Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 39, Number 93, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 July 1907 — THE SPY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE SPY

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER

A STORir OF THE REVOLUTION

CHAPTER XXIV. When Miss Peyton and her nieoe first framed the escape of Captain Wharton, it was with difficulty they could qredit their senses. They both relied so implicitly on the success of DunWoodle's exerfiofas, that they thought the act, on the jwtrt 'oftheir retatfre. extremely <ient; but it eras now too late to mend it. While listening to the conversation of the officers, both were struck with the increased danger of Henry’s situation, if recaptured, and they trembled to think of 4he great exertions that would be made to accomplish this object. Miss Peyton consoled herself, and endeavored to cheer her were, with the probability that the fugitires would pursue their coarse with unTemrtting diligence, so that they might reach the Neutral Gronnd before the horse would carry down the tidings of their tight. The absence of Dunwoodie seemed to her all-important, and the artless lady was anxiously devising some project that might detain her kinsman and thus give her nephew the longest possible time. But very different were the reflections of iFrances. She felt certain that, instead Of flying to the friendly forces below, her brother would be taken to some mysterious hiding place to pass the night. ~±\ Frances and her aunt held & long and animated discussion by themselves, when the good spinster reluctantly yielded to the representation of her niece, and, folding her in her arms, she kissed her cold eheck, and fervently blessing her, allowed her to depart on an errand of fraternal love. The night had set in dark and chilling as Frances moved through the little garden that lay behind the farm house which had been her brother’s prison, and took her way to the foot of the mountain. Young, active and impelled by her generous motive, she moved up the hill with elastic steps, and very soon emerged from the cover of the woods into an open space •f more level ground, that had evidently been cleared of its Timber for the purpose of cultivation.

The white tents of the militia were stretched in regular lines immediately beneath her. The light was shining in the window of her aunt, who, Frances easily •fancied, was watching the mountain, racked with all the anxiety she might be supposed to feel for her niece. Lanterns were playing about in the stable yard, where she knew the horses of the dragoons were kept, and believing them to be preparing for their night march, she .renewed her toil. Our heroine had to ascend more than a quarter of a mile farther, although she had already conquered two-thirds of the height of thr mountain. But she was aow without a path or any guide to direct her in her course. Fortunately, the hill was conical, like most of the mountains in that range, and by advancing upward. she was certain of at length reaching the pinnacle. Nearly an hour did she struggle with the numerous difficulties that she was obliged to overcome, when, having been repeatedly exhausted with J»er efforts and, in several instances, in great danger from falls, she succeeded in gaining the small piece of "table land on the summit. Faint with her exertions, which had been unusually severe for so slight a frame, *he sank ou a rock to recover her ■trength and fortitude. A few moments sufficed for this purpose. All of the neighboring hills were distinctly visible by the aid of the moon, and Frances was able, where she stood, to trace the route «f the highway fbom the plains into the mountains. 11 The chilling air sighed through the leafless branches of the gnarled and crooked •aks, as, with a step so light as hardly to rustle the dry leaves on which she trod, Fra nees moved: forwar<TTo" tfiat'Pfttt es the hill where she expected to find tonic secluded habitation; but nothing could she discern that in the least resembled a dwelling of any sort. In vain she examined every recess of the rocks, or inquisitively explored every part of the summit that she thought could hold the tenement. No hut. nor any vestige of a human being, could slid trace. The idea of her solitude struck on the terrified mind of the affrighted girl, and approaching to the edge of a shelving rock, she bent forward to gaze on the signs" of life in the vale, when a ray of keen light dazaled her eyes, and a warm air diffused hself over her whole frame. Recovering •from her surprise. Frances looked on the ledge beneath her, and at once perceived that she stood directly over the object of her search. A hole through its roof oftforded a passage to the smoke, which, as it blew aside, showed her a clear and cheerful fire crackling and snapping on a rude hearth of stone. The approach to the front of the hut was by a winding path around the point of the rock on which she stood, and by this she advanced to it* door. ) Three sides of this singular edifice, if such it could be called, were composed of logs laid alternately on each other, to a little more than the height of a man and the fourth was formed by the rock against which it leaned. The roof to its eaves, the fissures between the logs had been stuffed with clay, which in many places had fallen out, and dried leaves were made use of as a substitute to keep ,*ut the wind. A single window of four ,panes of glass was in front, but a board carefully closed it, in such a manner as ito emit no light Trom the fire within. At■tpr pausing soma time to view this singularly constructed hiding place, for such Trances well knew it to be, she applied her eye to a crevice to examine the inaide. The blazing fire of dry wood made ghe interior light enough to read by. In •ne corner lay a bed of straw, with a pair of blankets thrown carelessly over it. 'Against the walls and rock were suspended from pegs forced into the crevices, Various garments, and such as were apparently fitted for all ages and conditions, and for either sex. British and American aniforma bung peaceably by the side of aach other; and on the peg that supported • gown of striped calico, anch as was the IMI country wear, was also depended a

well powdered wig; in short, the attire was numerous, and as various as if a whole parish were to be equipped from this one wardrobe. In the angle against the rock was an open cupboard, that bold a plate or two, a mug, and the remains of some broken •meal. — Rnfwv-the tiro wan a table-made of rough boards. A book that, by its size and shape, appeared to be a Bible, was lying on the table, unopened. But it was the occupant of the hut in whom Frances was chiefly interested. This was a man, setting on the stool, vyith his head Tean-~ ing on his hand, 'deeply occupied in examining some open papers. On the table lay a pair of curiously and richly mounted te>r-*-mauV ptsfotsT and tlic bajjpdle oT a sheathed rapier, of exquisite workmanship, protruded from between the legs of the gentleman, one of whose hands carelessly rested on its guard. The tall stitwre- of -tbie - unexpected tenant of the hut, and his form, much more athletic than that of either Harvey or her brother, told Frances that it was neither of those she sought. She stood, earnestly looking through the crevice as the stranger moved his hand from before his eyes, and raised his face, apparently in deep musing; Frances instantly recognized the benevolent and strongly marked, but composed, features of Harper. All that Dunwoodie had said of his power and disjwsition; al! that he had himself promised ber brotber. and nil the i-onfidenee that had been created by his dignified and paternal manner, rushed across the mind of Frances, who threw open the door of the hut, and falling at his feet, clasped his knees with her arms, as she cried: “Save him —save him—save my brother; remember your promise, and save him!” Harper had risen as the door opened, and there was a slight movement of one hand toward his pistols; but it was cool,

and instantly checked. He raised the hood of the cardinal, which had fallen over her features, and exclaimed, with some uneasiness: “Miss Wharton! But you cannot, be alone?” “There is none here but my God and you; and by his sacred name, I conjure you to remember your promise, and save my hrother!"— ■■■; - -r' ■ — Harper gently raised her from her knees and placed her on the stool, begging her at the same time to be composed, and to acquaint him with the nature of her errand. This- Frances instantly did. “Miss Wharton,” said Harper, “that I bear no mean part in the unhappy struggle between England and America, it might now be useless to deny. You owe your, brother’s escape, this night, to my knowledge of his innocence, and the remembrance of my word. Major Dunwoodi e is mistaken when he says that I might openly have procured his pardon. I now, indeed, can control bis fate, and I pledge to you a word which has some influence with Washington, that means shall be taken to prevent his recapture. But from yon, also. I exact a promise that this interview, and all that has passed between us. remain confined to your own bosom, until >ou have my permission to speak upon the subject.” France* gave the desired assurance, and he continued: - “The peddler and your brother will soon be here, but I must not be seen by the royal officer, o* the life of Birch might be the forfeiture.” “Never!" cried Frances, ardently; “Henry could never be so base as to betray the man who saved him.” “It is no childish game that we are now playing. Miss Wharton. Men's lives and fortunes li:m*( upon slender threads, and nothing must be left to accident that can be guarded against. Did Sir Henry Clinton know that the peddler had communion with me, and under such' circumstances, the life of the miserable man would be taken instantly; therefore, as you value human blood, or remember the rescue of your brother, be prudent and be silent. Communicate what you know to them both, and urge them to instant departure. If they cad reach the last pickets of our -rmy before morniea. it shall be my care that there are none to intercept them. There is better work for Major Dunwoodie than to be exposing the life of his friend." While Harper was speaking, he carefully rolled up the map' he had been studying and placed it, together with sundry papers that were also open, into his pocket. He was still occupied in this manner when the voice of the peddler was heard directly over their heads. “Stand further this way, Captain Wharton, and you con see the tents in the uioonshis*. But let them mount and ride; I have a neat here that will hold us both, and we will go in at our leisure/’ Harper pressed his finger oa his lip to

remind Frances of her, promise, and, taking his pistols and hat.- rcttrcd dellbfraPTy te a far corner of the lint, where, lifting several articles of dress, he entered a recess in th" rocl; and letting them fall again, was hid from view. The sunrise of Henry and the peddler, on entering and finding Frances in possesion of lii ' hut: may be easily imaginrd. Without waiting for explanations ~OT querffions, the waim hearted girl flew into the arms of her brother, and gave a vent to her emotions in tears. But the peddler seemed struck with very different feelings. His first look was at the fir' n ; lie then drew op> n a small drawer of the table, and looked a little ahtrmcd^at.finding it empty. \ “Are you alone, be asked, in a quick voice. “As you see, Mr. Birch,” said Frances, turning an expressive 1 glance toward the secret cavern 1 “But" why and wherefore are you here?’ exclaimed her astonished brother; "and how kriew you of this place at all?” Frances entered at once into a brief detail of what had occurred at the house since their departure, and the motives wbtehxindneed hto seek thpin. The peddler, watching his opportunity, unseen by Henry, slipped behind _the screen and entered the cavern. Frances and her brother! who thought his companion had passed, through the door, continued conversing on the latter’s situation for several minutes, when the former urged the necessity of expedition on his part, in order to precede Dttnwoodie, from whose use of duty they knew' they had no, escape. The 'cafSTfi Iff ~ took out his pocketbook and wrote a few lines with liis pencil; then folding the . paper, he handed it to his sister. H__ “Frances,” he said, “you have this night proved yourself to be-an incomparable woman. As~jyou love-me, give that unopened to Dunwoodie, and remember that two hours may save my life.” “I will —I will ; but why delay? Why not fly, and improve these previous moments?” “Your sister stays Well. Captain WUar ton,” exdaimed Harvey, who had re-en-tered unseen; “we must go at once. Here is food to eat, as we travel.” “But who is to see this fair creature to safety?” cried the captain. “I can never desert my,sister in such a place as this.” “Leave me! leave me!” said Frances; “I can descend as I came up. Do not doubt me; you know not my courage,nor my .strength.” “Captain Wharton,” said Birch, throwingopeßTTdre wttb--your own lives, if you have many to sj)are. I have but one. and must nurse it. Do I go alone, or not?” “Go, go, dear Henry,” said Frances, embracing him; “go; remember our father; remember 1 Sarah.” Stic waited not- for his answer, but gently forced biin through the door and closed it with her own hands. Immpdiately after the noise of their departure had deased, Harper reappeared. He took tjhemrm of Frances in silence, anil led her from the hut. The way seemed familiar to him; for ascending to the lodge above them, he led his companion across the table land tenderly, 1 pointing out the little difficulties in thefr route and cautioning her against injury; Harper finally turned, and, taking the hand of Frances, spoke as follows: \ “You have this night saved your brother, Miss Wharton. It would not be proper for me to explain why there are limits to my ability to serve him ; but if you can detain the horse for two hours, he is assuredly safe. After what you have already done. I can believe you equal to any duty. God has denied to me children, young lady; but if it had boon his blessed will that, my marriage should not have been childless, such a treasure ns yourself would I have asked from his mercy. But you are my child; all who dwell in this broad lqnil are my ehildren, and my care; and take the blessing of one who hopes yet to meet you in happier days.” \Vondoriug -who this unknown hut powerful friend of her brother could be, Frances glided across the fields, and using _ due precautions in approaching ihe dwelling, regained her residence undiscovered and iu safety. (To be continued.! L:

"SAVE HIM, SAVE MY BROTHER!"