he might
probably find a row-boat at the Faringfield wharves. He guessed that,
as the port of New York was open to all but the rebel Americans and
their allies the French, Mr. Faringfield would have continued his
trade in the small way possible, under the British flag, that his loss
by the war might be the less, and his means of secretly aiding the
rebel cause might be the more. So there would still be some little
shipping, and its accessories, at the wharves.

Though the British occupation had greatly changed the aspect of the
town by daylight, it had not altered the topography of that part which
Philip had to traverse, and the darkness that served as his shield was
to him no impediment. Many a time, in the old days, we had chased and
fled through those streets and alleys, in make-believe deer-hunts or
mimic Indian warfare. So, without a collision or a stumble, he made
his way swiftly to the mouth of a street that gave upon the
water-front, by the Faringfield warehouse where so many busy days of
his boyhood and youth had passed, and opposite the wharves.

He paused here, lacking knowledge whether the river front was guarded
or not. He saw no human being, but could not be sure whether or not
some dark form might emerge from the dimness when he should cross to
the wharves. These, like the street and the roofs, were snow-covered.
Aloft beyond them, but close, two or three faint lights, tiny yellow
islets in a sea of gloom, revealed the presence of the shipping on
which he had counted. He could hear the slap of the inky water against
the piles, but scarce another sound, save his own breathing.

He formed the intention of making a noiseless dash across the
waterside street, with body bent low, to the part of the wharf where a
small boat was most like to be. He was standing close to one side of a
wooden building that fronted toward the wharf.

He sprang forward, and, just as he passed the corner of the edifice,
his head struck something heavy but yielding, which toppled over
sidewise with a grunt, and upon which Philip fell prone, forcing from
it a second grunt a little less vigorous than the first. 'Twas a human
body, that had come from the front of the house at the same instant in
which Philip had darted from along the side.

"Shall I choke him to assure silence?" Phil hurriedly asked himself,
and instinctively made to put his hands to the man's neck. But the
body under him began to wriggle, to kick out with its legs,