Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XVII TROUPE In less than a week Tom was able to make the ascent of the cliff — safeguarded by a second rope which was passed under his armpits and made fast to a tree on the verge. The mountain was now in dense leafage. How they la- bored to wash away contagion at the spring under the linn! Troupe, soaking his Greek head in the spring, re- marked: “If any unlucky thing has kept Pratt from doing as he promised, our position will be unenviable. Oddly enough, I miss my epaulets more than my breeches!”’ “That’s all vanity,” retorted Tom, laughing. Their clothing, for fear of pestilence, was now a smoking heap on the floor of the White Cavern. Presently a queer procession filed through the starlight: three dripping, naked, but fully armed young fellows, a white, a red, and a brown one —the stain on [Tom’s skin was stubborn. Troupe, with his sword about his naked body, and pistols in his belt, was an armed Hermes. On, to the deserted cabin in Hornbuckle’s Clearing. Here the tinder-box dis- closed a welcome sight. In one corner of the cabin was a pair of saddle-bags stuffed with clothing for the three, and moccasins for Unaka not forgotten. “Stil-la-pica!”’ (moccasins) chuckled Tom. And Troupe breathed, “‘God bless Pratt!’’ The light shone only while they got into their clothes; their plans were whispered in darkness. “Day must n’t overtake us here. The treasure’s safe. We can come back with a detachment — and dig up the gold. Think you are strong enough to go on now, down the mountain, Tom Calvert?” No answer. Troupe put out his hand in the darkness. Tom was fast asleep on a shuck-pile. “Worn out!” At this instant the tramp of horses and the sound of rol- CORNICLOO Ss) (E©) m