"The plan has not come to naught. Before we left the cabin I had no idea where the house was located; but now you have pointed it out I would be able, if the time was ripe and you not with me, to find the place. I am counting—"
Pierre did not finish the sentence, for at that moment we came face to face with Abel Hunt, a dissolute fellow seventeen or eighteen years old, who lived in a mean hovel with his meaner parents near to Horry Sims's home, and one who would follow in the footsteps of Horry Sims's father so far as having a Tory leaning was concerned.
It was so dark that I did not see the fellow until we were close upon him, otherwise would I have made every effort to avoid a meeting, for I had no doubt that he, seeing us in York, would immediately ask himself why we who favored the Cause were there. Then might he straightway set about striving to learn what was our business in the village.
Again, and this came into my mind like a flash of light, he might be there searching for Horry. When the lad failed to return home his parents would, as a matter of course, send here, there and everywhere in search of him, and this fellow Abel Hunt would have been one of the first whom Master Sims would have called on, because, having much the same as supplied the Hunt family with food, he could demand their service whenever they were required.
Looking over what I have here set down, it would seem as if I was making it appear that Pierre and I stood motionless several seconds in front of Abel Hunt, whereas all these thoughts had come into my mind in a twinkling, even as I crowded little Frenchie into the roadway with the faint hope that we might pass Hunt and not be recognized.
In this I was unsuccessful, for even as I would have moved out of his path the fellow seized me by the arm, as if he was my equal, and said with a coarse laugh:
"Well, how comes it that one of the Hamiltons, who claim to be red-hot rebels, is loitering around the British encampment? Have you changed coats lately, Master Fitz?"
"I am wearing the same coat of buff and blue that I stood ready to put on when we heard the news from Boston. I suppose if there be any color to yours, it is red, unless peradventure you could find more money in the pockets of a garment of different hue."
This last I said because it was well known two years before that both Abel and his father were willing to sell their services to Whig or Tory; but could find none foolish enough to buy them, therefore, dependent upon Master Sims as they were for their daily bread, fell into line as lovers of the king.
Hunt gave no heed to me when I thus reminded him that he was willing to sell his opinions; but abruptly demanded why I was in York, and where I counted on going.