Adventure Magazine Cover — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

10 WILKESON the “‘goslings” (as Wayne referred to his military family) as a sleepy hound is watched by a pair of wide-awake puppies, and he seemed to regard them with an amused, but nervous, apprehension. Which he might well do, for he suffered much and often at their tongues. “Bless rather, Phil,” now said the twenty- two-year-old senior aid, ‘‘these win- ters of yours! They’re cold enough to keep the very foxes holed till Easter. Small blame to Sir Harry, if he hugs the warm ingles of New York, when God fights so discomfortingly on our side!”’ Ryan, like Jemmy, had come from the isle of saints and heroes, having been smuggled across the sea to the rebellious colonies, after a fatal duel with an English officer in Phoenix Park. It had ruined a promising, if somewhat embryonic, career at law; but, once within the American lines, the young Irishman had found an even more congenial profession, in which he had shown marked ability, and been considerably ad- vanced. By process of mutual attraction, he and Farquar had eventually arrived on Wayne’s staff; for that general ever preferred as aids young men of gallant bearing and _hardi- hood, whom he might profitably assist by precept, advice and example in the way that they should go. And, in return, they adored, imitated, and served him faithfully, but feared him not at all. ‘‘Goslings’’ he called these two, but to do the youngsters justice, they were anything but callow. Forced to an early manhood by life, fate, war and Wayne, they had managed to skip that wretched period in a boy’s develop- ment when he is uneasily conscious of not measuring up to his own day-dreams. Gentlemen born and bred, they were al- ready tried and trusted officers, although they could not sum forty-five years betwixt them. Colonel Butler, a stout Pennsylvanian, who was Wayne’s successor in command of the 4th, now agreed with Ryan. “Ay, he has deputized his authority to noble Jack-o’-the-Frost, who, though he nips our noses also, is yet our strongest ally.” “Vea,” said Captain Bittings, also from Pennsylvania, ‘“‘yea, he’ll lay a siege to Sir Harry that will not raise till the wild geese honk on their way to Canada. And ’tis a mortal pity at that! Think of how, as soon O’CONNELL as we get a good fall of it, a red coat will stand out against the snow!” He sighted along an imaginary rifle barrel. ‘‘’T will be like blobs of blood on a fresh bandage—a very Hessian could not miss at such a mark,” Ryan made a hasty movement of distaste, and Stewart shrugged resignedly. Bittings was a strange man, with a queer, strained, repressed manner, and the face of a savage saint; a saint that had been tempted and betrayed by the devil. Born and raised a Friend, he had, at the beginning of hos- tilities, suddenly denied his faith to become one of the most markedly valorous officers of his native State. But even while his fame was made by his deeds, it was sullied by his manner of doing them. Nothing could be proved, save that once he had taken a Mohawk scalp, but there were ugly rumors of quarter denied; and Wayne continually had to check an undue severity toward the enlisted men. In fact, the ex- Quaker was an awkward problem to his superior officer. Too courageous, too de- voted, too influential—through his wealthy, neutral family—to be summarily discharged, he was also too evilly impulsive to be trusted. ‘“‘Look at the general’s brow,’’ muttered Farquar to Colonel Stewart. ‘’Tis black as a summer storm. The news must be worse than he expected.”’ “Treason, at the very least,” agreed the Scotsman. “Or maybe an outbreak of smallpox among the French troops.”’ ‘“Tt’s more likely to be the plague than the other,’”’ scoffed Butler, who was an in- veterate optimist. “Since Arnold left us, rumors of treason have been so rife that if a man washes his hands at an unaccustomed hour, or spits left of the trail, there is riot and outcry and charges of treason!”’ “Wait!” said Stewart, wagging an omi- nous forefinger. “I grant ye there has been much outcry, but when the noise of it is over, ye will find there has also been some little treason.” “In York alone,” said the major, “is opinion split so clean that every man is forced to choose and keep one side only.”’ “In York, yes, ” admitted Stewart, “but east of York?” : “Rumors, rumors!”’ Butler scouted them. “Nay, ’tis as sood as gettled,” said Van Kuren hastily. “ “Sood as gettled’?”’ Farquar raised in- quiring brows to Ryan. COmiclbool CO