Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

The White Dawn likewise refreshing themselves at some near- by groggery, but none of the enlisted men was thus indulged. At another time, just after swinging into Queen’s street, we were brought to a halt by a dense gathering of people that packed the street. Our ser- geant went forward to learn the cause of the excitement before ordering our armed escort to clear us a path. But we in the ranks also got at the truth. “Deader’n any rebel ever killed on Long Island,” I heard a citizen loudly aver. ‘Throat slit something horrid!’ cried a woman. A chorus of voices smothered all intel- ligibility for a minute, then the penetrating - falsetto of the woman pierced the babel and repeated: “Throat slit something horrid! My man just come from there. He seen her.” _— “Did the cutthroats git her gold?” yelled a man in a leather apron. “That be n’t known,” said the woman. “But it’s likely.” ‘“A fool to go home with a fortun’ waitin’ to be took.” “Laws me! An’ so much good the heaven- ly gold pieces could ’a’ done us all!” These exclamatory fragments told us a woman had been killed and robbed. To create such a stir she must have been some- thing of a personage. The sergeant, haughty because of his libations, seized a man by the shoulder and fiercely demanded: “What the name does this mean? You’re breaking the king’s peace. You’re blocking the road against his Majesty’s soldiers. Clear a path there, or I’ll send a few bayonets ahead. You, there in the apron! Explain what this all mearts?”’ The farrier, for such I took him to be, was frightened by: the uniform and obsequi- ously replied: “Murder has been did, your worship. They’ve just found old Mother Baff with her throat cut most mortally. She’s boasted as how she was going to tell General Howe where Kerry, the spy, could be found. Some say she was killed for her hidden gold, but I don’t believe it. Cutthroats would ’a’ waited till she’d collected the reward for the spy’s takin’. No, sir, your worship; I be- lieve the spy dogged her steps and slit her weasand so she couldn’t blat on him.” “She was killed in her shanty in Canvas Town,” eagerly added the woman. “My man seen the mob tearing her shanty to 109 pieces in search for her gold. That shows she’d named the spy and got her guineas and had took it home to hide with t’other pretty yellow pieces.” : “Pickle me for a pig! Done for right after. she quit Golden Hill! If she hadn’t been to headquarters afore she was killed that make-believe Kerry is a lucky dog. ’Ten- tion! Forward march. Step lively, lads. A mug of ale when we reach the battery. So — that old hellion loses all her guineas. Lor’, the luck of some folks!’ | A great peace came over me. It wasa ~ deliverance that would have escaped my wildest imagining. Bucks whispered to me: “So that sprightly creatur’s gone! Oh, ain’t we shedding tears of sorrer? Seems good to see the sun shining once more. We'll sleep sound this night.” “Hush! Hush! Hang your head,’ I hissed; for to my consternation a danger as threatening as any Mother Baff had - Imposed in her hfetime was now upon us. Ambrose Kerry, alias Captain Sant, late of the American army, stood in the doorway of a fashionable store, jauntily wearing the uniform of @ British captain. He would immediately recognize either Bucks or me, for he had often seen us uncouthly attired and besmeared with dirt. Bucks took one look and then ducked his-head and turned it the other way. We were again at a stand- still and shielded from his gaze only by the throngs passing the store and partially obscuring his view. “Tf I could only git him at the business end of a Deckhard!” muttered the rifleman. yer JI SEEMED as if we would never ‘yh move. Sant held his place as “ though he were keeping an. appoint- I believed he was looking for some ment. one; then Betsy Osmond emerged from the store and stood beside him. It was she he was waiting for. They left the doorway and walked to the edge of the road to escape being buffeted by the drifting groups, and had it not been for their interest in each | - other my friend and I surely would have been discovered. ‘They talked earnestly; then she took his arm and they walked down town, toward Hanover Square. Even now the drama was not played out, for as we were giyen the word to march the figure of Paul Bowen ‘suddenly appeared among the gossiping citizens and hurried after Sant and the maid. There was no -— ¢ com () IDOOKSACON - ~ " Lae