Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

140 Tom ANDERSON, DareE-DEVIL licking voices. The bushwhackers were abroad. “Noisy ruffians think they’ve got their dunghill to themselves!” muttered Troupe. He could hear Unaka’s quickened breathing. Let Emathla’s brother be on his guard. The son of Going Snake would soon return. And the savage disappeared in the darkness. It wanted but an hour of day when, to Troupe’s un- speakable relief, the boy returned. He brought news. He had hidden himself near the Tory’s Den. After hours of lurking he had found out that the gang were about to “run off’ the horses stabled in the cave. They were to be taken to Portsmouth and shipped to Charleston — to the Brit- ish quartermaster. “The devil! The British are not at Charleston!” Unaka was positive; Troupe, sorely disturbed. What might not have happened since he left the Capital? Said he: “Unaka, we can’t let these horse-thieves get away with Tom Calvert’s horses. Will you stand by me if I try to block ’em?” Unaka nodded. ‘Troupe roused Tom, and explained the situation. “Going to see if we can’t work the rabbit’s-foot on ’em — surprise em — or something. May be gone all day — if we make a bag.” é Day 33 “It’s nearly daybreak. If we have luck, Ill bring you a horse to ride home. You are not able to tramp down the mountain. My dear boy, be cautious. Lie low till we get back. We can’t let those horse-thieves flank us!” How little Troupe dreamed that this was farewell! As they wound through the woods the soldier said to the Indian: “If they leave their hole before we get there, we'll hunt cover. Good big gang?” A grunt of affirmation. The Cherokee turned a kindling eye on this slim young fellow with the ballroom foot. When, in the feeble light of coming dawn, our friends could see a lank figure lounging up and down under the chestnuts, Troupe made a détour ECONMMICLMOOOKS,(e© m