I
had used the little stove for parching my food--Indian corn, for
which I had professed a fondness to my jailer, and liberally paid
for out of funds which had been sent me by Mr. George Washington
in answer to my letter, and other moneys to a goodly amount in a
letter from Governor Dinwiddie. These letters had been carefully
written, and the Marquis de Vaudreuil, into whose hands they had
first come, was gallant enough not to withhold them--though he
read them first.
Besides Indian corn, the parching of which amused me, I had dried
ham and tongue, and bread and cheese, enough, by frugal use, to
last me a month at least. I knew it would be a journey of six weeks
or more to the nearest English settlement, but if I could get that
month's start I should forage for the rest, or take my fate as I
found it: I was used to all the turns of fortune now. My knapsack
gradually filled, and meanwhile I slowly worked my passage into the
open world. There was the chance that my jailer would explore the
knapsack; but after a time I lost that fear, for it lay untouched
with a blanket in a corner, and I cared for my cell with my own
hands.
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