Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

eV The White Dawn “Tf we don’t catch that sergeant I'll do nothing but staff duty. For if I’m cap- tured while he lives it’ll mean hanging.” The most familiar voice of all, that of my former captain, Ambrose Kerry, alias Sant. “My men are sure at least two came this way,” said Wentsel. “The camp at Jones’ - place has been notified. By this time a cor- don of men should be stretching from the Hogeland farm to Vandewater’s. Before morning it will be extended to the post road. We should make it a night hunt.” “Something weirdly unpleasant about nightwork outdoors,” demurred Saleby. “Something more unpleasant for every man who drank with that rebel sergeant and accepted him as Kerry,’ snarled Wentsel. “If we only -had some dogs!” lamented Saleby. ‘Take some of the cursedly know- ing brutes and they’d go out alone and bag the game. I know a chap who had a fear- fully knowing——” I wriggled back as a figure began stealing up the stairs. I retreated to the room under the loft before I discovered it was old Socrates. I could feel him trembling vio- lently as he seized my arm and whispered. “Yo’ all better pull er hoof en go. I’se *fraid dey’s goin’ to stay all night. Marse Jasper is in his black sulks. Yo’ can stay en risk it,ef yo’ wanter, but dey’s stringin’ sojers cross de whole island. Dey talks *bout fetchin’ up dawgs. Best time to git through is tonight. I can take yo’ out de back way.” “Tl go,” I readily agreed. to the two overhead.”’ “En kin’ly fetch down de platter’n jugs’n mug. Hope dere ain’t no crumbs on de floor.”’ I ran up the ladder and thrust my head through the trap and hurriedly explained the situation and my intention of departing at once. They readily agreed it was best to leave and we cleared the loft, even to removing the second ladder. Socrates was nervously waiting for us outside the door, expecting every moment to hear his name* shouted by his master. With a deep sigh of relief he led us to the end of the hall and half way down a back flight of stairs, where we halted until he made sure none of his master’s guests had wandered to the kitchen. Trembling with excitement he returned and urged us to be quiet. There was so much noise at the front of the house I had no fears that our soft “T’ll speak LG 37 ae movements would be heard. Socrates blew out the one candle in the kitchen as we en- tered it and conducted us to the back door. “De King’s Bridge is dere,’ he whis- pered, taking my hand and pointing it toward the north. My companions carried the jug of water and what was left of the fowl while I took the lead, carrying the second jug. We moved in single file and walked stealthily across some hayfields. Travel was more clumsy when we entered some pasture land, dotted with bushes and rocks. In this fashion we traveled until it was possible to discern cimaly: our surround- ings. Further advance was hazardous and I considered it most fortunate to discover a small shack surrounded by a rank growth of alders. I knew we were close to the post road, and very near to a line running due east from the Nicholas Jones farm. “Shall we stop here, or go on?” I asked — my companions. ‘We ought to get beyond the cordon of soldiers now, but every mo- ment makes ttavel more dangerous. I'd prefer going ahead and eating after we’ve gotten beyond the redcoats.” “We must eat. My friend is very tired. To pass. beyond the soldiers and then rest would be more dangerous, as they will sweep north with daylight. We’re more. secure hiding behind them.” | They had come to me in the darkness — and we had traveled in darkness, and my ~ impressions of them were vague. With the tension of escape from the country house removed I began to take a keen interest in them. I had supposed I was the only spy. In the garret and throughout the night there had been two voices; now the approach of ; morning humanized them. “Oh, let us rest here by all means,” spoke up the chap with the roast fowl. ; The voice sent my hands:to his shoulders to-turn his face to the east, where the first - gray light was beginning to reveal the sky- line. “Betsy Osmond!” I whispered. She gave a little ercaanes of alarm and fiercely demanded— “Who are you who know me in this dis- guise?” I remembered my attire, Ser a Se face and rough stubble of beard. “Qld Socrates ought to have told you. Have you forgotten Sergeant ee I asked. oa com (@) - x - y ~~ - ~ > om« mr I as a - . . " { { a é " | if cary a ’ + ry A ’ ahh | ors ren so o. Wx >, ig AA Se aE OS AT. ite \ NE EE TE CB 4) = dC 10 Ss