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Page 32 text:
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AN ADVENTURE OF A REVOLUTIONARY SCOUT Lying in the shade of a huge oak was a young man clad in a rough brown uniform of an army scout. On the ground beside him were his canteen and a small paper of lunch, which he had received from a frendly mountain lady that morning. As he reclined slowly, eating his noon day meal, he re- viewed what he had done and planned. That morning he had left his company with order to discover the where- about of the enemy, and to learn as much about their movements and plans as he was able. Before daylight he had eaten breakfast in the home of a hospitable mountaineer. As he started on his way, the thoughtful wife had pressed into his hands enough food for another lunch. Since then he had traveled over rough mountain country and through dense woods, but he had met no one, nor had he seen signs of anyone having been in that section of the country. He was now in the vicinity of Charlotte, where Cornwallis was ex- pected to join his forces with what Tory forces Major Ferguson could collect in the country joining Mecklenburg. It was to watch this “Wily-fox” that he was commissioned, and it would take all of his resources to keep track of him and his movements. He had come up from the south and had not seen anything of the enemy. He decided to turn to the north-west and approach the town from that quarter, provided he could not locate Cornwallis before he reached Charlotte. Having decided on the course that he would follow, he hastily ate the last of his lunch, took a long drink from the canteen, and rose slowly to his It was a warm day in the early part of the summer of the last year of the war—one of those days when everything and everybody seem sleepy and lazy. John G--------tall, slender, and burned by the sun, enjoyed a big yawn and stretched himself as comfortably as a cat just aroused from her warm bed in the chimney corner. He aroused himself with a jump and whistled to his mare grazing near by. With one arm thrown around her neck and the other softly stroking her nose, he whispered to her, “Nance, old girl, it’s many a narrow escape we’ve had, but we’ve come through unhurt, and we’re ready for another ad- venture. Let’s find ’em, Nance, let’s find ’em, and carry word back to our General.” With these words he jumped lightly upon Nance’s back, and she, almost without guidance, headed toward the northwest. About three o’clock they came out on a well beaten road. John jump- ed from his horse and examined the tracks that were plainly visible. It ap- peared to him that a company of horsemen had traveled this road, going north, as late as that same morning. Whether they were “Red-coats” or Americans, he could not tell. At any rate, whoever they were, they would not stop to camp before dark and then he could see their campfire before running upon them; or, if they were not far in the advance of him, the dust
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Page 33 text:
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that they would raise would serve as sufficient warning for him to seek the brush. So he kept to the road where riding was easier and much more pleasant. He had not gone far when a small shower fell, settling the dust and cooling the atmosphere. He rode with a bare head, humming a tune, and enjoying the beauty of nature. It was spring—the trees were green and the birds were calling to each other in the woods. His thoughts, for a moment, were on anything else other than warfare. Suddenly his reverie was inter- rupted by the ringing command, “Halt”! He could not afford to be captured! His thoughts were rapid, and his actions were equally so. Nance had gotten him out of more than one tight place—she could get him out of this one. Leaning forward on her neck, he whispered, “Go Nance”! She knew the tone of her master’s voice; so she shot forwards as if on A fleeting glance toward the side of the road revealed a group of eight or ten men. As he passed they jumped for their horse and were soon in hot pursuit. John leaned further over Nance’s neck, urging her on. He was well in advance of the pursuing enemy and could have escaped, if there had not been an accident. Nance—Nance who had always been so sure-footed- stumbled and pitched her rider overhead, she herself falling with a broken leg. With one shot he ended her misery, and hastened into the brush before the British could reach the spot and dismount. When they rode up and dis- covered the state of affairs, they hurried into the woods in search of the Rebel. They gained on him rapidly and finally surrounded him. He, pulling out his sword, backed up against a tree and there fought for his life. Their number was against him. After having received three saber cuts on the face, a gash on one knee, and two thrusts in the body, he fell. The British searched his pockets and left him for dead. A few hours later some of his friends passing along the road recognized the mare lying there. Wondering what had become of John they searched on both sides of the road until they found the body stretched out on the cold damp ground, where it had been left by the British. They had begun to make arrangements for the burial, when he having revived somewhat said, “Boys, 1 am hardly ready to be buried yet. Carry me off and I shall live to hang them yet.” By M. G. G. ’18.
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