Nathan's explanation gained much sympathy and a ready promise of a.s.sistance. There was little time to spare, but the lads tarried long enough to eat a hearty meal. That finished, the trader took them to the bank of the river directly opposite his house, and pointed out the mulberry-tree to which he had been tied by hostile Indians some years before, and where he would have been burnt to death had not aid arrived in the nick of time.

Then, in haste to the Three Stars Tavern on Front Street, where the Philadelphia coach, with three elderly pa.s.sengers inside, was about ready to start. John Harris paid the fares, and after shaking hands with the lads and bidding them come to see him again, they mounted to the outside seat beside the driver. A couple of minutes later the blasts of the coaching-horn rang through the little settlement, and the long ride had begun.

Nothing worthy of special mention took place during the journey.

Pa.s.sengers got on and off, stoppages were made for fresh horses and meals, and the nights were spent at wayside towns. The lads' incidental expenses were paid by the driver, in accordance with secret instructions given him by the kind-hearted trader.

Lancaster was reached on the evening of the first day, and here the night was spent. The two following days were rainy, and the muddy condition of the roads made traveling slow. The lads remained outside, sheltered by a sail-cloth hood that was stretched over the top of the seat. Under other circ.u.mstances they must have enjoyed the journey, but the shadow of the terrible events they had so lately pa.s.sed through was still upon them. They could not forget the horrors of Wyoming, the vexatious escape of Noah Waxpenny, and the tragic death of Barnabas Otter and the Tory ruffian. Nor was the future free from worry. Nathan felt a burning impatience to reach the Shrewsbury, and he could not rid himself of the fear that he would find his father either dead or gone.

G.o.dfrey, on the other hand, was concerned not a little for his own safety. In spite of the a.s.surances of his companion, he believed himself to be in danger. And there was some ground for this fear. The lad, though not a spy, was still a British officer and loyal at heart to the cause of the enemy. And he was on his way to Philadelphia, where there was a strong likelihood of his being recognized as one of that hostile army which had occupied the city during the previous winter.

Nathan tried to inspire his friend with confidence, and partly succeeded. Neither cared to be questioned concerning their past adventures and their future plans, so they held aloof at all times from their fellow-pa.s.sengers. The driver was a garrulous fellow, but fortunately with an inclination to do all the talking himself. This just suited the lads, and from morning till night they listened with feigned interest to his accounts of coaching experiences and his remarks on pa.s.sing scenery.

On the evening of the fourth day after leaving Harris's Ferry, just as dusk was falling, the coach rumbled down to Middle Ferry on the Schuylkill, and the pa.s.sage across in a big flat-boat was quickly made.

Then followed a short ride through the fields and woods in the cool of the evening, and a spirited dash down Chestnut Street, where the good citizens of the town were smoking and gossiping at their front-door steps. Taranta, taranta, tara! sounded the horn as the lumbering stage turned into Fifth Street at the corner of the State-House, and a minute later the panting steeds drew up at their destination--Homly's Inn at Fifth and Walnut Streets. The painted face of Benjamin Franklin beamed a welcome from the creaking signboard that swung under a lighted lantern, and there was further encouragement to the thirsty and hungry travelers in the following printed couplet:

"Come view your patriot father! and your friend, And toast to freedom, and to slavery's end!"

Nathan and G.o.dfrey climbed down from the high seat, and stood looking about them. Of the half-dozen pa.s.sengers in the stage some had already entered the inn, and others had trudged away in the shadows of the night.

"The dear old town again!" said Nathan; and a tear glistened in his eye.

"It seems too good to be true!"

"I know how you feel," replied G.o.dfrey, "and I'm sorry I can't feel that way myself. But all I'm thinking about is getting away from a place where recognition will mean danger."

"And I'm in as big a hurry to leave as you are," said Nathan. "There are miles and miles between me and that farm-house on the Shrewsbury where my father is lying wounded--perhaps dead."

"Not that," G.o.dfrey answered quickly. "You will find him getting well--I'm sure of it. And where are we going first? Not to the inn, I hope--"

"No," interrupted Nathan, "I'm too anxious to see Cornelius De Vries.

We'll go straight there, and get supper and a night's rest, and then we'll arrange about the rest of the journey."

"Lads, there's good cheer to be had inside," called the driver, as he started to lead the horses to the stable-yard. "Homly's the man to give you a meal and a bed."

"Thank you, but we have friends here," Nathan replied.

"All right! Good-bye, and good luck to you!"

"Good-bye!" the lads answered; and then they started briskly up Fifth Street. They reached Chestnut Street, where there were plenty of lights and people, and crossed to the opposite side. On the corner Nathan halted and turned around.

"There's no danger," he said, noticing his companion's uneasiness.

"We'll go on in half a minute--I want to take a look at the State-House.

There's a light in the big hall, and up yonder hangs the dear old bell--the bell that rang out liberty for us two years ago."

"For you, not for me," G.o.dfrey gently reminded.

"Oh! I forgot!" Nathan exclaimed contritely. "Forgive me, old fellow. I should have known better than to stop you here--we'll go on now."

But it was too late. During that brief interval of delay, un.o.bserved by the lads, a ragged and sinister-looking man of middle age had been staring keenly at G.o.dfrey, whose features were partly exposed to the glimmer of a street lamp. Now he came quickly to the spot, barring the way up Fifth Street for the lads.

"It's you, is it?" he said insolently, with a leer of malice at G.o.dfrey.

"I thought I weren't mistaken. And what are you doing in Philadelphia, my fine British officer? Did you just wake up and find the red-coats gone? Or did you come over from New York to look about a little--"

"You are mistaken, my good fellow," interrupted G.o.dfrey, his face turning slightly pale.

"Get out of the way," Nathan added angrily. "Don't stop us here--"

"I'm not mistaken," the man a.s.serted loudly; "not a bit of it. I know who I'm talking to--your name's Spencer, and you were here with the British last winter. Don't be in a hurry to get away, you and your friend."

"Who is he--do you know him?" Nathan asked in an undertone.

"I do now," G.o.dfrey whispered. "His name is Burd, and he kept a store up near the barracks. I had him arrested by the guard for threatening Major Langdon. He's going to give us trouble, Nathan. Look, the people are beginning to notice us--"

"Whispering treason, that's what you are," exclaimed the ruffian. "No such doings, my fine fellows. It's lucky I saw you--"

"We must get away at once," muttered Nathan. "What a fool I was to stop you here! Now will you get out of the way?" he added to the man. "You're making a mistake that will cost you dear--I am a son of Captain Stanbury of the American army, and a soldier myself--"

"A likely story!" sneered the ruffian; and that quickly, as the lads started to move, he threw himself upon G.o.dfrey and bore him hard back against the corner of the house. "A spy! a spy!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

Nathan lost his temper completely, and like a flash he fetched the man a stunning blow in the face that made him release G.o.dfrey. A second blow sent him staggering to the edge of the sidewalk, where he set up a prodigious shouting for help.

Clamor and confusion followed, and escape for the lads was out of the question. As they stood side by side against the wall they were quickly hemmed in by an excited mob, and so deafening was the noise that they could not make themselves heard. Men came running from every direction--citizens, store-keepers, tavern loungers, lads eager for a fight, and a few crippled and bandaged soldiers.

"Spies! spies!" they howled. "Kill them! hang them!"

Nathan, feeling himself to blame for the trouble, stepped a little in front of G.o.dfrey. He had a pistol in his pocket, and this he pulled out with a flourish, though he hoped to avoid the necessity of using it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: NATHAN PRESENTED HIS PISTOL]

"Listen, my good people!" he shouted. "There must be some here who know me. I am an American soldier, and my companion is not a spy--"

It was no use. He could not make himself heard. Closer and closer pressed the mob, inflamed and urged on by the ruffian, Burd. The sight of the lad's drawn pistol kept the foremost back a few paces, but those in the rear began to hurl missiles. Stones and clubs struck the wall on both sides of Nathan, and a rotten apple burst on G.o.dfrey's shoulder.

The crowd was increasing, and the clamor was waking noisy echoes in other quarters of the town.

Nathan's pallor gave way to a flush of anger. "Keep back!" he roared.

"Keep back, or I'll fire. You cowards! Give me a chance to speak."

The uproar deepened, but the circle widened a little at the ominous look of the weapon. Then, just as a rush began in the rear, a hoa.r.s.e shout of "The watch! the watch!" rose above the clamor of voices. The sound of dull blows were heard, and right and left through the parting crowd, wielding their staves at every step, came a dozen men of the town watch. At their head, and seemingly acting as the leader, was a man wearing a sword and a military coat. Without ceremony he s.n.a.t.c.hed Nathan's pistol.

"Keep close to me," he commanded, "and walk boldly."

At once the men of the watch surrounded the two lads and led them quickly across Chestnut Street. The crowd followed, hooting and yelling, but taking good care not to venture within reach of the staves. Right into the State-House marched the officer, the watch, and the prisoners, and a moment later G.o.dfrey and Nathan crossed the threshold of the large chamber on the eastern side of the first floor--the same in which the memorable Declaration of Independence had been signed.

Here several lights were burning, and a number of men were standing about in groups. The watch had halted in the hall, but the officer entered with the lads, and turned to a man who had just come forward.

The latter was tall and wore a long cloak of light material. As the glow of a lamp flashed on his face it revealed the familiar features of General Washington.

"Sir, I have obeyed your orders," said the officer. "These young gentlemen were the cause of the disturbance, and they can explain for themselves. I think you will recognize one of them--"

"Nathan Stanbury!" exclaimed Washington. He held out his hand, and the stern expression of his face relaxed.

"It is I, sir," replied Nathan, stammering in his surprise. Before he could say more two arms were thrown around him from behind, a kiss was planted on his forehead, and the familiar voice of Cornelius De Vries cried: "My dear lad! G.o.d be praised!"