The Portland daily press., 1892-09-09
A FAIR BLOCKADE BREAKER.
By T. G. De Loon.


". and, receiving answer, tapped at
door labeled ''adjutant general" AS
he entered, slight, boyish officer
glanced up from dispatches littering his
desk.
'sUm! you're on time" he said,
abruptly, as the neighboring. clock
changed out for midnight "a minute
later, you had found the Office shut"
81 said / would be here by twelve,
major" the spy answered. II was de-
Salnea by duty ANY orders Tor me,
sir?"
'None. Important news from your
general, though; SO Washington wires
me. He failed to strike Stuarts ad-
vance, under Rosser, that morning you
guided him to Beckley's crossroads.
The damned rebel was beforehand and
got in his rear
"Did they strike, sir? Did they cut
the general off?'' Fitzhugh asked the
questions eagerly and with strange
CLEAN in his eyes.
ssYes; they struck, and pretty hard,
too. But the general cut his way
through, rather crippled No, there is
no blame attaching to you, Fitzhugh.
The fault lies with Maj. Conyer's
scout. He is under arrest. You seem
to have done your full duty"
81 tried to do my full duty, sir" The
reply was unwonted in its meekness;
and the spy's eyes were downcast, as he
,queried: where did the general get
out? Has he made the river again?"
Eyes; but some regiments scattered,
and the stragglers come in slowly
(. 'erhey should be struck in detail
scattered along the river" Fitzhugh
said, slowly, half absently.
8 damn, it, sir, you'd better give your
views to Gen. Sheridan the infantry
major retorted, abruptly. ct am not
commanding the cavalry of the army of
the Potomac
''Beg pardon, sir" the spy answered,
not raising his eyes, in which the CLEAN
still fingered. "Am to go over? Any
orders for me?'
mo; you are to remain here-proba-
bly, accompany Gen. Baldwin on a
prison-inspection that has been de-
manded by these newspaper meddlers.
Goodnight, Caspar." The major rose,
sorting his papers, the spy turning
slowly to the door, as though regretting
something, when the officer added:
''By the way, what is this young fell
low McKee?"
Nothing, SIR" was the prompt an
swer, as Fitzhugh glanced quickly at
the questioner. ga society butterfly,
- Tod 7
presumed"
sob, no. Only, he's always SO devil
ish polite to me, for sake Of getting
passes where none are needed, that it
amounts to a bore. He talked two
hours and wasted two bottles of wine
tonight to get permits to hunt in Prince
Georges Good night"
''Good night, sir" the spy answered,
quickly leaving the room and descend
ing to the street.
Meanwhile, Mr.. Willie Mckee had
left the musicale and let himself quiet
ly into the darkened home of his wild
owed mother. Passing softly through
to the stables, he walked his groom,
gave special instructions about feeding
his best horse, and ordered his hunting
trap to be in readiness at two o'clock.
Then, mounting to his own suite, he
laid out his corduroys and boots, Sc
lected a Winchester rife from the sew
eral cases, and, carefully inspecting the
grease on the cartridges, loaded it and
tested the lock.
Next he unlocked cupboard, taking
thence and slowing in his bird-bag a
strange outfit for duck-hunt. There
were carefully tied parcels from the
druggist, hanks of silk and strong flax,
papers of needles, postage stamps, and,
last, three large, fat TASKS of brandy
labeled $780," as though to equalize
the outfit. Packing finished, Mckee re-
read the passes the federal had lately SO
condemned, made some careful memoir
anda in finest writing upon thin sheets
of paper, and drew an old pipe Of briar-
wood from his pocket. Carefully clean
ing the tube, he rolled the papers tight
ly, forced them in, and smeared little
of the nicotine on top, to color the edges
from recognition.
Lastly, the youth arrayed himself in
hunting-rig as carefully as though pre-
pairing for his wedding, humming, dur
ing the process, snatches of melody
from late opera bouffes. Then, as the
cuckoo clock on his wall cooed out the
half-hour past one, he descended softly
to the stable-yard
The hunting-trap was already rolled
out; and, packing gun and bird-bag
carefully under the heavy fur robes, the
master turned, to find his ebon groom
close at his elbow.
Mass Will, ent yo' gwine ter read da
note?'
'sWhat note, Elijah?"
'Da note da WIFI man dun lef. Wy
yo' doan' read it?'' And, for the first
time, the negro extended dingy en-
velope.
"Who left this? Did you tell anyone
Twas going gunning?" the master asked,
anxiously.
"How rs gwine tell UNI, wen amt
knowed it? an, sides. e amt AK
nuthin'," the man replied, with the ne
gro's usual indirection.
"Who left it, sir? Hold your lantern. +"
'Hew know who lef' it, wen he un-
beknowast to me an l amt yeered his
antit1e2 W'ers % az js w, in T amt fell