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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Pilot"

You wish to
be snug--I wish to serve a brother in distress. Through that window you
must be supposed to fly--no matter how; while by following me you can pass
the sentinel, and retire peaceably, like any other mortal, on your own
two stout legs."
This was a result that exceeded all that Manual had anticipated from
their amicable but droll dialogue; and the hint was hardly given, before
he threw on the garments that agitation had before rendered such
encumbrances; and in less time than we have taken to relate it, the
marine was completely equipped for his departure. In the mean time,
Captain Borroughcliffe raised himself to an extremely erect posture,
which he maintained with the inflexibility of a rigid martinet. When he
found himself established on his feet, the soldier intimated to his
prisoner that he was ready to proceed. The door was instantly opened by
Manual, and together they entered the gallery.
"Who comes there?" cried the sentinel, with a vigilance and vigor that
he intended should compensate for his previous neglect of duty.
"Walk straight, that he may see you," said Borroughcliffe, with much
philosophy.
"Who goes there?" repeated the sentinel, throwing his musket to a poise,
with a rattling sound that echoed along the naked walls.
"Walk crooked," added Borroughcliffe, "that if he fire he may miss."
"We shall be shot at, with this folly," muttered Manual.
"We are friends, and your officer is one of us."
"Stand, friends--advance, officer, and give the counter-sign," cried the
sentinel.


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