Harper's Round Table, January 14, 1896

by Various

It was almost four o'clock in the morning when Lieutenant Peck stopped. The latter, out of delicacy, had asked no questions, and George had felt in no mood for conversation. Their journey had been made in silence.

"Here is the lone oak," said the Lieutenant, "and here I am to leave you and take back the horses. This road will carry you to the British lines. I wish you all success in your dangerous enterprise, for I can guess, sir, what hardships and sacrifices you will have to make. God speed you."

George had dismounted. He shook the other's hand, thanked him, and hastened down the road. The papers that were sewed inside his clothes crinkled as he walked. He almost felt as if his courage would give out. What was he going to face? Was he not being made the victim of a wild, reckless enthusiast?

Nevertheless he would not back out. It was not in the Frothingham blood to turn. The family motto was "Onward." He would be true to it.

As he walked ahead he kept making up his mind what he would say and how he would appear. He was supposed not to be a country bumpkin, but a youth of some education and appearance. He was not to go into hiding when he reached the city, but to live openly, and to spend money lavishly on the soldiers. He was not to talk overly much, but to listen carefully, and to await the orders that he would receive, and act, when the time came, with promptness and fearlessness. He had been going over for the hundredth time the tale of his imaginary and wonderful passage through the American lines; and had traversed perhaps eight or ten miles from the spot where he had separated from Lieutenant Peck, when he saw some men with guns on their shoulders crossing from the woods to the left of the road.

It was growing light, and it was evident from their movements that they had detected him. Now a strange fear came into his mind. If they were English, all would be right and well; but if they were Americans, it would be hard for him to explain. It was good that this idea came to him, for it made him act as a fugitive naturally would. He walked on as if he had discovered nothing until he had placed the big trunk of a tree between himself and the strangers standing on the hill-side, two of whom were advancing toward him. Then he backed carefully away, still keeping the tree between him and the approaching figures, until he reached the stone wall at the road-side. He cleared this at a bound, and falling on his hands and knees, crawled along in the direction he had been pursuing. At last he found a patch of underbrush, and worked his way into it cautiously as a skulking Iroquois might. Peering out through the branches of a small pine he could clearly see the men that were walking toward the tree behind, which he apparently had taken shelter, up the road. He could see their surprised gestures when they found no one was there. He saw them searching the ground for footprints, as there had been a slight snow-fall, and of course his having walked backwards did not betray him at first glance. He hoped that they were Englishmen, but could not tell, for their uniform was a nondescript one like the Americans. Suddenly, as he watched the slope from his hiding-place, he saw the flash of a red coat, and then another. The man near the road shouted something back to the top of the hill. It was evident that George had come across an English outpost, and as it was now quite day-light, he could see, down the road, a number of horses being led out of a weather-beaten gray barn.

So Lieutenant Frothingham, now "Richard Blount," of Albany, stepped from his hiding-place, and walked boldly out to the road-side and seated himself on the stone wall.

For some reason the party who was searching the bushes further up had not discerned him, but the man in the red coat had, and was seen coming swiftly down the hill. The other joined him also, and soon the two were within speaking distance.

"Stand and deliver!" said the first, with his hand upon the butt of a large pistol that he carried in his belt.

"If you will pardon me," returned George, affecting a careless air, "I had just as lief sit for awhile; and as to delivering, I have come a long way to do it."