"
"Trust me, cap'n. I guess they ain't shifted none since I come acrost
awhile ago. I'll land yuh nearest where we can get the hoss I spoke
of. 'Tis the beast 'ut brung me from the camp--but mum about that."
The two men moved at the oars, and the boat shot out from the sluggish
dock-water to the live current, down which it headed. "Don't you
consarn yerse'f about them ships--'tis the dark o' the moon an' a
cloudy night, an' as fur our course, I could _smell_ it out, if it
come to that!"
They rounded the end of the town, and turned into the Hudson, gliding
black over the surface of blackness. They pulled for some distance
against the stream, so as to land far enough above our post at Paulus
Hook. Going ashore in a little cove apparently well-known to Meadows,
they drew up the boat, and hastened inland. Meadows had led the way
about half a mile, when a dark mass composed of farmhouse and
outbuildings loomed up before them.
"Here's where the hoss is; Pete Westervelt takes keer of him,"
whispered the watchman, and strode, not to the stables, but to the
door of what appeared to be an outer kitchen, which he opened with a
key of his own. A friendly whinny greeted him from the narrow dark
space into which he disappeared. He soon came out, leading the horse
he used in his journeys to and from the American camp, and bearing
saddle and bridle on his arm. The two men speedily adjusted these,
whereupon Philip mounted.
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