The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure — John Shaqi
The Road to Paris: A Story of AdventureStephens, Robert Neilson
History
The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure
Stephens, Robert Neilson
Adventure stories; Historical fiction; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
From the passengers came cries of "Outrage!" "See the authorities!" and
"Alarm the county!" When others had had their say, Tom MacAlister was
for organizing a pursuing party of the passengers, and was seconded by a
reverend-looking gentleman, who asked if one of the robbers was not
blind of an eye.
"The affair was so quickly over, I for one did not notice any
peculiarities of appearance among them," answered Blagdon.
The young Frenchman, standing with his sister at the edge of the road,
now spoke, in perfectly good English: "One of them called another Fagan,
in ordering him to keep quiet; and said 'That's right, Jonathan,' to one
who said we shouldn't delay in hope of assistance, as they would shoot
us at the first sound of wheels or horses coming this way."
"That makes it certain," said the clerical-looking man; "they are the
Pine Robbers, as we call them in our part of Monmouth County, where they
are a great curse. It is surprising, though, that they should venture so
far inland and from their burrows in the sand-hills by the swamps near
the coast. I can be of use in tracking them, as I live at Shrewsbury,
which is not far from the swamps they inhabit and the groggeries they
resort to."
But the officer, learning from further talk that proper steps for the
recovery of the property might require several days, and yet fail, said
the attempt was not to be thought of; that the horses were the only
considerable loss, as his party had relied on money to be taken up in
New York, and that therefore they could do no more than take places in
the stage-coach for that city.
As the inside places were all filled, and one of them would be required
for the girl, Dick was out in the road in an instant, blushingly
blundering out to the Frenchman an offer of his seat to the lady, with
the declaration that he would ride outside,--which in those days meant
on the flat roof of the coach. The Frenchman bowed thanks and held out
his hand to lead his sister to the coach; but she stood reluctant, and
said:
"But the portrait, Gerard!" As she spoke her eyes became moist.
"I fear we must lose it, Catherine," said Gerard, sadly.
"If I can be of any service," said Dick, speaking as calmly as his
heartbeats would let him, and meeting with hot cheeks the first look the
girl's fine eyes ever cast upon him.
"I thank you," said Gerard, "but I fear nothing can be done. My sister
speaks of a miniature portrait of our mother, who is dead. One of the
robbers, the one called Jonathan, seeing the chain by which it was
suspended from her neck, tore it from her and carried it away."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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