“I’ll leave that for you; it won’t pay to hamper myself with so much luggage, an’ a stout club will serve me better if I should come to close quarters with a Tory--I’m not afraid of meetin’ any lobster-backs on the road I shall travel.” Then Abe searched here and there until he found a cudgel such as promised to serve his purpose, and nothing more was said for so long a time that I was like to have cried aloud with impatience, when Seth Hartley spoke: “I’m allowin’, lad, that it’s time for you to set off. Don’t be rash if you meet with enemies; but remember that it’s better to surrender than be put out of the fight forever.” “I’m not minded to be taken prisoner that such as he may crow over me,” Abe replied in what a stranger might have believed was a surly tone. “His crowin’ can do you no real harm, while by compassin’ your own death you would be deprivin’ the Cause you serve of a pair of arms that may yet strike many a sound blow in behalf of the colonists.” It sounded strange to hear a Britisher give such advice; but Seth was already considerably more than half an American, and I doubted not that he would soon be ready to cast in his fortunes with those of us who were battling against the king. Abraham’s preparations for the perilous journey consisted simply in casting off the bonds from Luther Stedman’s legs, and when this had been done he aided the Tory to regain his feet, saying meanwhile: “You an’ I need to have a fair understandin’ one with the other, for the chances are much in favor of our meetin’ death in company. I want you to bear well in mind that I count on knockin’ you in the head with this club, rather than allow an escape. I am not overly eager to have you live, yet haven’t the heart to kill in cold blood. If, however, you should make any attempt to give me the slip, or try to create such a disturbance as would give information of your whereabouts, I shall have all the excuse needed, an’ will slay you with a right good will. You are to walk at your best pace, save when I give the word to slow down or halt, an’ then it will be safest for you to obey the first command, for you’ll never be able to hear a second. Now move on, an’ for your own sake don’t let the grass grow under your feet.” I had thought Abraham would say some word of farewell; but when Luther meekly yet quickly obeyed the command, he followed straight behind the prisoner’s heels up the hill, never once turning his head to look behind. “Well, that’s an odd way of leavin’ us!” Sam exclaimed in sorrow and surprise. “He might at least have said good-bye, since the chances are we may never meet again.” “He has done wisely,” Seth Hartley replied. “At such a time as this none but the foolish take the risk of unnervin’ themselves by words of partin’. He has started, an’ God grant he go through in safety, for a right good comrade has he ever shown himself to be.”