United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
Hiram made no reply; but having satisfied himself there were no enemies
in the immediate vicinity he strode on in advance swiftly, carrying the
oaken stick on his arm as if it were a musket, and I could almost fancy
from his bearing that he had in mind some purpose which he would strive
earnestly to carry out, even though our preparations were not completed.
That this purpose was the rescue of Archie, I need not say, for just
then we had none other, and I trembled with fear at the thought that we
might succeed in freeing the dear lad only to find ourselves pursued,
captured and clapped into prison with him, where we would be powerless
either to aid the Cause or to work to his advantage.
Once at the corner of Hanover street it was possible for me to find the
way through gardens and waste land until we were come to Brattle street
church, from whence the journey to the prison must be made in the open.
The clouds had gathered so quickly that by this time they veiled the
stars until one could hardly see ten paces in advance, therefore we had
little hesitation in going boldly to that place where we counted on
meeting Harvey Pearson, nor did we count in vain. The lad came out from
between two buildings as we approached, and seizing me by the arm, led
us into his hiding place where we might talk, if so be we spoke in
whispers, without danger of being overheard.
"Archie is on the alert, and expects our coming," he said guardedly.
"Within ten minutes have I clambered up until getting a hold on the
window ledge where I could tap the glass, and he returned the signal,
therefore you need not linger long if you would have speech with him."
"There is no reason why we shouldn't wait here to get our breath," Hiram
said in an odd tone. "I'm thinking it won't be a waste of time, and half
an hour more or less can make little difference to him since he must
perforce stay where he is."
"How could you tap on the glass?" I asked of Harvey. "Are there no bars
outside that window?"
"Ay, and in plenty; iron bars standing less than six inches apart; but
there was room to thrust my fingers between and thus come at the
glass."
I turned suddenly to lay my hand upon the oaken stick which Hiram had
been carrying, understanding now for the first time to what purpose he
intended using it, and feeling, rather than seeing, my gesture, he
whispered:
"Ay, lad, you have caught the idea at last. With this we should be able
to make short work of one or two of those bars, providing we are not
interrupted, and if so be there is thunder enough to drown whatsoever of
noise may be made."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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