"Bring or send the beast back by night," said Meadows, handing over
the key, with which he had meanwhile relocked the door of his
improvised stable. "Hoss-flesh is damn' skeerce these times." This was
the truth, the needs of the armies having raised the price of a horse
to a fabulous sum.
Philip promised to return the horse or its equivalent; gave a swift
acknowledgment of thanks, and a curt good-night; and made off, leaving
old Meadows to foot it, and row it, once more back to New York.
'Twas now, till he should reach the camp, but a matter of steady
galloping, with ears alert for the sound of other hoof-beats, eyes
watchful at crossroads and open stretches for the party he hoped to
forestall. While he had had ways and means to think of, and had been
in peril of detection by the British, or in doubt of obtaining a horse
without a long trudge to Ellis's hut, his mind had been diverted from
the unhappy interview with Margaret. But now that swept back into his
thoughts, inundating his soul with grief and shame, of the utmost
degree of bitterness. These were the more complete from the
recollection of the joyous anticipations with which he had gone to
meet her.
Contemplation of this contrast, sense of his desertion, overcame his
habitual resistance to self-pity, a feeling against which he was
usually on the stronger guard for his knowledge that it was a
concomitant of his inherent sensibility.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226