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words he spoke were --
 Golly! Massa! You tink I got no feelin?
 By Heavens! shouted the Lieutenant;  it is the negro himself. Scoundrel!
where is your master, and who was the priest? While speaking he made a
movement as if about to renew the attack; but Cæsar cried aloud for mercy,
promising to tell all that he knew.
 Who was the priest? repeated the dragoon, drawing back his formidable leg,
and holding it in threatening suspense.
 Harvey, Harvey! cried Cæsar, dancing from one leg to the other, as he
thought each member in its turn assailed.
 Harvey who? you black villain, cried the impatient Lieutenant, as he
executed a full measure of vengeance by letting his leg fly.
 Birch! shrieked Cæsar, falling on his knees, the tears rolling in large
drops over his shining face.
 Harvey Birch! echoed the trooper, hurling the black from him and rushing
from the room;  To arms! to arms! Fifty guineas for the life of the Pedlar
spy--give no quarters to either. Mount, mount! to arms! to horse!
During the uproar occasioned by the assembling of the dragoons, who all
rushed tumultuously to their horses, Cæsar rose from the floor, where he had
been thrown by Mason, and began to examine into his injuries.--Happily for
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himself, he had alighted on his head, and sustained no material damage.
CHAPTER XIII.
 Away went Gilpin, neck or nought,
Away went hat and wig!
He little dreamt, when he set out,
Of running such a rig!
Cowper
Theroad which it was necessary for the pedlar and the English captain to
travel, in order to reach the shelter of the hills, lay for a half-mile in
full view from the door of the building that had so recently been the prison
of the latter; running for the whole distance over the rich plain that spreads
to the very foot of the mountains, which here rise in a nearly perpendicular
ascent from their bases; it then turned short to the right, and was obliged to
follow the windings of nature as it won its way into the bosom of the
highlands.
To preserve the supposed difference in their stations, Harvey rode a short
distance ahead of his companion, and maintained the sober, dignified pace that
was suited to his assumed character. On their right, the regiment of foot that
we have already mentioned lay in tents; and the sentinels who guarded their
encampment, were to be seen moving with measured tread, under the skirts of
the hills themselves.
The first impulse of Henry was, certainly, to urge the beast he rode to his
greatest speed at once, and by a coup-de-main, not only accomplish his escape,
but relieve himself from the torturing suspense of his situation. But the
forward movement that the youth made for this purpose was instantly checked by
the pedlar.
 Hold up! he cried, dexterously reining his own horse across the path of the
other;  would you ruin us both? Fall into the place of a black, following his
master. Did you not see their blooded chargers, all saddled and bridled,
standing in the sun before the house? How long do you think that miserable
Dutch horse you are on would hold his speed, if pursued by the Virginians?
Every foot that we can gain, without giving the alarm, counts us a day in our
lives. Ride steadily after me, and on no account look back. They are as subtle
as foxes, aye, and as ravenous for blood as wolves!
Henry reluctantly restrained his impatience, and followed the directions of
the pedlar. His imagination, however, continually alarmed him with the sounds
of a fancied pursuit; though Birch who occasionally looked back under the
pretence of addressing his companion, assured him that all continued quiet and
peaceful.
 But, said Henry,  it will not be possible for Cæsar to remain undiscovered
long--had we not better put our horses to the gallop, and by the time that
they can reflect on the cause of our flight, we can reach the corner of the
woods?
 Ah! you little know them, Captain Wharton, returned the pedlar  there is a
sergeant at this moment looking after us, as if he thought all was not
right--the keen-eyed fellow watches me like a tiger laying in wait for his
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leap; when I stood on the horse-block he half suspected then that something
was wrong; nay, check your beast-- we must let the animals walk a little, for
he is laying his hand on the pommel of his saddle--if he mounts now we are
gone. The foot-soldiers could reach us with their muskets.
 What does he do? asked Henry, reining his horse to a walk, but at the same
time pressing his heels into his sides, to be in readiness for a spring.
 He turns from his charger, and looks the other way; now trot on gently--not
so fast--not so fast--observe the sentinel in the field, a little ahead of
us--he eyes us keenly.
 Never mind the footman, said Henry impatiently;  he can do nothing but
shoot us--whereas, these dragoons may make me a captive again. Surely, Harvey,
there are horse moving down the road behind us. Do you see nothing
particular?
 Humph! ejaculated the pedlar;  there is something particular indeed, to be
seen behind the thicket on our left--turn your head a little, and you may see
and profit by it too.
Henry eagerly seized this permission to look aside, and the blood curdled to
his heart as he observed that they were passing a gallows that unquestionably
had been erected for his own execution:--he turned his face from the sight in
undisguised horror.
 There is a warning to be prudent in that bit of wood, said the pedlar, in
the sententious manner that he often adopted.
 It is a terrific sight, indeed! cried Henry, for a moment veiling his eyes
with his hand, as if to drive a vision from before him.
The pedlar moved his body partly around, and spoke with energetic but gloomy
bitterness-- and yet, Captain Wharton, you see it where the setting sun shines
full upon you; the air you breathe is clear, and fresh from the hills before
you. Every step that you take, leaves that hated gallows behind, and every
dark hollow, and every shapeless rock in the mountains, offers you a hiding
place from the vengeance of your enemies. But I have seen the gibbet raised,
when no place of refuge offered. Twice have I been buried in dungeons, where,
fettered and in chains, I have passed nights in torture, looking forward to
the morning s dawn that was to light me to a death of infamy. The sweat has
started from limbs that seemed already drained of their moisture, and if I
ventured to the hole that admitted air through grates of iron, to look out
upon the smiles of nature, which God has bestowed for the meanest of his
creatures, the gibbet has glared before my eyes like an evil conscience,
harrowing the soul of a dying man. Four times have I been in their power,
besides this last; but--twice--twice--did I think that my hour had come. It is
hard to die at the best, Captain Wharton; but to spend your last moments alone
and unpitied, to know that none near you so much as think of the fate that is
to you the closing of all that is earthly; to think, that in a few hours, you
are to be led from the gloom, which as you dwell on what follows, becomes dear
to you, to the face of day, and there to meet all eyes upon you, as if you
were a wild beast; and to lose sight of every thing amidst the jeers and
scoffs of your fellow-creatures. That, Captain Wharton, that indeed is to
die.
Henry listened in amazement, as his companion uttered this speech with a
vehemence altogether new to him; both seemed to have forgotten their danger
and their disguises, as he cried--
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