“Henry arrested for stealing!” exclaimed the young soldier. He could scarcely believe that he heard aright.
“Sorry for you, young man, but it’s the truth,” was the reply of the messenger, and he gave what few particulars he knew. He had left Quebec before Henry ran away, so knew nothing of this new turn of affairs.
It was to Barringford that the messenger told how Henry was in danger of hanging. “General Murray is bound that looting shall stop,” said he. “So some time ago he had notices posted up giving warning that a thief caught in the act would be hanged.”
“I’ll wager my life on it, Henry aint no thief,” said Barringford warmly. “Thet boy is as honest as the day is long.”
“I know nothing of that. He is now in prison, or, for all I know, he may be dead.”
Barringford considered it his duty to tell Dave of the fate that overhung his cousin, and the two talked the matter over for the best part of a night.
“If I could get to Quebec I’d go,” declared Dave. “Perhaps I could do something—if—if——” He wanted to say if it was not too late but the words stuck in his throat.
“Say the word an’ I’ll go with ye, Dave,” responded Barringford. “Thar don’t seem to be no ust o’ stayin’ here.”
“Can we make it, Sam? Quebec is a long distance from here.”
“I aint afraid to try it, Dave. I allow as we are goin’ to have a spell o’ good weather.”