TELLS WHAT BEFELL EZRA THEREIN
Directly behind the red-faced man came Abdallah, and a small,
weazened-looking youth, with the face of a ferret and the covert manners
of a fox.
That Abdallah was not pleased with the situation was very evident. There
was an angry light burning in the dark eyes; and though his manner was
as suave as ever, his voice, as he spoke, had gained distinctly in
sharpness.
“This,” said he, addressing Ezra, who had arisen, “is a gentleman who
insisted upon making your acquaintance.”
Major Buckstone laughed loudly, and held out his hand to the boy.
“And that is the plain truth,” spoke he, with great heartiness of
manner. “I am a bluff soldier, young sir, and I am always delighted to
see those who do their work out in the open.”
As he said this, his eyes went quickly to Abdallah and the ferret-faced
young man. It was the latter who made answer.
“In a time like this, Major Buckstone,” said he, “there is work of all
sorts to be done for His Majesty, the King. You have your place—we have
ours.”
“And you will pardon me for saying it, I’m sure,” said Abdallah, also
addressing the major, “but your place is decidedly not here.”
The words were softly spoken; but, for all, there was behind them the
bitter resentment of a man not accustomed to being crossed.
Major Buckstone drew himself up, and saluted formally.
“Sir,” he made reply, “you have complimented me highly. You are quite
right. This is not my place. In plain words, a man of my quality should
never have been detailed upon such duty.”
The ferret-faced youth, his eyes full of alarm, furtively tugged at the
speaker’s sleeve; then he whispered some words of caution. But the burly
soldier shook him off impatiently.
“I understand you very well, Jason Collyer,” said he with ponderous
disdain. “But as I have told you many times in this last twenty-four
hours, I will pay no heed to you. I have my own way of conducting my own
business, and that I will persist in.”
Abdallah made a sign to the ferret-faced youth, and the latter fell back
from the plainspoken major. Then the two drew together at a far corner
of the room and consulted in whispers. The major turned to Ezra once
more.
“You have ridden from Cambridge, I understand,” said he.
“I have,” replied the lad, briefly.
“It has been a week since I passed through the rebel lines,” said the
officer. “I was in disguise,” in a tone of great disgust. “Much rather
would I have been in full uniform, and at the head of two regiments of
hardy fellows.” Then in another tone, “But what news?”
“The papers, I should think,” and Ezra nodded toward Abdallah, “would
tell you everything.”
“Everything of this nature,” and the burly speaker gestured about him in
great contempt. “But I want to have as little to do with spying and
ferreting as possible. What I want to know is: what has General Gage
done to break the preposterous condition at Boston, that the rebels call
a siege?”
“Nothing, sir,” replied the boy.
The great, red face grew grim, and the heavy round head wagged from side
to side.
“British prestige will suffer for this,” said the major, solemnly. “It
will suffer the world over.” Then with a tightening of his jaws, “Come,
then, tell me what the rebels have done. I’ll warrant they have been
active enough.”
Ezra smiled.
“You are right in that,” said he. “Never were men more busy before. Not
a day goes by but that something is done. Earthworks are thrown up,
companies are enlisted, stores are gathered, noted men of the colonial
wars are offering their swords and their experience.”
This last caused Major Buckstone to grow grimmer than ever.
“And tough fighters, those same rascals are,” said he. “I’ve fought
shoulder to shoulder with them, and I know their mettle.”
Then little by little he drew from the boy all the details of what
had passed, to the colonists’ credit, since the day that the
column under Lord Percy had been driven pell-mell into Boston. But the
boy shrewdly neglected to mention anything that would show the real
and pitiful weakness of the colonial force. He did not tell how the
slackly-disciplined farmers grew tired of the dull routine of the
siege and left for their homes in droves. He did not tell how General
Ward had written to the Provincial Congress declaring that if this was
not somehow stopped he would soon be left all alone. Nor did he say
that for sheer want of men, Boston Neck was at times almost
unguarded—Boston Neck, the most important avenue of all out of the
beleaguered city.
Major Buckstone listened to the rosy story of the colonists’ prowess;
his thick iron-gray brows were drawn together in a frown.
“I understand that they have Putnam from Connecticut with them, and that
tall fellow John Stark, of New Hampshire, too. Well, they are both nasty
fighters; I’ve seen them in the thick of it many a time. The only way to
beat such fellows is to prevent them from making a fair beginning.”
Here Abdallah came forward. His dark eyes had grown calm once more; and
there was a gentle smile upon his lips.
“In that, Major Buckstone, you are perfectly right,” said he. “Once
these men get a fair start in the conducting of a war it will be most
difficult to put them down. And to prevent them is our mission.”
The major growled out an angry exclamation. But Abdallah proceeded
smoothly.
“When the military force has shown itself to be incompetent,” said he,
“such as we step in.” He paid no attention to the glowering look that
the major directed upon him for this criticism of the army. “Our work is
of such a nature——”
The ferret-faced youth thrust out a thin, large-knuckled hand and tugged
at Abdallah’s robe.
“Our work and its nature is well known to us all,” remarked he, with a
sharp look at Ezra. “So there is nothing to be gained by talking over
it, that I can see.”
Abdallah smiled.
“Right,” said he, “though it is somewhat late in the evening for us to
think of becoming secretive. Major Buckstone has seen fit to——”
“We have been all over that, also,” said the major, brusquely. “As I
have said before, this lad has been entrusted with other and perhaps
cleaner business of the King than this. And I can see no harm in
speaking openly before him.”
“You are in command,” said Abdallah, smilingly. “And I defer to you in
everything.”
“If you had been bred to the artillery, you would have done that in the
first place,” replied Major Buckstone, dryly. “And, now, since that
rather important point is settled, let us get to our affairs.”
The seal upon the packet of papers brought by Ezra was now broken and
the three bent over them intently. Ezra once more seated himself,
watching them keenly, for he was struck by the great difference in their
appearance.
Major Buckstone was huge of limb and body; his great red face shone with
perspiration; despite his rather uncouth farmer’s dress, he looked every
inch a British officer of the old school.
Abdallah’s commanding height would have marked him almost anywhere as a
person of unusual parts; and his queer robe-like garment, his bald dome
and his singular dark eyes only accentuated this.
And the furtive-mannered Jason Collyer came in for his fair share of the
boy’s attention. There was a peculiar something in the sharp face and
the light eyes that caused Ezra to class him as dangerous.
“Even, perhaps, more dangerous than Abdallah himself,” thought the boy.
“He is of the kind that never trusts any one and would halt at nothing
to gain its ends.”
It did not take many minutes for these strangely-contrasted coworkers to
master the contents of the documents. Then Major Buckstone drew an
ink-pot toward him at a table and took up a broad-nibbed quill pen.
“A line will suffice,” said he to the others. “General Gage will grasp
the situation instantly. A single dash upon Boston Neck of a dark night
will do the work. If I were only there with my artillery, I would soon
have it as wide open as——”
“Hsh-h!” warned Jason Collyer again. And once more he threw a sharp,
distrustful look at Ezra.
With a snort of contempt the bluff soldier dipped the broad-nibbed pen
deep into the ink-pot; then he dashed off some heavy lines of writing,
folded the paper and affixed a seal.
“There,” said he, rising, “that will answer.” He handed the message to
Ezra and continued, “Is your horse fresh enough to mount at once?”
Ezra knew that the beast was not; but then he had seen and heard all
that was necessary and had no desire to linger in the house of Abdallah.
“He will do until I reach my first stop,” said he.
“Good,” spoke the major as he watched the lad button the message tightly
up in his breast pocket. “Make all haste.”
“You may depend upon me to do so,” returned Ezra evenly. “But first you
must tell me where I am to go?”
Amazement was written large upon the soldier’s broad, red face at this.
His eyes went to Abdallah; and the latter smiled easily.
“It is our way of conducting things,” said he. “We never allow our right
hands to know what our left hands are doing.” Then turning to Ezra, he
went on, “Return by way of Charlestown. Just outside of that village,
near an elevation called Bunker Hill, there is a small place of resort
known as the ‘Indian’s Head.’”
“I can find it,” said Ezra.
“Excellent!” Abdallah smiled pleasantly. “At the ‘Indian’s Head’ you
will ask for Mr. Pennington. And when he is pointed out to you—by the
landlord, mind you—deliver the message to him.”
“Very well,” said Ezra.
“You understand perfectly?” inquired Jason Collyer.
“Perfectly,” replied Ezra, briefly. Then turning to the others he
continued, “If that is all you have to say to me, I will be off at
once.”
“That is all,” said Major Buckstone; and Abdallah smiled and inclined
his hairless head.
They held candles for him as he went out, for night had come on.
“Ride carefully,” warned Major Buckstone. “It will be a dark night.”
“I am used to it,” said the boy, as he unfastened the tall bay and
climbed into the saddle. “And then, this nag of mine has eyes like an
owl.”
And so, with a shake of the rein and a wave of the hand to the three,
the young patriot was off along the dark road, going by the way he had
come.