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Updated: May 3, 2025
In another minute they came in sight, Confederate troopers, obviously scouting. Luckily, the ravine being stony and the light bad, they did not see any trail, left by Shepard's troop, and they went on down the ravine. "Shall we go on?" asked Dick. "Not yet, sir," replied Shepard. "They don't suspect that we're up here, and it's likely they're trying for a good view of our army.
Shepard, the spy, in the darkness had passed with ease between the sentinels, using the skill of an Indian in stalking or approaching, and now, lying well hidden, almost flat upon his stomach, he surveyed the camp. He looked at Sherburne, sitting on a log and brooding, and he made out Harry's figure wrapped in a blanket and lying with his feet to the fire. Shepard's mind was powerfully affected.
But Shepard's feeling for his official enemies would not keep him from acting against them with all the skill, courage and daring that he possessed in such supreme measure. He knew that it was Sherburne's task to open a way for the Army of Northern Virginia to the Potomac and to find a ford, or, in cooperation with some other force, to build a bridge. It was for him to defeat the plan if he could.
"This is Alan Hapgood," replied Polly, introducing her friends; "and this is Jessie Shepard." "You don't say so! Henry and Kate Shepard's daughter, from out in Omaha?" "Yes." Miss Bean completed Jessie's embarrassment by critically scrutinizing her from head to foot, then asking suddenly, "Do they dress much out in. Omaha?"
He began to want to talk with people, to know men and most of all to know women, but the disgust for his fellows in the town, engendered in him by Sarah Shepard's words and most of all by the things in his nature that were like their natures, made him draw back.
Up the Valley and down it, from Tuxedo to Ridgewood, there had been a half-score robberies of a very different order depredations wrought, manifestly, by professionals; thieves whose motor cars served the twentieth century purpose of such historic steeds as Dick Turpin's Black Bess and Jack Shepard's Ranter.
His own revolver was out now, and he sent a bullet into the fellow's shoulder. Shepard's left arm dropped limply. He dashed toward the door and forced his way past, firing wildly at such close range that it almost burst the gallant policeman's ear drums. Up the ladder he scurried like a wild animal, firing as he climbed. Burke was right behind him. Shepard ran for the fire-escape.
She dragged the surprised and struggling man into the front room, and held him fast, meanwhile calling loudly for help. The aged mother secured a window stick and dealt unerring blows upon the youth. After a desperate struggle, he escaped carrying a window frame and many bruises with him, but no money. The neighbors were aroused by Miss Shepard's cried and came to her relief.
He made out presently the figure of a riderless horse, standing partly behind the trunk of an oak, larger than most of those that grew in the Wilderness. Harry knew that it was Shepard's mount and that Shepard himself was some distance in front of it creeping toward the thicket which he supposed sheltered his foe.
Shepard's papers were sent home, and aroused such an interest in Calamy and others of the devout ministers in London, that the needs of the Indians of New England were brought before Parliament, and an ordinance was passed on the 27th of July, 1649, for the advancement of civilization and Christianity among them.
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