Читать книгу Wild Nat, the Trooper; or, The Cedar Swamp Brigade онлайн

13 страница из 36

“And I can assure you,” said Turner, to himself, “that you’ll see the greater part of them do so, unless something very unexpected prevents it.”

“You can depend on me, Nat,” said John. Again shaking hands, Ernshaw mounted his horse, and galloped away.

Turner waited until the clatter had died away, and then silently hastened in the direction of his dwelling. Arriving there, he sought the shed which covered his horse. Hurriedly saddling the beast, he rode off toward the city of Charleston, twenty miles distant.

Gen. Clinton, the military commander in Charleston, had scarcely arisen, on the following morning, when his servant announced a man waiting to speak with him.

“Who is he?” was the general’s inquiry.

“He says that his name is Turner—that he rode twenty miles last night to bring you an important piece of news.”

“Turner? Then I think I know the man. He is one of those tory hounds we find it necessary to use. I’ll vouch for it, he is planning some piece of rascality. Admit him.”

The servant retired and returned with Turner. Gen. Clinton surveyed the fellow for a moment, then addressed him rather sharply: