“With one companion—to look out while I pick the lock.”
“Good—I’ll go with you; and provide for contingencies, too.”
I had seen a cavalryman passing along the road in front of the house, and as Mr. Alibi came in at the same moment, I sent him to hail the wayfarer, and bring him to the house. As soon as Mr. Alibi had left us on his errand, I tore a sheet from my note-book, obtained from Nighthawk an exact description of the locality where Swartz was confined, and writing a note to Mohun, informed him of our intention. If he could send a squadron of cavalry to drive in the picket near the house, it would insure the success of our design, I added.
As I finished this note, Mr. Alibi appeared with the cavalryman. He proved to belong to Mohun’s command. I entrusted the note to him, cautioning him that it was important, and must reach Mohun promptly—then I looked at my watch.
It was four o’clock. Already the sun was declining toward the wooded horizon; I looked toward it, and then at Nighthawk, who nodded.
“In an hour, colonel,” he said, “and as I am broken down, I will sleep.”
With these words, Nighthawk leaned back in his split-bottom chair, covered his face with his handkerchief, and in ten seconds his long, quiet breathing showed plainly that he was asleep.
“A cur’ous man, leftenant-colonel! a cur’ous man is Mr. Nighthawk!” said Mr. Alibi.
And he flapped his arms, and wriggled about in a manner so extraordinary that he looked more like a penguin than ever.