Beadle's Dime Novels No. 127: Bald Eagle — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

54 BALD EAGLE. CHAPTER VII. THE Die IS CAST. Upon returning to the camp, Montagnie found the usual routine of military duty unchanged. There were the morn- ing review, the camp fires, the fire-arms stacked for inspec- tion, and the poor garments of the soldiery spread out for washing and airing, together with the ordinary sounds of light jesting, and mirth, half bitter and half careless, growing out of the hardships or inaction of the period. Some, more prosperous than others, were sending their clothing to the neighboring farm-hougses for renovation—and groups of these messengers were disposed about, giving to the scene an as- pect of cheerful, busy idleness, far from being unpicturesque, as the morning sun lighted the white canvas tents, and a fitful breeze swayed them to and fro. Montagnie was surprised at this appearance of inaction, having supposed, from the re- marks of Washington and Hamilton, that the troops were to be immediately on the march. Reaching the quarters of the commander-in-chief, he found all in readiness for his departure, together with another dis- patch to be delivered at West Point, which he received from the hands of Hamilton. “I shall sell my life as dearly as possible, you may be sure, Hamilton; but, really, I should like to know upon what pre- text I lose it,’ said Montagnie. Hamilton this time looked grave, was severe, and his an- swer was so ambiguous, that Montagnie felt himself treated after a school-boy fashion, as if expected to obey quite as much because he is young in years as because he is subordin- ate, and to whom it is not worth while to give a reason. “When you reach Morristown,” replied Hamilton, “ all will be made clear to you.” “Reach Morristown! I shall do that when I am bullet- proof, colonel, not before. Confound this mystery; I wou’t Stay to be shot like a lame pigeon, be the case what it may ; connicloooks.com