I drew rein instinctively; but in that particular frame of mind,
I don't think I should have turned back, if the gates of the old Capitol
had stood open across the road. So I jogged steadily on, trying to look
as innocently unconscious as possible. Seven or eight horses were
picketed to some posts outside what I conclude was a whisky store; the
troopers were all comforting themselves within: the intense cold had
probably made the solitary sentinel drowsy, for his head drooped low on
his breast, and he never lifted it as I rode past. I could not attempt
to make a run of it, so I did not quicken my speed, when the danger was
left behind: indeed I halted more than once, listening for the sound of
hoofs in my rear, in which case I meant to have made a plunge into the
black woods on either side, so as to let the pursuit pass. Hearing
nothing, I dismounted again, and strode on rather more cheerfully.
The roan was not more glad than his rider, when we groped our way up the
lane, leading through fields to Symonds' homestead. The good wife came
out quickly, in answer to my hail, her husband being absent, as usual.
"Oh, Major," she said, "I can't say how glad I am to see you. Shipley's
so anxious about you: he hasn't been gone half an hour."
"And the brown horse?" I broke in.
Pages:
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138