But, so filled was he with the importance of his errand, that he had not even noted that the house was Hawksworth’s; so he failed to recognize the face behind the heavy veil. All unknowing, he touched his hat and hurried on. She recognized him, however, for the light from a lanthorn had fallen directly upon his face; and she gasped to see him here, of all places in the world. Her friends were laughing and chattering still, and calling to each other from the different sleighs; but she never heeded them. Standing at one side she gazed after the dimming figure pushing its way so doggedly through the snow.
And as she stood there, she became aware of something else. There was another figure—a burly, towering figure that possessed an atmosphere at once cautious and threatening. The huge shoulders were bent, the head was drawn down, the step was careful, the whole manner one of secrecy and observation. That this person was following the boy seemed beyond doubt; and the girl choked back a little cry as she realized it.
Apparently under the impression that the entire party was wrapped in the robes and tucked away in the sleighs, the horses were given rein and started away amid a great jingling of bells. But still Peggy Camp paid no heed. For a moment she stood, her eyes following the burly, secretive pursuer; then with sudden resolution she gathered her cloak about her and stole away in the broad track which he left in the snow.
When George reached the point above the town where his friend had crossed, he stopped for a moment and gazed out over the river. Not even a twinkle of light could be seen from the Pennsylvania shore; the snow was falling thickly; the bitter wind had broken the ice into huge cakes, and these were grinding together ominously.
But his pause was only of a moment’s duration. Upon the hillock of which Nat had spoken, a heap of brush, carefully covered from the snow, was collected. George had taken this precaution the day before. Shielding his operations with his hat, he struck a spark and fired the brush; the flame began to lick at the dry twigs hungrily; the dark red tongues leaped from point to point at the bottom of the heap. As the wind struck it, the mounting fire bur-r-r-red complainingly; and satisfied that it had safely caught, George stepped back. As he did so he heard a step at his side; upon the point of whirling about he heard a low voice say:
“Hah! You would, would you!”
Then came a tremendous blow upon the side of his head and he fell stunned upon the hillside. The cold touch of the snow, however, instantly revived him; with his muscles lax and powerless he lay there, his eyes rolling about until they became fixed upon a form at the fire.
“A signal, eh?” The big man laughed, and the leaping flame lighted up his face. And, as it did so, George, strangely enough, knew him. It was the bully, Slade, whom he had seen at the “King’s Arms” on his first day in New York. “A signal, was it, my hearty? Well, we’ll soon put an end to that.”
With a massive walking stick, apparently the weapon with which he had felled young Prentiss, he began scattering the brush.
Unsteadily, George got upon his feet; waveringly he advanced. For the fire to be instantly quenched meant that the American army must not venture across the river.