"Yes; where—at the Eagle's Nest?"
"No, that is too far for you to go; Hayward's Ferry will be better."
"When shall I come?" I asked.
"To-night, and as soon after dark as you can."
"Where, Mr. Hayward's house?"
"No; in the grove below the landing. Now be off. The sun's coming up, and people are stirring about like flies on a piece of ice. Good by, and don't fail to bring me all the news."
"No, I'll not," I answered, starting on a run, greatly elated at having at last enlisted Fox in Uncle Job's behalf.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE DRAGON'S MASTER
Nearing the Dragon, I discovered Mr. Seymour standing on the porch, without hat or coat, smoking a pipe, an occupation that seemed greatly to his liking, as indeed it is to most of his sturdy countrymen. Shivering in the icy air, I thought his dress far from appropriate; but then Englishmen are hardier than we, though why this should be I do not know, unless they are bred in a more rugged climate or spend more of their time in the open air. Scanning his ruddy face and upright figure, all the things I had been taught as a schoolboy to believe of his countrymen came back as if to puzzle me by their presence. But were the stories true? I asked myself as I walked on more slowly. Yes, every one of them, and more; but if that were so, then Mr. Seymour could not be like the others—those sent hither in the Colonial days by the Odious King whom the forefathers defied and treated with scorn and contumely. No! He was an exception to the Sodden Crew, the consorters of Hessians and the like. Or, after all, were McGuffy's stories of Oppression and the Flaming Torch vain and wanton imaginings only! No! They were true enough; and it is thou, sweet Constance, that hast led me to doubt, and who will in the end, if I do not have a care, uproot all the traditions of my country, making its patriotic pillars to topple and fall as if they were not. Come back to me, then, thou sturdy belief in the Cruel Oppressor in the days when the patriots resolved and fought, and in the end filled all the places of preferment and profit. Hated Englishmen! Monsters of greed! Oppressors of the patriots! Devisers of stamps and nefarious taxes! Let me never cease to despise you, though Constance be all the world to me and more! Or, and the thought would come, however much I strove to force it back, were the tales of oppression shadowy phantoms merely of a gloomy period? Men in buckram, so to speak, conjured up and kept alive to stir the patriot's heart! Were indeed the servants of the British Tyrant like other men, sturdy and fair-minded and of good sleep, so far as men can be, or odious oppressors, as the Teachers point out and the Schoolbooks show? Oh, Constance, thou dream of grace and love, what doubts thy sweet face and entrancing eyes have caused to rise like a fog across the revolutionary moor that I have been taught to believe a part of the heritage of my countrymen! Surely thou hast undone me, loyal youth though I be!