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

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General Clinton was sitting in his chamber, busily engaged in examining a number of parchments which lay exposed on the table before him. It was now well on toward noon. Though apparently intent on his work, his mind evidently was not at ease. “It is strange,” he muttered to himself, “that nothing has been heard concerning Captain Morgan and his troop, whom I sent out to capture those rebels. I told him to endeavor to take the young man, Vale, alive, if possible, and send me word immediately. One of his men would have arrived, ere this, had he chosen to obey my commands. I will see, though; perhaps there is some news stirring without.”

He advanced to the door for the purpose of calling his servant, when a loud knocking arrested him. He stood for a moment listening, and then sank back in his chair, remarking, “There is some one at last.”

The door was flung open to admit the tory spy, Timothy Turner. With a pale face spattered with blood, and his left arm supported in a sling, he strode across the floor, and stood confronting the general. For a moment Sir Henry looked at him with a countenance indicative of surprise and apprehension; then he burst forth: