Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

the barn made the risk too great. “Stop it, old man!” I warned. “You know I’m not Ambrose: Kerry. You're playing a game.”’ “Ol’ Soclates suttin’ly playin’ a game,” he gravely admitted. “It’s er game dat takes Mistah Officer Man snoopin’ out: in de bushes so’s yo’ can git to de house. Not Marse Ambrose? Lord bress yo’, child, I know’d dat when you told me ol’ Marse Kenton Kerry was living. En ef yo’ wa’n’t de real Marse Ambrose, de king’s man, den I suspects yo’ must be a hallelujah-rebel a-workin’ fo’ Marse Washin’ton. Yo’ just hide dat murderin’ pistol en duck out de back door en scoot fo’ de back of de house. House empty. Sent de servants to town ef hour ago.’ Completely ignoring my pistol he hurried from the barn. I slipped through the rear door and would have continued my flight had there been any cover within a decent distance. But. the extent of cleared ground at the rear of It was the manor-house, or the barn. Bending low and taking advantage of the out-buildings and huge piles of fireplace wood I reached © the back of the house without any cry of discovery being given. I waited but a mo- ment when the door opened and old Socrates was bowing me in. I was fair spent with nervous tension and the exertions of the last twenty-four hours. The butler’s obsequious deportment irritated me. It was so astounding to hear -his professed friendship for his mistress’ enemies that I could scarce believe him. “See here,” I said, “you know I’m not Kerry, yet you offer to help me. Why?” “ *Cause, sah, I take it yo’ must bea spy,” he complacently replied. “And I'll kill you before I’ll be given up!” He laughed softly. “Ef yo’ means till ol’ Soclates gives yo’ up den yo’s gwine to live.to be older den de stars. Jest ca’m yo’se’f en foller me.” Once more ignoring my threatening atti- tude he led the way into the big hall and up two flights of stairs to a small room. ‘This had a trap door in the ceiling and along the wall was a ladder. “It’s goin’ to be warm under de roof,” he regretted. . “But when yo’ have a bite to eat en a Jug of water en a jug of rum I ’low yo’ goin’ to do famous.” I cautiously reconnoitered the woods through the window and saw the officer and ! Lo The White Dawn Z 115” several soldiers approaching the house. As they came openly and in no great haste I knew my presence was not suspected. ‘So you'd help a spy, Socrates?” I asked, turning back to him. His ancient face broke into new wrinkles. ‘“‘*Cordin’ to what side dey spy fo’,” he answered. ‘Spy fo’ Marse Washin’ton den I suttin’ly help.” “Vm trusting you. Soldiers are coming.” “Use de ladder. Pull it up after yo’.” With that he scuttled from the room x down the stairs. Go down at once. I mounted to the loft, pulled up the short | ladder and softly closed the trap. My quarters were narrow and uncomfortably warm. A small round window close to the . roof-tree admitted enough light to dispel the shadows. The window was thick with spider-webs. looked out. The soldiers nearing the house were too close to be seen, but I had a good view of my late hiding-place in the woods. Had I remained there I surely would have been captured, as a long string of soldiers and some rustics were moving through the brush and carefully examining every covert and hollow. The investigation of a thicket was simple and effective, the soldier or rustic plunging bayonet or scythe blade into the suspicious spot. Verily my gift of a ham bone. had stirred up a hornet’s nest. My refuge had a pile of blankets under the eaves for fur- nishings and I was not the first hunted man who had sought its sanctuary. _The blankets suggested rest. With my loaded pistols be- side me I fell asleep. When I awoke the light was nearly gone, the sun being low and at the other end of the house. As {sat up my hand hit a platter of food. and two jugs. There was a cold roast fowl and some bread and cheese. One jug was filled with lukewarm water, the other held rum. Finding a mug I mixed a dram and felt the better for it. There was no further doubting old Socrates’s loyalty to the American cause, for he easily could have disarmed me, or betrayed me while I slept. He had made use of a second ladder, a somewhere below, in gaining the oit Yet with my mind refreshed by sleep I found it difficult to’reconcile the butler’s attitude toward me with what had happened I brushed these aside and - Gomichbooks*co . *. 4 ee, , - * > ™~