"
"Captain Lawton," cried the exasperated operator, "it is one thing to
despise the lights of classical learning, and another to be despised for
your own ignorance!"
A loud summons at the door of the building created a dead halt in the
uproar, and the dragoons instinctively caught up their arms, to be
prepared for the worst. The door was opened, and the Skinners entered,
dragging in the peddler, bending beneath the load of his pack.
"Which is Captain Lawton?" said the leader of the gang, gazing around
him in some little astonishment.
"He waits your pleasure," said the trooper dryly.
"Then here I deliver to your hands a condemned traitor. This is Harvey
Birch, the peddler spy."
Lawton started as he looked his old acquaintance in the face, and,
turning to the Skinner with a lowering look, he asked,--
"And who are you, sir, that speak so freely of your neighbors? But,"
bowing to Dunwoodie, "your pardon, sir; here is the commanding officer;
to him you will please address yourself."
"No," said the man, sullenly, "it is to you I deliver the peddler, and
from you I claim my reward."
"Are you Harvey Birch?" said Dunwoodie, advancing with an air of
authority that instantly drove the Skinner to a corner of the room.
"I am," said Birch, proudly.
"And a traitor to your country," continued the major, with sternness.
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