The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
History
The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Vermont -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
This appeal, however, which was rather acted than spoken, was unheeded,
or came too late; for, at that instant, the chafing and maddened horses
dashed furiously forward, directly over the exposed corner of the young
man's vehicle, which, under the iron-bound feet of the fiercely-treading
animals, and the heavy sleigh runners that followed, came down with a
crash to the ground, leaving him barely time to clear himself from the
wreck, by leaping forward into the snow. Startled by the noise behind
him, the frightened pony made a sudden but vain effort to spring forward
with the still connected remains of the jumper, which were, at the
instant confined down by the passing runners of the large sleigh; when
snorting and wild with desperation, he reared himself upright on his
hinder legs, and fell over backwards, striking, with nearly the whole
weight of his body, upon his doubled neck, which all saw at a glance was
broken by the fall.
With eyes flashing with indignation, young Woodburn bounded forward to
the head of the aggressing team, boldly seized the nearest horse by his
nostrils and bridle curb, and, in spite of his desperate rearing and
plunging, under the rapidly applied whip of the enraged driver, soon
succeeded, by daring and powerful efforts, in bringing him and his mate
to a stand.
“Let go there, fellow, on your peril!” shouted Peters, choking with rage
at his defeat in attempting to ride over and escape his bold antagonist.
“Not till I know what all this means, sir!” retorted Woodburn, with
unflinching spirit.
“Detain us if you dare, you young ruffian!” exclaimed the sheriff,
protruding his harsh visage from one side of the sleigh. “Begone! or I
will arrest you in the king's name, sir!”
“You will show your warrant for it first, Mr. Sheriff,” replied the
former, turning to Patterson with cool disdain. “I have nothing to
do with you, sir; but I hold this horse till the outrage I have just
received is atoned for, or at least explained.”
“My good friend,” interposed Jones, in a respectful manner, “you must
not suppose we have designedly caused your disaster. Our horses, which
are high-mettled, as you see, took a sudden start, and the mischief was
done before they could be turned or checked.”
“Now, let go that horse, will you, scoundrel?” again exclaimed Peters,
still chafing with anger, but evidently disturbed and uneasy under the
cold, searching looks of the other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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