“Piper, you are as brave as a lion, and as strong as a horse, der doubtless; but your tongue may ditter need training, for all that. Still, as you mean right, and will probably learn to bridle that unruly member only by practice, I will, for once, put you to the trial. Bart has gone a spy to the British camp. Though Harry, in his despair, would for a while believe nothing but that she was der dead, or worse, yet, as I and others, putting all things together, hoped and reasoned ditter different, in part, and thought she might not have been killed there, but retaken; and, for fear of pursuit, hurried off directly to the British, he concluded to despatch Bart to his friend Allen, of the Council, to take advice, and then proceed in some disguise or other, right into the lion's den—ascertain whether the girl was there—and, after ditter learning what he could about the enemy's movements, return with the news.”
“Well, I'll be chunked if the project wan't a bold one! But if any creature on earth can carry it out, it is Bart; and he will, unless they get word from this quarter that such a fellow is among them. Ah! I now see the need of a close mouth on the subject, and will keep one, thanking you kindly, Dunning, for your caution and confidence.”
“It will be all right, I presume, Bill, now you perceive Bart's neck may depend on your ditter discretion. But who have we there?” added the speaker, pointing down the road towards the woods.
While Dunning and Piper were thus engrossed in conversation, two men, on foot, had emerged from the woods and approached within a hundred yards, before attracting the attention of the former. They were without coats, or in their shirt sleeves, as, in common parlance, is the phrase for such undress; and, having handkerchiefs tied round their heads, and carrying in their hands rough sticks, picked up by the way-side, for canes, they presented an appearance, as they leisurely came along up the ascending road, with occasional glances back towards the woods, that left Dunning and his companion wholly in doubt, while attempting to decide who or what they were.
“Now, who knows,” said the wary hunter, “but they may be der tory spies, hanging round the skirts of Stark's army, and intending soon to be off cross-lots to the British, to report his progress. I'll ditter banter them a little, at all hazards, before we let 'em pass.”
But as the strangers drew near, their appearance grew less and less like that of the ordinary footpads for whom they had been taken; and there was something in their bearing which considerably shook, though it did not wholly alter, the hunter's intention to banter them. One was a strongly-built, broad-chested man, with a high head, hardy brown features, and a countenance betokening much cool energy and decision of character. The other was rather less stocky, and slightly taller, of quicker motions, but withal a prompt, resolute-looking person.
“Well, my friends,” said the former, coming up and pausing before the expectant Rangers, with an air that seemed to challenge conversation, “this is Coffin's tavern here ahead, I suppose. Will the captain be pleased, think ye, to see a little company about this time?”
“Der yes,” replied Dunning, eyeing the speaker with a curious, half doubtful and half quizzing expression. “Yes, if of the right sort, he wont ditter cry, I reckon. But the captain is sometimes rather particular—for instance, if you should happen to be tories——”
“Tories!—do we look like tories?” demanded the former glancing to his companion with a droll, surprised look.
“Why der no,” replied the hunter, a little abashed, “I ditter think not.”