Here, in a
hospitable farmhouse, he passed the night. The next day, he rode
Eastward for the Hudson River, crossing undiscovered the scanty,
ill-patrolled line of rebel outposts, and for the most part refraining
from use of the main roads, deserted as these were. By woods and
by-ways, he proceeded as best the snow-covered state of the country
allowed. 'Twas near dusk on the second day, when he came out upon the
wooded heights that looked coldly down upon the Hudson a few miles
above the spot opposite the town of New York.
He looked across the river and Southeastward, knowing that beyond the
low hills and the woods lay the town, and that in the town was
Margaret. Then he rode back from the crest of the cliff till he came
to the head of a ravine. Down this he led his beast, arriving finally
at the narrow strip of river-bank at the cliff's foot. He followed
this some distance Southward, still leading the horse. 'Twas not yet
so dark that he could not make out a British sloop-of-war, and further
down the river the less distinct outline of a frigate, serving as
sentinels and protectors of this approach to the town. From these he
was concealed by the bushes that grew at the river's edge.
At last he turned into the mouth of a second ravine, and, rounding a
sharp side-spur of the interrupted cliff, came upon a log hut built
upon a small level shelf of earth. At one end of this structure was a
pent-roof.
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