Beadle's Dime Novels No. 13 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

PRESTON ORDERED TO CHARLESTON. 61 blocd that flowed from the shoulder. When the four men approached,.she ordered them to carry him into the house. They obeyed, and the man who merited so little kindness, was ‘laid on one of the widow’s softest beds. Neither of the wounds was likely to prove fatal, and for this she was. thankful, Seeing that the captain was comfortable, one of the men set off to apprise his second-officer of the affair, and learn what measures it would be best to take under the circumstances. If it could possibly be done, the captain should be removed from his present situation, for the house of Mrs. Vale was not. large enough to lodge the troop, and if only part of it was left near the captain, an immediate attack from Nat Ernshaw’s brigade could reasonably be expected. In an-hour the man returned with the first lieutenant and twenty men, They found Preston pale and weak from the loss of blood, but-still able to be-moved, and Mrs. Vale was soon left in quiet possession of her house. ‘When Reginald returned to his quarters he was much ex- hausted, but, by the next morning was recruited enough to write a long letter to the commander at Charleston. The ex- act manner in which the wound was received, he of course did not take pains to explain, for there might have appeared that which would have set inquiries on foot which the cap- tain would rather not excite. He sought to create the im- pression that John Vale was a cold-blooded assassin, who without any provocation, fired upon his victim from an am- bush. 3 ; The answer to this letter was just such as had been wishe¢ for. On the strength of his wound, another officer was sent to fill his place, and Preston obtained permission to return to Charleston. Thus, his scheme with regard to Catherine, was actually furthered by the results of the assault of the young girl’s brother. ; s It was still early in the morning. Nat Ernshaw*was stand- ing alone under the shade of a cedar-tree, thinking of his ab- sent friend and the sister who now was the star of light to the soul of the brave patriot. From this reverie h® was aroused by the sharp, peremptory challenge of the sentinel posted at the outskirts of the swamp. comichoole atm