CHAPTER I.

THE CHASE.


At noon, on the first Saturday of March, 1796, there was an unusual stir
at the old Barton farm-house, just across the creek to the eastward, as
you leave Kennett Square by the Philadelphia stage-road. Any gathering
of the people at Barton's was a most rare occurrence; yet, on that day
and at that hour, whoever stood upon the porch of the corner house, in
the village, could see horsemen approaching by all the four roads which
there met. Some five or six had already dismounted at the Unicorn
Tavern, and were refreshing themselves with stout glasses of "Old Rye,"
while their horses, tethered side by side to the pegs in the long
hitching-bar, pawed and stamped impatiently. An eye familiar with the
ways of the neighborhood might have surmised the nature of the occasion
which called so many together, from the appearance and equipment of
these horses. They were not heavy animals, with the marks of
plough-collars on their broad shoulders, or the hair worn off their
rumps by huge breech-straps; but light and clean-limbed, one or two of
them showing signs of good blood, and all more carefully groomed than
usual.

Evidently, there was no "vendue" at the Barton farmhouse; neither a
funeral, nor a wedding, since male guests seemed to have been
exclusively bidden. To be sure, Miss Betsy Lavender had been observed to
issue from Dr. Deane's door, on the opposite side of the way, and turn
into the path beyond the blacksmith's, which led down through the wood
and over the creek to Barton's; but then, Miss Lavender was known to be