we were all in danger of being arrested for conspiring against the king."
"Ho, ho!" the old negro laughed. "Why, honey, you don' 'spects Uncle 'Rasmus is gwine ter git his brack head inter trubble arter all dese yere years, does yer?"
"But we knew you were counting on slipping through the lines, and if you'd been caught in anything of the kind – "
"Did you eber try fo' to ketch a 'possum, honey, when he kind'er had a inklin' you was arter him? I 'lows Uncle 'Rasmus is gettin' mighty ole; but he ain' so feeble yet but he kin hol' his own agin dese yere red-coated sogers. Why bress yer soul, honey, I des walked right in like I was comin' home, an' don' 'low one o' 'em knowed dat a wuffless ole nigger was anywhar nigh him."
Little Frenchie had taken the precaution to close the door immediately after our entrance, and while Uncle 'Rasmus and I were talking with no little show of excitement, the lad moved here and there, pulling a ragged curtain in front of one window, or closing the shutter of another, so that we might not attract attention from any passers-by, although this cabin of old Mary's was in what might well be called the outskirts of the village, where was little danger many people would come our way.
"Tell us how you got in here, Uncle 'Rasmus?" I asked, for after seeing the long line of sentinels which guarded the half-formed entrenchments, it seemed to me little less than marvelous that one could have made his way through without being challenged.
"I des walked right trou, honey. Course I wasn' no ways tryin' to 'tract 'tention; but kind'er waited for a chance when dere wasn' too man sogers 'round. It was easy, chillun, an' I'd bin out ob dis yere house long ago huntin' for Silber Heels, ef it hadn' been dat I was tryin' to wait till you done come."
Then Uncle 'Rasmus insisted on knowing how my mother had received the news that we were bent on making a visit to York Town.
When Saul had told him all that had been said and done on the plantation after his departure, the old negro suggested that we lounge around the village, following the example of the curious visitors, lest some one note the fact that we were apparently taking council together, and it would not seem reasonable we would willingly remain with an old negro shut up in such a wretched cabin, when there was so much to be seen on the outside.
In view of all that occurred before this day was come to a close, it may be well that I describe the hovel which we called old Mary's cabin, even though there was nothing in or around it worthy of particular notice under ordinary circumstances. The fact that later it served us much as a citadel in the midst of our enemies, who were in turn surrounded by their foes, renders it necessary I go into detail concerning it for the better understanding of what happened later.
An ordinary hut built of logs, perhaps twenty feet square, with a door made of puncheon planks, by which I mean planks that have been hewn out of the log with an axe rather than cut by a saw, and two windows, in one of which four panes of glass were broken, but both protected by shutters which swung from the outside. The building consisted of one room on the floor where the occupants were supposed to eat, sleep and live, while above was a loft formed by the roof, and approached through a scuttle situated directly opposite the door, at the rear of the hovel.
To gain access to this scuttle one was forced to climb a sort of ladder which had been formed by nailing strips of wood against the logs, and, as I learned before we were come to an end of using this cabin as a place of refuge, it was by no means a simple task to ascend, even for lads who were accustomed to swarming up trees, or shinning the slender masts of our river craft.
The loft was, as I have said, formed by the roof, and its floor, like the one below, was made of puncheon planks, yet not so closely laid together but that there were crevices through which one's foot might slip if he walked carelessly. At either end small holes had been cut between the logs, perhaps four or five inches square, which served as windows, although there was nothing to prevent the wind or the rain from entering.
I judged that when old Mary lived in the place these apertures were closed, most like with boards, or perhaps with cloth, but now they stood naked, and the wind, coming in across the river, found direct vent through the attic, thus insuring good ventilation if not comfort.
On the outside, and at the rear, was a chimney built of sticks and clay, with a hole cut through the logs near the floor of the lower room, where was a fireplace of stones laid up with mortar, and the inside of this rude chimney was plentifully bedaubed with mud to the depth of two or three inches, as a safeguard against fire.
Just outside the front door, not more than ten feet away, was a small well, which had once been stoned up properly, but was now fallen into such a state of decay that I questioned whether the water in it could be wholesome. At the time this seemed of but little moment, for it would not be a great task to bring from the river all the water one would need to drink, and I failed to give heed to the fact that if we were ever to use this cabin as a place of refuge the hour might come when we would suffer from thirst.
After Uncle 'Rasmus had taken care of the provisions we brought, by stowing them in a poor apology for a cupboard near the side of the fireplace, he insisted that we lads go out and look about the town, claiming that the time might come when it would be much to our advantage to know where this regiment or that legion was quartered, and insisting also that we must show ourselves as curious, rather than hugging the hovel so closely.
I was eager to make my way toward that part of the village where the horses of Simcoe's Rangers were stabled, hoping I might get a glimpse of poor little Silver Heels, and, therefore, not averse to following the old negro's advice.
Uncle 'Rasmus announced that it was his intention to remain close within the building, as if it was not possible for him to move around, and this was necessary if we lads counted on making his helplessness an excuse for coming frequently to the town of York.
It was as if Saul had determined on this day to be as disagreeable as possible. As I have already set down, he reproached us with indolence when he first came up in the early morning, and grumbled as we came toward the village because little Frenchie insisted on walking leisurely, lest suspicion might be aroused. While we remained in old Mary's cabin with Uncle 'Rasmus, he cried out loudly at our wasting time when we might accomplish something, although the lad knew full well that much time must be spent, and many plans made, before we could hope even to set about our purpose.
He was the first to leave the cabin when Uncle 'Rasmus insisted that we play the part of curious ones, and pressed on ahead as if he would go his own way, leaving us behind, until Pierre said to me in a whisper:
"It is not well that we separate – at least, not until we have made some agreement as to a rendezvous later."
Then it was that I quickened my pace to overtake Saul, who had just disappeared around the corner of that shop wherein a man named Bemis, who had lately come from Baltimore, displayed stuffs for dresses and gewgaws of all kinds intended to attract the attention of the women and girls.
I was for going directly to where the Rangers were quartered, and therefore felt not a bit hurt that my cousin should start off by himself without giving heed to our wishes, and, finding it was impossible to overtake him at any ordinary pace, I quickened to a run. In consequence I turned the corner of the shop rapidly, coming directly upon, and almost over-running, a lad who had halted Saul, and was engaged with him in angry altercation.
While one might have counted ten I was too nearly dazed with having come into violent contact with the fellow, to fully realize the situation, and then a cry of mingled surprise and dismay burst from my lips, for I found myself clutching and being clutched by none other than Horry Sims.
Even then no great harm might have been done had it not been for Saul's ill temper. Little Frenchie, seeing that we had thus inadvertently come upon the lad whom we knew to be an enemy to us as well as a traitor to his country, would have treated the matter as a pleasing incident, and began by saying with a friendly shrug of his shoulders and a wave of the hands, that he was glad we had found a friend in the town because we were feeling like cats in a strange garret, when Saul interrupted him as he cried angrily:
"There is no reason, Pierre Laurens, why you should put on a false face. You know full well, after all that happened yesterday when this little villain sent the Britishers to take Fitzroy's