“Say, Atwell’s an awful nice fellow for a redcoat,” said Harry, as the first three scouts, Vinton, Carpenter, and Brent, were pushed off with many reminders of the need of absolutely silent paddling.
“I have naught but contempt for him, and for that redcoat tyrant, Wade, as well,” said Gordon.
“Ay, let us think of the cruel Stamp Act to-night, and the Boston Massacre, and—and—a few other things,” said Red Deer. “Colonel Gordon Allen speaks what is in all our hearts!”
“You’ll like Mr. Wade, Red Deer,” said Harry. “He’s great. His troop thinks the world of him.”
“His tinseled uniform was paid for by poor colonial farmers and honest pioneers,” said Gordon, fiercely.
“He wore a golf suit the last time I saw him,” said Harry.
“Now, Harry, I can see you’re going to spoil it all. The first thing you’ll do, you’ll go and shake hands with him before—”
“Never!” said Harry. “Shake the hand that—er—something or other—mm—squeezes—pinches—er—an unjust tax—er—”
“That’s rotten, Harry!” said Brick Parks.
“That tramples on our unavailable rights,” growled Gordon.
“Inalienable rights, sure—that’s what his hand tramples on—if it tramples at all.”
“Well, then, I won’t shake his foot, either,” said Harry.
They sat close to the shore, and listened for the sound of the returning canoe.
But soon the canoe glided silently shoreward with the faintest ripple.
“Where did you land them?” Harry asked Roy, who brought the canoe back.
“Just in the shadow of the fortress. They’re playing mumbly-peg with the gagged sentinels.”
“Never fear,” said Roy. “’Tis not so. Goodman Brent and Goodman Vinton are playing mumbly-peg with each other near the shore. We heard the gagged sentinels talking together a few paces off.”
“Chewing the rag,” ventured Matthew Reed.
“Now, don’t begin that, Matty,” said Harry. “You’ve been so good up to now.”
“Better send Morrel with the last load, Kid,” said Harry. “He’ll be sure to talk when he gets over.”
“Don’t call me Kid! Is that what you call respect for your leader?”
There was no need for hurry, for they did not wish to land the last boat-load until dawn and they preferred to make a number of trips rather than crowd the canoe. “For,” as Gordon said, quoting Mr. Wade, “this thing must be going on right under his very nose all night.”