Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 1168 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

Major Dalrymple knew that the prisoner had been considered a British SPY, and that he had been known to pass the American lines in disguise; but whether he would be considered a spy, captured as he was became a question of doubt in the patriot camp, ar to settle the matter, a courier was dispatched to Washington with news of his capture, and asking in- structions in the matter. it was noon the next day when the courier re- niga from Morristown with this characteristic re- ply: ‘Mayor Homur Datrympue: You are hereby in- ‘vested with full power and eabnority to try Prodigal Tomas 2 British spy. If found guilty, he will not be xecuted, of course, without my approval. : ‘“Gror@zk WASHINGTON. “* Morristown, Jan, — , 1777.” This reply was not altogether unexpected poy Dal- rymple, and yet hs would gladly have evaded the duty that Tom’s capture devolved upon him, could he have done so honorably, , He regretted that the stern necessities of war required such duty of any man, Hecould face an enemy in battle, but his very soul shrunk from the thought of taking a prisoner's ife. But what could he do, unless it was to refuse to do his duty? The law was inexorable, and Prodi- gal Tom must be placed on trial as a spy. The preliminaries were soon arranged, and then the trial began; but we will not attempt to give the, whole proceedings which occupied two days, Suf- fice it to say that Prodigal Tom was found guilty and sentenced to be hung as a spy. The sentence was made out in writing and sent, in care of a courier, to Washington for his signature approving of the same. » the day ef Tom’s conviction, Doctor Dave, the Indian nomad, made his appearance in the patriot camp. CHAPTER XVII, THE "COON-HUNTERS. We left Colonel Fairmont’s black servants, six in number, on their way to the ’coon-grounds in the valley of the Raritan. They were led by old Grindy, whom we have met before, and whose heart ‘was en- listed in the cause of freedom, ‘Coon-hunting was a favorite amusement of Fair- mont’s servauts, and, although the sport was some- what out of season in January, they had spent nearty every night for the ,past two weeks in the woods. They pushed their way rapidly and silently through the forest until the ** game-grounds ’’ were reached when old Grindy, and the to whom Agnes had given the basket of provision, left the main party and pressed on into a deep valley, where the dark- ness and density of the woods rendered the black- ness of night intense. This however, proved no im- peditient to the advance of the darkeys, and they nrried on until their footsteps were arrested by a stone wall in which there was a door opening into an excavation in the steep hillside, , This cavern had been d aBARS. 07 Fairmont’s blacks years before. It had been used by them as a sort of a rendezvous upon their hunting excursions. Over and around the place time had added its growth rd ' of shrubbery and vines until it was as completely een from the view as it was possible for it to have een. Into ’Coon Cave, as the darkeys called the place, old Grindy led the way; then in the darkness of the retreat the sound of voices arose—voices whose tremulous tones denoted feebleness of strength. In a few minutes the old man and his young com- panion came out of the cave, closed the door d them, and then crept softly away. Out in the forest they rejoined their comrades when all struck out in search of ’coon and ‘possum. weiB freed their dog from the leash to range the woods. As the party moved on, phantom-like through the darkness, an old owl scrambling out of a tree over- head, or the boom of ani ht-jar’s wing would startle them, ever and anon, with sudden fear and regret; for the sounds were ill-omens to them. ‘*Cussfound de luck,”’ growled old Grindy after an hour’s hunting in vain, ess as what ebery ’coon and possum has took his family and os we “T jist knowed we’d not*find ag ng when I heard dem owls and dem ‘ jars,’ ’’ said Joe Buckhorn; ‘* when dey are ont, de’coon and ’possum are in, dat am a scientific fact."’ “Dar! by geminly frost!” suddenly burst from old Grindy’s lips, ‘‘dat dog, Box, has treed sumfin now. Ki, yi! come ‘long, boys,”’ and away went the pat at the top of their speed, directing their course y the barking of the dog. ; On over hill and valley, through thicket and bram- ble—with the headlong impetnonity of wild men, they rushed, as though each one was trying to out- strip the other in a race to the dog. Old as he was, Grindy finally reached the animal ahead of his companions. 7 i Out of breath, almost, they ali stopped to rest and isten. It struck old Grindy, at once, that the dog was acting unusually queer for an old 'coon-dog, and spoke of it to his com ions, ‘*\lebby he’s got a ‘or painter treed, Grindy,"’ said Buckhorn. — “Sumfin dat’s not a coon or ‘possum. shoah’n shootin’—Lord! did you hear dat?”’ “Te war sumfin dat led-like,’’ said Buckhorn. “T sw’ar ii war a g , Grindy,’’ exclaimed an- other. “Go ‘long wid your foolishin’,” reproved the old darkey, * day ar’n’t no sich things as ghosteses, you black, suparstitchin’ nigger. But I tells you dar’s ~ Delaware Dick, — =, oo ome - sumfin not right round heah, and I’se gwine to vesti- gation it dis mortal secrond.”’ He started slowly and carefully forward with his hands outstretched before him; and he had gone but a few paces when something swung ey his finger-tips, but at once oscillated beyond his touch. He started with a sort of a vague shudder, reached out a little further and when the oh eye swung back he seized it. It was a human body still warm and aquiver with life. It was suspended to a limb be- tween heaven and earth. ; ‘*T’se found it, boys!” exclaimed old Grindy, *‘ and it’s a Man hangin’ toa limb. He’s warm and jerky yit—’spects he’s not dead—give a boost here, and et’s ease him down.” They cut the rope and placed the body at full length upon the ground. Grindy felt his pulse, and found that it was not entirely gone; and without a moment's delay, the simplest remedy known to the darkeys was af once applied for the resuscitation of the feeble spark left in the body of the unknown, Nor were their kind, humane effortsin vain, Signs of returning consciousness Were soon manifested; and as soon as the man was enabled to speak, though incoherently, Grindy said to his companions; ‘* Boys, Lknow he’s another patriot dat dem orner Tories have tried to kill; but praise de Lord, dey'll t foolished ag’in. We mus’ jist tote him right off de ’Coon Cave, fo'thwith. reckon as what one snifter from dat bottle what de young missus send to de patriots will jis’ h’ist him right up.” Old Grindy’s words were imperative; and as there was no appeal from his decisions, he always had his way among his black friends. And in a few min- utes arude litter had been constructed, the stranger placed upon it and the course of the 'coon-hunters shaped toward the bidden cavern, CHAPTER XIX. A STARTLING REVELATION. CAPTAIN WaLTon, alias British Bill, continved in camp at Cross Hollows; though the captain, him- self, spent most of his time at l’airmont Place within the sunshine of Agnes Melross’s lovely presence. One day when he foutid old Sanmnet alone, he em- braced the opportunity of speaking to him of the matter that lay nearest his heart. “Colonel,” he said, “ you have doubtless wonder- ed why Ihave made Fairmont Place so many visits of late, have you not?’’ ** Well, really, captain, I haven't wondered much about it,’ responded the old man, “for I have a pretty good idea. In my grand-daughter, I know there is an attraction that would lure a king from his throne,”’ *“You speak truthfully, colonel; but I have won- dered at your not penetrating a secret connected with my visits at Fairmont Place.” “ Bill—Captain Walton,” said the old man, stern- ly. « “I beg you will not attempt to win Agnes’s love, t is true, 1 owe you much, but as I have told you before, she is betrothed to her cousin Clement Fair- mont whom I have been expecting over from Eng- land the past year, to claim her in marriage. The Fairmonts’ f name shall not perish with old Samuel. But, captain, why do you smile? Do you think me an old fool?—a heartless wretch?” ‘* Not at all, colonel,*’ answered British Bill, “ but I'll soon tell you why—look at that letter,” and from a package that he had brought with him, he took a paper and passed it to Fairmont, he old man looked it over, He at once recognized it being in his own hand-writing, and to his surprise and astonishment, found it was the last letter he had written to Clement Fairmont of Darnly, Yorkshire, England. : A ery burst from the old man's lips, ‘‘ How came you by this?” he asked. “Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed the young royalist, ‘I came by it honorably, since I am Clement Fairmont /"' ‘‘My Redeemer!’’ burst from the colonel’s lips, as he started to his foet, “can this be true, can it, I say?’ if It is a fact, grandfather,” replied the captain; ‘here are papery and documents sufficient to con- vince you of the fact. He produced a number of letters written by the colonel, himself, to Clement Fairmont within the past five years. He also produced some old family records reaching back over a@ period of thirty years. They were arranged in chronological order, and some of the first the old colonel recognized, having assist- ed Clement’s father in writing them before he left England. : It had been eighteen years since the old man had seen Clement Fairmont; and in that time he had grown from a child of a few a to manhood, Of course, he did not recognize him as he bore little re- semblance to the Fairmonts; but the letters and papers placed identity beyond a doubt, and spring- ing to his feet the colonel seized the captain’s hand and in tones full of the deepest emotions, weleomed him to Fairmont Place. And then after the excite- ment had subsided, he exclaimed: ‘Boy, why have you kept your identity so secret?” “My object, you will approve of, I know, grand- father. Knowing that Agnes Melross was to marry aman she had never seen, I was afraid she would talce a dislike to meas that person, and_ profiting by the example of the Oriental Pesos King of Buch- aria, I resolved to gain her affections before I made myself known. fore leaving England, I pur- chased a commission of captain in the royal service, that I might be enabled carry out my purpose without detection; and under the name of Captain Walton, British Bill, and so forth, have Theen known hergaboute: but there is my commission to Clement yaar iy boy!’ exclaimed the old man, taking the paper an glancing over it with a smile of delight, ‘you have taken a wise and judicious plan in bring- ing about the meeting between you and Agnes, and I think you have wen by it. I have been afraid all along that you were winning Agnes’s affections; and felt anxious for your departure from this vicinity on that account. My son, you have the Fairmont ride, foresight and courage. But how long has it een since you landed in America?” ** Bight months ago I landed at New York, and set outin this direction, raising my little company of parrgene as Icame. So you see, now, why I. have wor around Fairmont Place asI have,”’ ‘ ‘* Bravo! my lad; you aré worthy of the name of Fairmont, whose national pride and chiveltic de- votion can be traced back to the gallant knights of the Middie Ages; and—” At this juncture Agnes Melross entered the room, unaware of British Bill’s presence, ** Agnes, ray child,” the old man exclaimed before she bad even time to speak, “I have a happy sur. rise for you. It has just been revealed to me that his gallant young captain is Clement Fairmont. Welcome him, my daughter, to Fairmont Place, hig future home.’ But Agnes did no such athing, She was so thun- derstruck by*the unwelcome news that she turned deadly pale, and staggering, fell In a dead faint at the feet of British Bill. ‘Poor child!” exclaimed the old colonel, “tho joyful news was too much Tor her sensitive nature,” A momentary excitement prevailed. Agnes was conveyed into an ik ania 3 chamber and placed up- on a bed; while old Mrs, lairmont and Kathleen, the housekeeper, busied themselves in restoring her to consciousness, For a while the maiden’s life was despaired of, but no sooner were signs of returning consciousness manifested, than the heartless old Samuel and his grandson returned to the sitting-room to make ar- rangements for the consummation of the latter's marriage with Agnes. ‘it must not be delayed an hour longer than pos- sible, Clement,”’ the old man said. “T bave had a resentiment that Iam not long for this world; and want to see the event, which must needs perpetu- ate the name of the Fairmonts, celebrated afore I die. Suppose we set to-morrow evening for the wedding, my son. That will be far enough off, Iam sure, for all arrangements. I will see Parson Find- ley, our neighbor, and secure his services for the occasion. Heis a dyed-in-the-wool Whig, but then he’ll not hesitate to do anything in his line for a crown or two of silver,” British Bill madé no objection to the old man’s ar- rangements. Onthe contrary, they seemed to please him, for he readily acquiesced in every particular, When Agnes had fully recovered from her swoon, the captain was admitted to her presence, They held a long, and apparently happy, conversation, British Bill spoke of the love he had entertained for her since he first saw her; and while she made no declaration of veciprocal affection, he felt as- sured that she loved him. They talked but little of their future, but when their interview ended, and the captain rose to leave, he eald: “IT shall now go back to camp, Agnes, and by to- morrow evening I hope to see you feeling as though you were supremely happy over the event that is make us man and wife forever.” Agnes colored slightly, and although she made no resistance to his kissing her brow, her heart grew sick with loathing scorn; and the face of Delaware Dick, to whom she had plighted her love, rose be- fore her mental vision, filling her soul with the most torturous emotions, CHAPTER XX. CORNWALLIS INTERVIEWS GERALDINE MELINOTT, Lorp CorRNWALLIS was both mortified and enraged when he discovered that General Washington had escaped from him at Trenton and marched upon Prineeton while he was resting in full confidence of a great and brilliant victory over the:rebel arms, In fact, the sudden and unexpected change in the situation, at once ane him’ upon the defensive—tax- ing his utmost ekill and generalship to prevent his defeat turning into an inglorious panic, As soon as he had discovered Washington's move- ments, Cornwallis abandoned his own camp and marched rapidly toward New Brunswick, fearing lest the baggage and military stores collected there should fail into the hands of the vicorious enemy, He reached Princeton just as Washington wags leav- ing, and as the latter felt that he was in no condition to give battle, owing to two days and nights’ over- work, he crossed the river, destroyed the bridge, and moved rapidly away toward the upper regions ‘of New Jersey, and finally encamped at Morristown. Were his suffering army sought rest and repose, and a respite from the arduous duty of the field to celebrate the victories of Trenton and Princeton, Cornwallis pushed on to New Brunswick, where he went into camp to await further orders from Sir Heury Clinton. He made his own head-quarters in the house of a citizen loyal to the crown, and here, on the day following his arrival, he assembled his generals in council. | The latter were greatly depressed in spit by their recent losses, and threatened recovery of the Jerseys id acagk and after all had freely expressed emselves on the subject, Cornwallis raid: In my opinion, the victories of the rebels are all owing to the perfect and regular system of com- munications kept up between the two armies by their spies, of whom Delaware Dick was the most notorious, And in this ¢fficient branch of the ser- vice they have a decided cdvantage over us. The royal and rebel element in the colonies are one ple; or, in other words, one family between whose members itis hard to discriminate, We have got te - = ——— id : aw