Here he stood in full relief against the sky, when the red-cap
cocked his pistol and fired. The ball whistled by Sam's head. With the
lucky thought of a man in an emergency, he uttered a yell, fell to the
ground, and detached at the same time a fragment of the rock, which
tumbled with a loud splash into the river.
"I've done his business," said the red-cap, to one or two of his
comrades as they arrived panting. "He'll tell no tales, except to the
fishes in the river."
His pursuers now turned off to meet their companions. Sam sliding
silently down the surface of the rock, let himself quietly into his
skiff, cast loose the fastening, and abandoned himself to the rapid
current, which in that place runs like a mill-stream, and soon swept
him off from the neighborhood. It was not, however, until he had
drifted a great distance that he ventured to ply his oars; when he made
his skiff dart like an arrow through the strait of Hell Gate, never
heeding the danger of Pot, Frying-pan, or Hog's-back itself; nor did he
feel himself thoroughly secure until safely nestled in bed in the
cockloft of the ancient farm-house of the Suydams.
Here the worthy Peechy paused to take breath and to take a sip of the
gossip tankard that stood at his elbow. His auditors remained with open
mouths and outstretched necks, gaping like a nest of swallows for an
additional mouthful.
"And is that all?" exclaimed the half-pay officer.
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