United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
It must be that Horry Sims had fully believed the time was come when he
could bargain with us to his own advantage, for straightway I ceased
speaking he flew into a rage, the first real signs of anger he had shown
since we made him prisoner, and began to threaten as to what his people
would do with us when my Lord Cornwallis had driven back the forces
under General Lafayette.
He continued in this strain mayhap while one could have counted twenty,
and then Pierre, quietly laying his hand across the creature's mouth,
said with a laugh:
"You are putting too much dependence upon the future, Master Sims, when
you reckon time by a victory to be gained by the Britishers. This
particular portion of the King's army is in a small hole, from which
there can be no escape, and within very many days you and your Tory
friends will be striving to curry favor with those whom you now call
rebels."
Horry Sims could make no reply to this remark, for the very good reason
that Pierre held him dumb, and again we fell into painful silence,
picturing in our minds the possible fate of Saul, until little Frenchie
said in a tone of hopefulness:
"Why may we not rid ourselves of this fellow entirely? While we hold him
he is a menace, and but for the necessity of keeping watch over the cur
we would be at liberty to move around at will."
"But how _can_ we rid ourselves of him?" I asked impatiently, forgetting
for the instant that this little lad from New Orleans, so gentle and so
girlish in his ways, was full of resources at such a time.
"It should not be difficult to smuggle him through the lines during the
night, and by carrying the fellow to General Lafayette's army I have no
doubt the officers would hold him fast for us, because of understanding
what might be the Jerseyman's fate if he was allowed to go free. You
would only be forced to tell your father the story, Fitz, in order for
him to guard the scoundrel as he would guard something very precious."
On the instant my heart leaped with joy, for verily did this plan seem
to promise both success and relief, and without looking ahead to the
possibilities I said promptly, as if it were in our power to do
whatsoever we pleased:
"He shall be carried to Williamsburg! Once there I'll answer for it he
has no chance to join his friends who claim to love the king so dearly."
Then Pierre and I set about discussing the best course to pursue while
leaving the town of York, as if we would set off that very night, when
Uncle 'Rasmus put an end to the hoping and planning, at least so far as
the present was concerned, by saying dreamily:
"I'se 'lowin', chillun, dat you won' fin' it so ter'ble easy to get out
ob de lines dis yere night. Dere's sumfin in de air dat's trubblin'
Marse Cornwallis, an' you can be mighty sure dese yere sogers am keepin'
dere eyes wide open."
Surprised at thus learning that the old negro knew so much of what was
going on outside, I asked irritably why he had formed such an opinion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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