“These be the chances of war, my lack-beard. If my good soldiers need cattle, or food of other kind, and you will not give it to them, egad! they must steal it! Best curb your uncouth tongue and be gone!”
“Then, by my lack of beard!” quoth Skinner Smith, nettled—he was an impudent young scamp, and feared no one—“‘What is sauce for the goose, is sauce for the gander!’ If these be the ‘chances of war,’ look well to that fine horse of yours! I warn you fairly, others can be cattle stealers, too! I warn you fairly—and now wish you a very good day.”
It chanced that under cover of darkness one night, shortly afterward, Colonel De Lancey rode to see his mother at some distance and left True Briton hitched at the door-step.
Young Smith, waiting his “chance of war,” sprang from behind a tree as the door of the house closed, unhitched the horse, leaped into the saddle and plunging spurs into True Briton’s sides—who, wide of eye and red-nostrilled, sprang forward—did not draw rein until he was well within the American lines.
The amazed and disgusted Colonel raised an alarm and roused his orderlies, but too late. He never saw his favorite again until one fine day he found himself incarcerated in the jail at Hartford with many another “Red-Coat.”
Beautiful Bay, then in the possession of Mr. Selah Norton, was standing in front of Bull’s Tavern, across Meeting House Green.
“Blood will tell, in men as well as horses,” finished Beautiful Bay. “When Colonel De Lancey recognized me he threw me a laughing greeting and a wave of the hand. I could almost hear what his parted lips were saying: ‘The chance of war, my friend!’”
CHAPTER VI.
TRUE GAZES UPON MISTRESS LLOYD, OF MARYLAND.
The following day, laughter and talk outside the stable announced that several persons had come to visit the horses.