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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Listen!" murmured Lois, close at my elbow. "There! It comes again! Do you not hear it, Euan! That low, long, sustained and heart-thrilling undertone droning in the air through all this tumult!" And presently I heard the sound the wondrous melancholy, yet seductive music of our conch-horn. Its magic call set my every pulse a-throbbing.
We had now arrived at Croghan's, and she was withdrawing her arm from mine, when the hollow sound of a conch-horn went echoing and booming through the dusk. "It does mean your marching orders!" she exclaimed, startled. "It most certainly means something," said I. "Good-night I must run for the fort " "Are you going to to leave me?" "That horn is calling out Morgan's men "
Truly there was no fox like Butler in the Northland! All was very still about us as we marched; the river mist hung along the woods; a few birds sang; the tops of the Indian corn rustled. Toward eight o'clock the conch-horn blew; our riflemen halted and deployed in perfect silence, facing the unseen works on the wooded ridge ahead.
Behind me, Cato struck flint and lighted two tall candles; outside the lawn, near the stockade, a stable-lad set a conch-horn to his lips, blowing a deep, melodious cattle-call, and far away I heard them coming tin, ton! tin, ton! tinkle! through the woods, slowly, slowly, till in the freshening dusk I smelled their milk and heard them lowing at the unseen pasture-bars.
"You love best the bellowing conch-horn of the rifles," observed Lana to Lois, with a touch of her old-time impudence. "I?" exclaimed Lois. "You once told me that every blast of it sets you a-trembling," insisted Lana. "Naturally I take it that you quiver with delight having some friend in that corps " "Lana! Have done, you little baggage!" "Lord!" said Lana. "'Twas Major Parr I meant.
"For the last few minutes there has been a sound in the woods very far away, Euan yet, if one could hear so far I would swear that I heard the conch-horn of your rifles!" "Did I not tell you she knew it well?" said Lana with her pallid smile, as we opened the massive guard-door, squeezed through the covered way, and came out along the rifle-platform among our noisy soldiers.
"I heard your regiment's pretty conch-horn in the morning," she said, "and slipped out of my wagon and edged forward amid all that swearing, sweating confusion, noticed not at all by anybody, save when a red-head Jersey sergeant bawled at me to man a rope and haul at the mired cannon with the others.
My Indians had eaten, and were touching up their paint when Major Parr came up, wearing a magnificent new suit of fringed buckskins, and ordered us to guide the rifle battalion. A moment later our conch-horn boomed out its thrilling and melodious warning. Far in the rear I heard the drums and bugle-horns of the light infantry sounding the general.
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