think that the little parts that we
have played in this combat have proved our loyalty to the cause of
liberty, and both Fritz and I hope that any future prisoners will
receive better treatment until they are proven guilty."
The men took Dick's little talk to heart and when, after a long rest
and a meal the boys left the band, they both felt that any other
Patriots who were encountered by this particular band would receive
the best of treatment.
CHAPTER V.
ABOARD THE SLOOP.
The captain of the sloop had managed to get the door into his gun-
room open just in time, for the mate, Tim and Tom had barely
scrambled through when the sailors broke toward them in a rush.
The captain slammed down the hatch and they all jumped on top,
holding it in place while he clamped it fast.
"I doubt if they will find the other entrance," the captain said. "The
crew never knew of this place and they won't be likely to disturb us
from the other side."
"I guess they will be satisfied to have us boxed up here," said Dick.
"And as far as I kin see it's satisfied they might be," returned Tim.
"How should you figger we are goin' to git out av the place?"
"We'll wait around till it grows dark outside," replied the captain, in
an undertone, "and then we'll try to gain the after deck and clear
those villains off. Then we will have the ship in our control, so that,
with proper luck we'll run in near shore and drive the crew off the
decks altogether. The four of us can handle this craft till we make a
port and then we'll be able to ship a loyal crew and not a parcel of
thieves."
"Fine!" ejaculated Tim. "But why be waiting in this stuffy old box
whin we might be lords of the ship by runnin' the monkeys into the
ocean?"
"No use taking chances, Tim," replied Tom. "If they get us again we
won't make such an easy get away, you can bet."
"That's right," the captain commented. "They'd finish us this time if
they could get their hands on us. We have got to win or pay the
penalty tonight."
These adverse opinions served to quiet Tim's ardor, and he sat about
with the rest waiting for night to throw its blanket of darkness over
the scene, and for the rebellious crew to quiet down for the night.
As the time wore on, the Patriots could hear the dull tramping of the
mutineers in the cabin next to them, and the muffled sound of
voices sifted through the heavy oak partitions. The captain and Tom
busied themselves with the muskets and ammunition, and after
selecting four guns, a dirk and a cutlass for each of the party, did
what they could to put the remaining arms out of commission.
The sounds from the cabin had ceased now, and the four sat
impatiently awaiting the moment when they could make their great
dash for liberty. Gradually it grew quiet and when they decided that
it was safe to venture through the cabin to the after-deck, they
quietly loosened the trap and peered into the dimly lit cabin.
The recumbent figures of half a dozen mutineers were seen by the
aid of the smoky swinging lamp. Judging from the sounds of heavy
breathing, this particular party of sailors were fast asleep. The
captain, Tim, the mate and Tom crawled carefully through the
opened trap, pushed it closed after them and tip-toed for the short
ladder leading to the deck.
The swinging doors at the top of the ladder banged at this moment
and the four crouched down, fearing that they would have to start
their battle then and there, and under most unfavorable
circumstances. One of the men muttered, rolled over and resumed
his heavy breathing and the danger was over for a moment.
Following the captain, the three Patriots ascended the steps, pushed
the door open and with a rush made for the man at the wheel. Not
expecting an attack from this quarter, he was overcome with slight
effort, and while Tim and the captain carried him to the ladder
leading to the main deck, the mate took charge of the wheel and
Tom made fast the cabin doors through which they had just
emerged.
"What's going on up there?" came a voice from the lower deck.
"Everything all right, eh?"
"Sure, foine as silk," shouted Tim.
"Whot's that?" the sailor queried, noticing the commotion about the
wheel.
"Your captain, you scoundrel!" that individual replied. "And now I
guess we have got you fellows where you belong. The first man that
starts for this deck gets what you all deserve."
"Tim!" called Tom. "You and the mate take the starboard ladder, and
I'll try the port. Don't let 'em get within twenty feet of you. And don't
be afraid to use those muskets. That's what we've toted 'em up here
for."
"That's it," replied Tim. "There'll be none of the crowd gets past us
this night."
"Aye, aye," chimed in the mate. "We'll do our part and you just
holler if you want any help."
"Oh, I'll be all right," answered Tom confidently. "I don't think those
fellows are armed and I guess these guns won't appeal to them very
favorably."
"Hard-a-lea!" yelled the captain. "I'm going to try to hold her on the
other tack and see if we don't fetch up somewhere near the shore."
"Let her go," responded Tom. "Guess the nearer that we get to land
the better it will be for us."
"We can't do much toward working the ship," the captain said, "but I
don't see why we can't hold her in the right direction as long as we
have control of the wheel and the mainsail."
"Which we have," put in Tim.
"Yes, just at present," responded the mate, at his side. "But there's
no telling for how long."
"Ahoy, on deck!" came a cry from the cabin. "What's all this? Let us
out, you lubbers!"
"Can't be done, me boys," called out Tim. "We have quite enough av
us here now."
This was followed by muffled blows on the cabin doors, but the
heavy oak and the iron bar withstood all attempts to force it, and
after further ineffectual efforts the group within abandoned their
efforts and sought escape in other directions.
Tom could now distinguish the men on the lower deck quite plainly,
and in a minute or two, one of them came aft toward him.
"You fellows might as well give in now as ever," said the sailor. "We
will get you anyhow, and it will go hard with you if we have any
trouble with you."
"Well, if you leave it to us," answered Tom, "we prefer to be gotten
later, and in the meantime, let me warn you that the next man that
comes within twenty feet of these ladders gets what you all
deserve."
"That's fine talk, young fellow, but—" and just then the sailor drew
back his arm, hurled something violently at Tom and sprang back
before Tom could recover from his surprise.
A shining streak went past him and buried itself for an inch in the
rail.
"It's a knife," called out the captain. "You want to be a little more
careful and not let them get near enough again."
"You bet I will," replied Tom, startled by his narrow escape.
There was a moment's lull in the excitement, and then a crash
resounded from directly below Tim's feet.
"Ouch!" yelled the Irish boy, and discharged his musket wildly into
the darkness.
"That was only a bucket of paint," said Tom. "Don't be so free with
your bullets."
"Faith, an' I thought it was all killed we were," responded Tim,
rather ashamed of his sudden alarm.
"Not yet," replied the mate, with a grim attempt at humor.
"Cheer up," said Tom, in the same strain. "The worst is yet to come."
It was evident to the four on the after deck that the mutineers were
as yet without guns, for they would have picked off the boys where
they stood against the sky line, had they been able.
But the battle was not won yet, in fact it had hardly begun. While
the boys and the mate were gazing through the darkness at the knot
of men near the forecastle, three sailors suddenly dashed from
behind the main mast, and rushed for Tim's position near the ladder.
He and the mate fired in unison at them, and evidently wounded
one of their number, for with a howl of pain from the foremost, the
three scuttled back toward the bow.
"That's good, Tim," called Tom. "We'll hold 'em all right, eh?"
"Don't want 'em near enough to hold," replied Tim.
"That's painful," commented the mate, at Tim's attempted jest.
"Get back there!" shouted Tom, catching sight of a dark form
stealing along the bulwarks.
But instead of getting back, the man jumped from the foot of Tom's
ladder, and grasped the upper steps. Tom discharged the musket
almost in the fellow's face, and with a groan he fell back on the
deck. His comrades, however, now swarmed about the base of the
ladder, and Tom, grasping his gun by the barrel, swung it with all his
force on the head of the foremost sailor.
The man following, however, succeeded in getting a foothold on the
upper deck, and with an upraised dirk, drove Tom back from the
ladder. Tom swung at him with the clubbed musket, knocked the dirk
out of his upraised hand, and in another second was locked with him
in hand to hand conflict.
"Tim!" yelled Tom.
"Coming!" answered Tim, and leaving the mate to guard their side,
where the mutineers had been driven back, he rushed around the
cabin to the aid of his friend.
He was just in time. Tom and his opponent were rolling on the deck,
each endeavoring to put the other out of the fight, and two more
sailors were about to step upon the deck from the ladder.
Leaving Tom to take care of himself, Tim attacked the ascending
sailors. With a rush and wild shouts, he banged the foremost over
the head and sent him crashing down upon the others of the group.
Then firing his musket at the crowd, he completed their route, and
the whole party fled to the shelter of the forecastle.
"And now, where are ye, Tom?" he called.
"Here," Tom replied, coming from behind the cabin. "If I hadn't hit
that fellow on the arm before he closed with me, and knocked his
dirk out of his grasp, he might have put me out of the way."
"Where did ye put him, though?" asked Tim.
"Around here," Tom said, pointing to a recumbent figure on the
deck, with a handkerchief in his mouth and his hands and feet tied.
The sailor rolled with the rise and fall of the ship and seemed most
uncomfortable.
"The captain gave me a hand," Tom explained, "or else I would
never have finished tying him up.
"Better keep an eye out," cautioned the mate. "Looks to me like they
were going to make another try for the ladders."
"All right," the boys replied, and exchanging an encouraging slap on
the back, they took up their positions.
"Holler, if you want to be saved agin," instructed Tim.
But Tom did not reply, for when he crouched down and peered at
the shadow of the deckhouse, where the group was, there was
something about their attitude, as nearly as he could make out, that
indicated preparations for a concerted attack.
The repulse of the last assault had angered the mutineers, and they
were now determined at all costs to overcome the little group on the
after deck, and deal with them as they had planned.
Meanwhile, the captain had been steadily holding the ship on the
shore tack, and he figured that by daylight they would be in sight of
land.
The boys had not long to wait before the rush began. With a shout,
the crew dashed along the deck, faltered for a moment as the three
defenders fired at them, and then came on.
The boys and the mate seized another musket each, and fired once
more, this time in their opponents' very faces. But those behind
pushed their frightened and wounded comrades aside and started up
the ladders. The larger party made for Tom, while just enough to
make things interesting surged up and down the ladder that Tim and
the mate were guarding. Had one of them left to aid Tom, the other
would probably have been overpowered. So Tom had his hands full,
and although he kept the leaders from gaining the deck, he was
slowly tiring from his exertions, and he knew that before long the
mutineers would have him overpowered.
Tom was growing dizzy, and the ceaseless swinging and thrusting
with his musket was weakening, when from the forward hatch burst
a fresh group of men shouting wildly and rushing for the rear of the
mutineers. The attacking party turned to meet what they thought
was a new foe, and Tom sank back against the cabin thoroughly
exhausted.
"She's afire! Save yourselves!" the new arrivals were shouting.
"She's afire! The hold is burning!"
The words came dimly to Tom's ears, and he dropped to the deck
with a feeling that at last rest had come, and all was over.
But not for long. Tim and the mate came upon him lying there, and
picking him up bodily, carried him to the rail. There the captain was
working desperately over the boat on the davits, and the mate
turned to help him. In a few moments they had the ropes loosed,
and placing Tom in the bottom of the boat they all climbed in and
lowered away. The dory struck the water, rose on the next wave,
and was away from the ship. They pulled out the oars from under
the seats, put them in place and rowed away. The sailors were
rushing wildly about the decks seeking some means of escape.
"Great heavens!" ejaculated the captain. "That hold's full of powder.
They'll all be blown to kingdom come!"
The little party were staggered by this sudden destruction that was
overtaking their enemies, but there was nothing they could do, and
they must save themselves. The rowers redoubled their efforts, and
before they had gotten any great distance from the doomed vessel
the waters were shaken with a great blast, and a pillar of flame shot
up into the night, and the light showed the two halves of the ship
split apart, with the balance of the sailors clinging to the wreckage
and trying to climb aboard the floating skeleton of the wreck.
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE MARCH.
The long fight and their narrow escape had so tired Dick and Fritz
that after going a few miles further, the two Patriots decided to
make camp and get a much needed rest. They had gotten fairly well
along on their trip, and in spite of their forced halts had covered a
good deal of ground.
The boys turned aside from the road; dismounted and leading their
horses, struck into the woods for a space. When they had reached a
slight hollow far enough from the path of travel, to conceal their fire,
they threw off their kits, and undertook the preparation of a meal.
Dick cut a few strips of bacon, kneaded a cup full of flour, and set
Fritz to gathering dry leaves, twigs and heavy wood to keep the fire
blazing. They were both dog-tired, but neither uttered the slightest
complaint, and by the time the coffee was bubbling and the bacon
sizzling over the camp fire both boys felt a great deal better, and fell
to with keen appetites on their rough meal.
"This is better than taking any chances at a farm house," said Dick.
"Those soldiers we chased to-day may come back along this road,
and we might get into their clutches again. I don't think we would
get out as easily next time."
"Vat mit climbin' chimneys, und hidin' unter straw heabs, und
running und fightin'—"
"Anything else you can think of, Fritz?" asked Dick, laughingly, as
Fritz stopped for breath.
"Vat happened is happened, anyhow," said Fritz, "und it's a good
thing dot Irisher Tim vasn't along to get us into more troubles."
Dick roared at this comment on their friend, and refused to spoil the
joke by telling the German what he was laughing at. It was plain
that Fritz accounted himself a skilful messenger, and didn't see that
part of their troubles had been occasioned by his own good
intentioned, but ill-considered acts.
The boys talked for a while, and then when the night grew chilly
they rolled up singly in their blankets and soon dropped off to sleep.
For a wonder they passed the night in peace and quiet. Either the
English had passed them in the dark, or they hadn't gotten up
enough enterprise to prompt them to renew the pursuit after their
defeat that afternoon.
The rising sun saw the boys up and ready for their march. A dip into
the nearby creek, a hasty breakfast, and they were off on their trip
to Vincennes.
At noon that day they rode boldly up to the door of a farm house,
and asked a surly looking grey-haired farmer for a meal, for which
they would gladly pay what was fair. The man's face brightened
visibly at the mention of payment, and after looking them over
again, he drawled, "Wall, I reckon you two young uns kin get a bit
here, providin' you're able to pay fer it."
"Sure," answered Fritz, holding out a handful of coin with which he
was equipped for traveling.
The man's eyes narrowed a little at the sight of the money, but he
didn't express any surprise, and nodding toward the stable, said,
"Just stow your nags in there and come in. We'll have somethin'
ready in a minit."
As they turned toward the stable Dick thought he saw another form
through the half-open door of the kitchen, but the vision was so
uncertain that he dismissed the thought and busied himself with his
horse.
"Dot money opened the old crab's eyes, yes?" chuckled Fritz.
"Seemed to me he closed them," said Dick. "I'm afraid it isn't wise to
show more than one coin at a time, Fritz."
"Dot old feller couldn't do notings," boasted the German boy. "And
besides I don't always got so much to show."
"Oh, I guess everything is all right," replied Dick, "but I thought the
old man looked rather interested at your display of good money."
"Veil, id don't do him any no good," returned Fritz. "He gets enough
for vat fer meals he gives us, und dot's all."
The boys now walked up to the house, and entered the kitchen.
Again Dick thought he saw someone in the front room, but he
couldn't investigate, and besides, what of it? There were
undoubtedly others in the house.
The farmer appeared to have prepared the meal himself, and as he
set it before them he plied them with questions.
"Bin fightin'?" he queried.
"Some," replied Dick, his mouth full of hot potato.
"Which side?" asked the farmer.
"Patriot, of course."
"Of course," agreed the old man.
"Sure," said Fritz, and Dick kicked him in the shins.
"Hear them British is about knocked out," continued their host.
"They will be before long," Dick answered. "They are getting enough
of this chasing up and down the country, and finding food scarce
and enemies plentiful."
"They ain't all enemies, though."
"No, there are a few good for nothing Tories left," said Dick.
"That's kind o' hard talk," the old man drawled.
"They ought to be called worse than that," Dick returned sharply.
"S'pose I was one, myself?"
Fritz choked at the very thought of such a possibility, and Dick began
to look about for the cause of the farmer's long conversation. At that
instant there came a long whistle from outside the house, and with a
bound the farmer reached the door and stood in front of it. Dick
sprang from his stool, grabbed the old man roughly about the
shoulders, and hurled him from his position at the door. He ran
outside, followed by Fritz, who had started to his comrade's
assistance, and discovered their two horses going at a gallop down
the road, led by a young man on a third horse.
"So that's their little game," cried Dick.
"Come on, ve'll catch him," yelled Fritz, and started headlong in
pursuit.
Dick ran with him, but it was soon evident to both of them that the
longer they ran the farther behind they got. So they slowed down to
a walk, and as they reached the top of a long wooded hill, they
stopped to get their breath.
"I'll climb up that old tree, I guess," said Dick. "Maybe we can see
something of the rascals from the top."
"Yah, und I'll go too up," commented Fritz.
So the two started climbing, and Dick gradually worked his way
toward the upper branches of an aged oak. When he had almost
reached the top he heard a loud crash, and looking below saw his
good friend land with a dull thud on the mossy ground beneath.
"What's the trouble?" called Dick.
"Troubles enough," responded the startled boy. "Dot old tree is so
shaky dot I don't see how you up climbed him."
This statement occasioned so much laughter on Dick's part, that the
old monarch of the forest in retribution pretty nearly landed him on
the ground beside Fritz, and it was only by hurriedly grasping the
nearest branches and steadying himself that Dick retained his
position.
"Veil, vhere is he at?" questioned Fritz, referring to the person whom
they had seen making away with their horses.
"Can't see him at all," Dick replied, scanning the road for a view of
the vanished horseman. "That's funny, too, Fritz, for I can see way
ahead of where he should be."
"Maype he is hiding," conjectured the German.
"By George!" ejaculated Dick.
"How do you know his name?" asked Fritz.
"Don't," responded Dick. "Look here, Fritz. There is another road
running parallel with this one, a little further down in the valley."
"Vell, dot don't help us any yet," replied Fritz. "One road is enough
to valk on. No, yes?"
"But I'll bet it does help us, you lazy goose. That fellow may have
gone across to it through the woods, and if we hurry, we'll head him
off."
Dick came down rapidly and the two rushed off through the brush
and timber toward the road which Dick had discovered.
"Be a little careful about making any noise," cautioned Dick. "If that
fellow hears us floundering about in this way, he will take alarm and
ride off again, and then where would all your tree climbing and
running help you?"
"Py golly, running is bad, but no more shaky trees for me," replied
Fritz.
They could now see the opening ahead of them where the road ran
through. It was a rough log track, and unless in a desperate hurry,
no one would think of galloping over it. The two boys crouched
behind the wall of foliage that reached to the road's edge, and were
almost ready to abandon all hope of meeting their man, when from
down the road came the sound of whistling, and presently the young
Tory and the trio of horses came in sight.
The youth evidently assumed that he was now perfectly safe from
pursuit, and was proceeding leisurely back to the farm house with
his prize. Probably he would have soon left the horses in the woods,
and then have gone to the farm house alone to get the lay of the
land, but if such had been his intention, it was rudely interrupted by
the two Patriots whose mounts he was so calmly leading.
With a shout which could be heard a mile, Dick and Fritz leaped
from their ambush and grasped the startled Tory's horse. Fritz held
tight to the bit and Dick grabbed the young farmer by the leg and
pulled him out of the saddle.
Dick then proceeded to administer a sound and much deserved
thrashing to the cause of their trouble, and when the young fellow
recovered partially from his surprise, he broke away and started on a
dead run for the farm house. Dick had neither time or desire to
pursue him, and was well satisfied with recovering their steeds, and
Fritz was particularly delighted with the addition of one horse to
their party. The Tory was well out of reach by now, and before he
turned to dive into the safety of the woods, he shouted, placing his
hands to his mouth to form a megaphone, "Next time I'll get you,
you rebels!"
"That fellow seems familiar to me somehow," said Dick. "I wonder
where we've seen him before?"
"Oh—ah—I've got it," stuttered Fritz.
"Got what?" asked Dick.
"Dot's the same feller you pushed in the ditch already, the day we
started out."
"You're right," answered Dick. "That's who it is."
"Sure, I'm right," returned Fritz, as if such was always the case.
"I wonder what he's doing here. He must have followed us after that
little meeting we first had. Do you know, Fritz, I believe that fellow
has been responsible for the close attention we have been getting all
along the line. But what can his object be?"
This was too much for Fritz's detective powers, and he gave up the
matter as beyond explanation. But Dick didn't, and it bothered him
for some time as they rode rapidly along with their captive horse
tugging at the line behind them.
The log road seemed to take the right direction, and rather than
search through the woods for the main highway, the boys held to it.
It was comfortable riding here too, and the overhanging branches
served to keep the hot afternoon sun from bothering the travelers.
The boys rode in silence, broken only by occasional comments upon
their stormy trip thus far, and sometimes they spoke of the small
wild furry folk scampering away through the underbrush aroused by
the intrusion of these strangers upon their domains.
The calm of a warm summer afternoon in the forest settled upon the
boys, and they were both glad of the relief, after their continued
excitement and vigilance. Dick's thoughts traveled back to their
home up north, and lingered longer than necessary on a very close
relative of Ben Foster's, namely, Ben's sister. And when he recovered
with a guilty start from those pleasant memories, his mind roamed
again to Ben, himself, lying in the Charleston hospital, with Tom and
Tim, bless them, watching over him.
They, too, were perhaps under way by this time and before long
they would either meet where the trail struck in across the
mountains, or they would be traveling very closely after one another.
And yet, in the unforeseen future, one of them might fail to
complete that journey. But no, Dick refused to entertain such
discouraging thoughts.
Dick came to with a start. He had been dozing there in the shade of
the great forest trees; in fact, Fritz was still half asleep in his saddle.
The horses had walked steadily on, all this time, however, and now
they were back in the main roadway again.
"Wake up, old man!" called Dick.
"Yah. Um," yawned Fritz, coming back to earth.
"We have got to keep our eyes open, now," said Dick.
And they did, until some time after night fall, when both of them,
tired with the day's march, climbed from their saddles, walked back
into the sparsely covered timber land with their horses, and
prepared for another night in the open.
CHAPTER VII.
ON THE BEACH.
The day was just beginning to break in the East when the little
wave-tossed boat bearing the Patriot survivors of the ill-fated ship,
drew in sight of land. The first bright rays of the rising sun showed
the low fringe of shore to the four in the boat, and it was a very
welcome sight indeed. Tom had now recovered his strength, and
was anxious to take his place at the oars, but although his comrades
were tired out with several hours' rowing, they refused to allow him
to exert himself till he had fully recovered from the strain of the
night's battle. Tom's part in that fight had been the hardest, and he
had certainly shown himself to be a true Dare, fearless and strong in
all circumstances.
As the light grew stronger, Tim, who was in the bow, exclaimed,
"Faith, and it seems to me they are cooking our breakfast for us."
Although the rest had no idea who "they" referred to, all looked
towards the distant shore, and it seemed, as Tim had said, that
several thin streams of smoke were rising and joining into a heavier
column above the treetops.
"Looks like signs of an encampment," said Tom. "I wonder whether
they are friends or enemies?"
"Frinds or inimies makes no difference at all," answered Tim. "We'll
not be able to keep on cruising in this little tub much longer, and if
they are inimies sure we'll be after tellin' them we have but just left
a good boat belongin' to the sailors of King George, which will be but
the plain truth, and that of all the grand company that sailed to fight
the inimies of the King, we are the only ones left."
"It might be a wise thing to evade arrest or imprisonment if they are
English troops," said Tom, "but we'll hope they are Patriots till we
know to the contrary. What do you think about it, captain?"
"Well, it's certain that I don't want to be penned up till the end of
this war, and it seems to me that if we all stick to Tim's story, we
may remove any suspicion and be allowed our liberty."
"Sure, and in this game it's only right and proper to keep your
liberty," replied Tim. "And remember, Tom, you have got work ahead
of you before we get to——"
"Where we are going," interposed Tom, quickly, anxious to have
everything regarding his journey kept as secret as possible. He knew
that the mate and the captain were perfectly loyal to the cause, but
his instructions were to keep his destination to himself, and he
intended to do so.
Tim, thus admonished, said no more.
The boat had drawn nearer the shore now, and all four were keenly
and somewhat anxiously watching the beach for signs of the men
they knew must be there.
They had not long to wait, for in a few minutes a whole company
tumbled out of the woods and ran down to the beach for their
morning swim. As they were in the act of undressing, one of them
caught sight of a boat containing the Patriots.
"Hi, there, comrades," he shouted, "we are having early visitors."
Several of the men ran back for their rifles, and so Tom stuck up an
oar with his handkerchief knotted at the end of it, as a signal of
friendship. The mate and Tim pulled straight for the group on the
beach.
"Better make it seem as though we are glad to see them," the mate
suggested. "If they take us for Tories, we will be free to go our own
way, but if they suspect our real feelings we will certainly be in
trouble."
So they rowed steadily shoreward, pointing the nose of their little
craft for the group of British troops.
"Ahoy on shore!" shouted Tim. "We are after comin' from his
majesty's royal fleet, and want to spake with your officers."
Tim grinned as he shouted this, and all the party wondered how his
story would be taken.
"You'll see them quick enough," replied one of the Redcoats. "Plenty
quick enough if you are friends of his majesty's—God bless him—and
too quick if you are not."
Some of the soldiers ran out into the surf and pulled the boat in
when they had about reached the beach, and with many expressions
of thankfulness and apparent joy the Patriots tumbled out and joined
the English.
"We are the last of a strong little crew and a good ship," volunteered
the captain. "The other poor boys went down with the ship."
"And what may you be doing here, when, as far as I can see, a
captain is supposed to stick till the last?"
"We were rowing about, trying to pick up this man who had fallen
overboard," invented the captain, who had been caught in a peculiar
position. In fact, as this instance shows, and as the boys well knew,
it is both unwise and difficult to attempt deception, even in a good
cause.
"A likely thing to my way of thinking," said the soldier. "Captains do
not generally go overboard after sailors when they fall over, do
they?"
"Not generally," said Tom. "But the captain and I had been good
friends, and he was anxious to save me quickly."
"Guess this must be a matter for the officers," said one of the men.
"They will pretty soon find out whether these fellows are what they
claim to be or not."
Now, Tom had a great dislike for being seen by the officers, for his
activities with Dick had often thrown him into the enemy's hands,
and he was afraid that some of his former captors might be with this
party. Therefore to gain a little time, he said, "Now, see here, boys,
everything you will find to be all right and satisfactory, and before
we go to see the general or whoever it is that has command, we
would like to take a dip in the surf and get freshened up a bit.
Rowing around all night in an open boat doesn't help your
appearance any, and we'll just join you boys in a swim, if you don't
mind. Then we'll all be ready to go up and straighten things out."
"That's all right, young feller," said the spokesman of the troops, a
corporal, "you can have your swim all right, but don't you be too
sure it will be as easy to straighten things out as you think."
"Good," said Tom. "That's fine. And we'll be able to explain
everything later on."
Meanwhile, Tom's mind had been working rapidly, and he saw that
they would easily ferret out the truth of the story as long as there
were four of them to question. He didn't see how Tim and he could
be any worse off by facing the matter out. It was about time for Dick
and Fritz to be along in that part of the country, too, for their trip
overland would take them longer than Tom had taken, being driven
rapidly up the coast by the storm. Therefore, it seemed to him that if
he could manage to get the captain and the mate out of the way, it
would be better all around. So, when the party prepared to remove
their clothes, Tom whispered to the captain:
"Captain, we can't stop to argue matters out to form any detailed
plan, but Tim and I will start some kind of a fuss in the water now,
and while we keep their attention, you and the mate float quietly
down the shore on your backs till you reach those plum bushes—see