Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

PLAYING of cheering. The rebels were replying in kind to the British taunts of the morning; the buglers were sounding the victorious call of the fox chase. After an hour of bustle and hilarious confusion about the place, he heard horses entering the yard, and the name of Wash- ington was roared out by a hundred hoarse voices. David sat down .on his keg and shook his head in puzzled be- wilderment. It was too preposterous for belief, but of a certainty there had been a great battle, and it seemed that General Washington had won the day. A soldier came into the cell as darkness fell and put down a piece of bread and a jug of fresh water. ‘““T have heard sounds of great rejoic- ing,” ‘David said to him quietly. ‘ Did your troops succeed very brilliantly to- day?” The soldier grinned, but leered at the prisoner with a contemptuous air. “The king’s men will not stop running this fortnight, I’m thinking,” he said. “ Certain it is, they won’t come this way soon again.” David was eager fer more detailed in- formation, but the man turned about abruptly and left him alone again. The bread was dry, but David was hungry and he ate it all, washed down with hearty drafts of the cool water. It grew dark, and he had no light. He was cramped from sitting so long on the keg, and when it seemed that he was to have no bed or blanket, he took off his full- skirted coat, spread it.on the dusty floor, and stretched himself wearily upon it. A little later came a-more considerate visitor. It was the captain who had taken him prisoner, and he brought a small candle-lantern, a coarse blanket, and a porringer of stewed beans. “Here, Mr. Treves,” he said, not un- kindly, “ I’m commander of the guard for the night, and I’ve no wish that my pris- oners should suffer. You can be a bit thankful to his excellency, too, for he’s in high good humor ever the victory and THE MAN. 483 he’s given orders that all prisoners shall be treated kindly—even spies! ”’ ‘“T shall try to prove to your satisfac- tion that I’m far from being the latter, captain,” returned the prisoner. The officer smiled, but shook his head. “T wish you luck, sir,” he said, ‘“‘ but Y’d not be in your shoes for anything I can think on. You'll appear before the court martial to-morrow, I believe, and the—the execution of the sentence is us- ually carried out the same day.” ‘Come, you’re rather gloomy for a night visitor!” David exclaimed, half facetiously. ‘I should dislike to think that to-morrow would end for me before sunset. I can’t think that I’m such a desperate enemy to your cause.” | “The one little paper that I found on you convicts you, sir,” said the officer soberly. ‘‘I don’t see what could save you, short of a blessed miracle.” To his surprise, David almost smiled. He was thinking of the faithful Adrian as a “ blessed miracle,” and his mind was not disturbed by misgivings or by the gloomy predictions of his jailer. “Come, come, captain,” said David, “don’t let my plight cast a gloom over you. I’m an optimist by nature, and I shall not give up hope until I feel the noose. As a loyal subject of King George I really should be most dejected over the ill fortune to his arms to-day. Believe me, I can’t comprehend it! I thought that Sir William had struck at last with an army that could do no less than overwhelm you.” The captain’s eyes sparkled in the lantern-light. “Tt ‘Il take more than mere numbers to overwhelm us, Mr. Treves,” he said. “They crowed too early in the day, and they paid dearly for it. The heights around Bloomingdale are littered with red- coats to-night—poor fellows that’ll never fight again. We fought ’em for two hours running, hand to hand, sir, in a buckwheat field just above the Hudson River bank,* and then we chased ’em! They’re comicloool C©