Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 139: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

HORNBUCKLE’S SECRET 123 under the protection of a dead man. If they smelt plunder, it would be hard to keep back that pack of wolves. To arm against surprise, he had brought the rifle and knife from the cabin. It was a great drawback that Egger knew any- thing about Hornbuckle’s devised possessions. So much the harder would it be to protect or to move them. All day he revolved these things. No Unaka. When night came, he lit his fire on the pinnacle of the big boulder, with the hope that it might be seen by the Cherokee. And it would make visible any two-footed or four-footed thing stealing a-nigh him. His thoughts were busy with the future. With forty-seven horses he could raise a cavalry company. He would get a commission. That boy at Sa- vannah, Pat talked about, was an officer at sixteen! “I mean to be Captain Anderson before I’m seventeen!”’ Rifle in hand, he paced back and forth. “I'll raise an army that my Lord Leslie will hear of!” A man came stealing out of the thicket. With the foot of an Indian he stole toward the hut. Crouching in the cedars, he took a pistol from his belt, his eyes on that open, firelit glade where Tom sentineled the dead. Round a corner of the cabin came Jom, a dark-skinned fellow, his head — pirate-fashion — tied up in a red rag. He was naked to the belt; he wore one garment, tattered buckskin breeches. Over his shoulder, a rifle. His bare feet trod the ground with a light, bold step. [here was something in the quick lift of the head that was full of power. The certitude of him! What had stampeded Friar Rush? “Must have seen a highland moccasin. Fie, Friar! A monk with the jimmies!” Tom threw back his head and laughed. And the spy in the bushes dropped his pistol; and his face went down into his hands. The sentinel tramped away to the fire, humming the old tune sung by them all at home till it “ran in the blood.” ‘“Malbrouk s’en va-t’en guerre — — Mironton, mironton, mirontaine! Malbrouk s’en va-t’en guerre— Ne sais quand reviendra!” CORNICLIOOO® “eS (CO) im