HARVEY BIRCH AND CAPTAIN WHARTON
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER，an American author of distinction，was born in 1789.His works are remarkable for their delineation of Indian character and their deion of naval scenes.
The following extract is from the Spy，in which Harvey Birch is a spy in the confidence of Washington，and Captain Wharton is a prisoner whom Birch is attempting to rescue in the disguise of a negro，C？sar，who has taken his place in the prison.
1.THE road which it was necessary for Harvey Birch，the pedler，and Captain Wharton to travel，in order to reach the shelter of the hills，lay，for half a mile，in full view from the door of the building that had so recently been the prison of the latter；running for the whole distance over the rich plain，that spreads to the very foot of the mountains，which here rise in a nearly perpendicular ascent from their bases；it then turned short to the right，and was obliged to follow the windings of nature，as it won its way into the bosom of the Highlands.
2.To preserve the supposed difference in their stations，Harvey rode a short distance ahead of his companion，and maintained the sober，dignified pace that was suited to his assumed character.On their right，the British regiment of foot lay in tents and the sentinels，who guarded their encampments，were to be seen moving，withmeasured tread，under the skirts of the hills themselves.The first impulse of Wharton was certainly，to urge the beast he rode to his greatest speed at once，and，by a coup-de-main，not only to accomplish his escape，but relieve himself from the torturing suspense of his situation.But the forward movement that the youth made for this purpose was instantly checked by the pedler.
3.”Hold up！“he cried，dextrously reining his own horse across the path of the other；“would you ruin us both？Fall into the place of a black following his master.Did you not see their blooded chargers，all saddled and bridled，standing in the sun before the house？How long do you think that miserable Dutch horse you are on would hold his speed，if pursued by the British？Every foot that we can gain without giving the alarm，counts us a day in our lives.Ride steadily after me，and on no account look back.They are as subtle as foxes，aye，and as ravenous for blood as wolves.”
4.Henry Wharton reluctantly restrained his impatience，and followed the direction of the pedler.His imagination，however，continually alarmed him with the fancied sounds of pursuit；though Birch，who occasionally looked back under the pretense of addressing his companion，assured him that all continued quiet and peaceful.“But，”said Henry，“it will not be possible for C？sar to remain long undiscovered：had we not better put our horses to the gallop？and，by the time they can reflect on the cause of our flight，we can reach the corner of the woods.”
5.“Ah！you little know them，Captain Wharton，”returned the pedler；“there is a sergeant at this moment looking after us，as if he thought all was not right；the keen-eyed fellow watches me like a tiger lying in wait for his leap；when I stood on the horse-block，he half suspected something was wrong；nay，check your beast；we must let the animals walk a little，for he is laying his hand on the pommel of his saddle；if he mounts now，we are gone.The foot soldiers could reachus with their muskets.”“What does he do？”asked Henry，reining his horse to a walk，but，at the same time，pressing his heels into the animal’s sides，to be in readiness for a spring.
6.“He turns from his charger，and looks the other way.Now trot on gently；not so fast，not so fast；observe the sentinel in the field a little ahead of us；he eyes us keenly.”“Never mind the footman，”said Henry，impatiently；he can do nothing but shoot us；whereas these dragoons may make me a captive again.Surely，Harvey，there are horsemen moving down the road behind us.Do you see nothing particular？““Humph！”ejaculated the pedler；“there is something particular，indeed，to be seen behind the thicket on your left；turn your head a little，and you may see and profit by it，too.”
7.Henry eagerly seized his permission to look aside，and his blood curdled to the heart as he observed they were passing a gallows，that had unquestionably been erected for his own execution.He turned his face from the sight in undisguised horror.“There is a warning to be prudent in that bit of wood，”said the pedler，in that sententious manner that he often adopted.“It is a terrific sight indeed！”cried Henry，for a moment vailing his face with his hands，as if to drive a vision from before him.
8.The pedler moved his body partly around，and spoke with energetic，but gloomy bitterness，“And yet，Captain Wharton，you see it when the setting sun shines full upon you；the air you breathe is clear，and fresh from the hills before you.Every step that you take leaves that hated gallows behind；and every dark hollow，and every shapeless rock in the mountains，offers you a hiding-place from the vengeance of your enemies.But I have seen the gibbet raised when no place of refuge offered.Twice have I been buried in dungeons，where，fettered and in chains，I have passed nights in torture，looking forward to the morning‘s dawn，that was to light me to a death of infamy.The sweat has started from limbs that seemed already drained of their moisture，and if I ventured to the hole，that admitted air through grates of iron，to look out upon the smiles of nature，which God has bestowed for the meanest of his creatures，the gibbet has glared before my eyes，like an evil conscience，harrowing the soul of a dying man.Four times have I been in their power，besides this last；but，twice，twice did I think that my hour had come.
