In the uncertain candle-light George now recognized the uniform of Washington’s guard which the second man was wearing; he had seen the British deserter only a few times, but, now that he was called to mind, the watching youth had no doubt that this was he.
“Did you, or anybody else, ever hear of Tryon treating those that serve him decently?” demanded Hickey. “He’s one of the sort that squeeze you dry—and then drop you. But,” he went on, “when he’s made up his mind to drop me, my pockets will be well lined, for if he does not give me his confidence, he does give me his money.” Once more the deserter laughed.
What answer Herbert made, young Prentiss did not hear; but in a moment the other began speaking again.
“When old Dana recommended you to me, I naturally had my doubts. ‘Is he to be trusted?’ asks I. ‘As you’d trust yourself,’ says he. ‘Are you sure of that?’ says I. ‘As sure as I am of anything,’ says he. ‘It means sixty thousand pounds to him in ready money, real property and some of the finest ships that sail the sea. Oh, yes, you can trust him to any length; he’ll not miss a fortune like that,’ says he.”
“No more would any man,” answered Herbert Camp.
The remainder of the reply was lost to George; for at the moment Camp began speaking, a sound outside the mill came to the ears of the young New Englander. He drew his head down out of the lighted square of the window and listened. But nothing followed.
“It must have been the horse stamping,” was George’s thought, after a few moments. He was about to resume his former position when he caught the soft fall of feet almost directly below him; and while he crouched low, listening, he felt the vine shaking as though under an inquiring hand.
“Some one is coming up,” he breathed. And, sure enough, the stout vine shook and strained under an additional weight; slowly and with much more difficulty than he had had, George felt the unknown ascend. For a moment he fancied that he had been discovered and that the newcomer was swarming up the vine to seize upon him. His hand went to the pistol in the belt, and he awaited the first hostile word or touch to draw it for use.
The window was rather a large one, and the point that George had gained, through pure chance, was to the extreme left of it. And now it also chanced that the newcomer scaled to the right; in the darkness a head came even with the young man, and, indeed, passed him.
With his feet, knees and left hand holding to the thick stem of the vine, George hung, clutching the pistol butt and awaiting the moment to act. But, so it seemed, the stranger had more interest within the mill than without, for the head went cautiously above the window’s edge, the dim yellow rays fell upon the face, and with a sharp gasp, George recognized Peggy Camp!