THE NIGHT PROMISES WELL
Nat Brewster left the Porcupine under the big elm across from the
Bristol inn.
“Say nothing to any one,” he warned him. “I’ll have the landlady get
you a supper and make you up a bed somewhere where you’ll not be
noticed. Remember, I don’t even want Ben to see you.”
He crossed the road and entered the inn in deep thought. The mission of
the two strangers greatly troubled him.
“Of course,” he told himself, “it’s connected with the message that
Ezra carries to Dr. Warren. But who are these men? They do not belong
to the party we encountered at the burned mill, I feel sure; for they
go about their work in a more crafty and experienced manner.”
Of course, under the circumstances, to show Ezra that he knew anything
about them was out of the question.
“And I can’t tell Mr. Revere or Ben anything either,” he reasoned,
“for as soon as I had done so they would let it all out to Ezra. And,
if there is any truth in my suspicions that the strangers are friends
of his, he’d warn them at once, a thing that I most particularly don’t
want done.”
In a very little while the candles were lighted and the tables spread
with smoking dishes. In the meantime Nat had spoken quietly to the
landlady, and the good soul had at once fallen in with his plans of
feeding and housing the dwarf.
“But I quite agree with what you say, young gentleman, in regard to not
allowing my other guests to know of his presence. They might object to
having such an unfortunate in the house. Travelers, you know, are most
peculiar.”
And so Nat had the satisfaction, when he sat down to his supper, of
knowing that his little friend was also well taken care of, and in a
position, perhaps, to render a prompt service, if such a thing should
be necessary.
Revere, Ezra, Ben Cooper and Nat were gathered about a large table; a
smaller one was laid for the tall Englishman, and he smiled contentedly
as he tucked the generous napkin under his chin.
“Madam,” said he, to the landlady, “I take this occasion to ask your
pardon. I did you the discredit of questioning your skill in cookery;
but in the presence of these gentlemen I take it back unreservedly.”
“But you have not tasted the dishes as yet,” protested the landlady,
assuming to be short and vexed. But in reality she was much mollified.
“I don’t need to taste them to be assured of their excellence,” spoke
the stranger with a wave of the hand. “The aroma that arises as I lift
each separate cover is enough for me. You are not a cook, madam; you
are an artist.”
And so with great good humor he fell to and proved to be a worthy
trencherman. Revere, eating generously of his own supper, watched their
neighbor in high admiration. At length he said:
“It is not at every inn one finds such excellent fare, sir.”
“Right!” and the stranger saluted him with his knife. “Right, sir.
And that is why I was suspicious at the off-start. But,” and he bowed
to the now gratified hostess with great politeness, “I shall always
remember the town of Bristol. I shall write the name large in the
records of my experiences, because it is a place that possesses an inn
where a gentleman can dine.”
As he was speaking the door opened and a newcomer made his appearance.
At sight of the small gold rings in his ears, the pack upon his back
and the heavy oaken staff in his hand, Nat Brewster recognized him as
the stranger to whom the Porcupine had talked on the road. He was a
swarthy looking fellow and decidedly like a gypsy, as the dwarf had
said; but there was a roll to his gait and an air about him that would
have told an experienced observer that he was no stranger to the sea.
“I would like accommodations, madam,” said he to the landlady, and
there was a foreign blur of some sort that spoiled the distinctness of
his speech.
“Supper, a bed and breakfast, I suppose,” said the woman, very brisk
and businesslike. Foot travelers were never very profitable as a rule,
and she did not waste much time upon them.
“If you please,” said the dark man. He threw down his knapsack and
stood the staff in a corner. “And as I am hungry I should like my
supper as soon as you can give it to me.”
“I shall have to lay another cloth,” said the landlady, with the air
of one who does not altogether like a task. “I would that you had come
sooner, sir.”
“I am sorry to be troublesome,” said the other, civilly enough; but for
all, Nat saw a look in his piercing black eyes that gave the lie to his
words.
The tall stranger had been quietly listening to this dialogue with a
careless air. But now he arose.
“Madam,” said he, politely, to the hostess, “to save you trouble and
offer the hand of good fellowship to a stranger and a wayfarer,” bowing
to the swarthy man, “let me say that the other side of my table is at
the gentleman’s service.”
“Why,” said the pleased landlady, “that is very kind of you.”
The sailor-like man looked properly grateful.
“I thank you, sir,” said he. “I did not expect such civil treatment
from one whom I never saw before.”
As the newcomer settled himself into a chair facing the other, Ben, who
sat beside Nat, whispered to him, lowly:
“I wouldn’t have expected it of him at any rate. But he must be a far
better natured man than I’d put him down to be.”
However, Nat only smiled. The play between the two men, who were
greeting each other as strangers, interested and amused him.
“And they do it very well, too,” he thought, sadly neglecting his food
that he might miss nothing of what was going forward. “If I did not
know what the Porcupine told me I’d be deceived as well as the most
innocent of them.”
“It is a wearying and sultry time of the year to tramp the roads,” said
the tall man to the newcomer, sympathizingly. “I hope you have not far
to go.”
“To Trenton,” responded the swarthy man. “And it’s a long journey
enough when you consider that I’ve come from New Castle in Delaware.”
“Is it so, indeed? And bearing that pack upon your shoulders, too.”
“It’s not so comfortable as it might be,” laughed the other shortly;
“and not so lightly carried as your saddle-bags, which I see hanging
upon the wall.”
The tall man turned and looked where the other pointed.
“It just happens that I’m not sure that those are mine,” said he. Then
running his eye over the array of hats, saddle-bags and riding-whips
which hung upon the wooden pegs, he remarked, addressing those at the
other table: “Did it ever occur to you, gentlemen, how alike all such
things are? For the life of me I can’t see why we are not continually
mistaking each other’s property.”
“Now that I think of it,” spoke Mr. Revere, “I must say that I agree
with you.”
“I knew you would,” said the tall man. Then with a laugh he added,
lightly: “But let us put it to the test.” He looked at the things upon
the wall as though reckoning them up. “There are four--yes, five pairs
of saddle pouches. Come, now,” and he ran his eyes over his neighbors
until they rested upon Ben, still laughingly, “let us see if you can
tell which is your own and which are your friends’.”
Nat, with a start, grasped the man’s idea instantly.
“Ezra placed the message to Dr. Warren in his saddle pocket,” he said
to himself. “This man in some way knows of it, and is taking this means
of making sure which are Ezra’s.”
It was plain that Ben Cooper did not altogether relish being selected
to make what the stranger called the test. While the boy never dreamed
of the real truth, as it flashed into Nat’s brain, still there was
something in the man’s manner that did not please him--a cunning and a
mockery, well hidden, but present nevertheless. However, he did not see
how he could well refuse, so he set about the task without further ado.
“The pair at the end I do not know, so I suppose they must be yours,
sir,” said he. “Next are Mr. Revere’s, because they are of polished
leather, and next are Ezra’s because they are of pigskin and almost
new----”
“Wait, wait!” interrupted the smiling stranger. “Which of your friends
is Ezra?”
“That is my name, sir,” answered young Prentiss steadily enough.
“Ah!” said the other, and he looked at him searchingly. “Thank you.”
And as Ben told off the other two pairs of saddle-bags the speaker
added: “Well, well, you have sharp eyes, young gentleman. I did not
think it could be done so easily.”
During the above, Nat had not devoted all his attention to the
stranger. Ezra had come in for his share of observation, and the boy
from the mountains saw the various changes of expression that had
flashed over his face. At the first reference to the saddle-bags by the
tall man, Ezra had glanced at him quickly--and there was something in
the glance that was puzzled and hesitating. But as the other proceeded
the boy grew slightly pale and Nat saw his lips come together in a
tight line.
And as the others talked and laughed, Nat pondered the subject in his
own mind carefully.
“It is plain to me,” he told himself, “that these men are met here for
the purpose of possessing themselves of Mr. Adams’ letter. But why has
it been necessary for them to go to all this trouble if Ezra is in
league with them? Why could he not have arranged to meet one of them
quietly and hand over the document without further bother? It would
have been much simpler, much easier and much safer.”
This point puzzled him for a space; then the possible reason for all
the plotting came to him like an inspiration.
“I have it,” he thought. “If the message were delivered to these people
secretly, Ezra would be held accountable--he would be suspected. If
some show is made of taking it from him against his will, with all of
us as witnesses, he can easily convince his employers that he did all
he could to safeguard it.”
This idea grew and took shape in Nat’s mind. And he began to suspect
that the tall man’s attempt to pass himself off as a sympathizer with
the colonies had not been so clumsy after all. It was possible that he
might have thrown himself open to suspicion intentionally, so that
in the end, if he succeeded in securing the paper, it could be shown
that there had been a systematic plan laid and carried through for its
possession.
“If this is so, it is very ingeniously and carefully laid,” thought the
boy. “And I must keep my eyes wide open.”
After supper they remained in the inn parlor talking with the two
strangers for a time; at length Revere, looking at a massive silver
watch that he carried, said:
“It’s coming nine o’clock, lads. Let’s to bed. We’ll needs be up in the
morning early to get a good start.”
Willingly enough the three boys arose and began gathering up their
belongings. Nat saw the hungry eyes of the two men upon the pigskin
saddle-bags, which now hung from Ezra’s arm, and he smiled grimly.
“It’s one thing to want a thing and another thing to get it,” he
muttered. “You may get Mr. Adams’ message in the end, my friend, but if
you do, you’ll have harder work of it than you think.”