Patriots, Redcoats and Spies by Robert J. Skead

Author:Robert J. Skead
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Zonderkidz
Published: 2015-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“What’s that?” John said softly. He sat up, struggling to focus his eyes in the darkness. The shadowed outline of a man was tightening the girths on George. But where was the other horse? John kicked his sleeping brother, and rolled, reaching for his weapon. It was gone! He reached again and rustled the leaves. At the sound, the mysterious man turned towards John, then quickly vaulted up into the saddle.

With a surge of adrenaline that shook the last of the sleep from his body, John jumped to his feet and stumbled toward George. “Ambrose!” he shouted as he leapt and pulled the man off the horse.

George reared and snorted.

“My musket’s gone!” Ambrose yelled from somewhere behind him.

John and the intruder landed a few feet from each other. Like a bobcat, the man leapt on top of him. His fist collided with John’s head. Using all his might, John propelled the man off him with his legs. He grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it, but the man’s hand grabbed his arm and some of it fell into his own face. Suddenly, Ambrose’s body crashed into the thief and the man tumbled off John. John rolled and struggled to his knees, his head throbbing. The thief collapsed on his chest with a groan, but then he shook Ambrose off with surprising speed and scrambled to his feet, his dark eyes flashing in the moonlight.

Ambrose stood and readied his fists for battle.

“I ain’t afraid of you,” the thief snarled as he put up his own hands.

In the distance, John heard the blast of a musket. He turned in the direction of the noise, but could see nothing in the darkness. “There must be another one,” John shouted. Taking advantage of the distraction, the thief dashed toward George, grabbed the saddle horn, and put one foot in the stirrup.

Ambrose was right behind him. John scrambled toward their firepit and grabbed a rock just as Ambrose pulled the thief off his horse. Ambrose swung a hard right hook, slamming his fist into the man’s face just below the temple.

With a grunt, John hurled his rock through the air, and it struck the man in the side of the neck — a wicked blow! It was matched by a swift kick to the groin from Ambrose that sent the thief to his knees in agony. Ambrose picked up another rock and swung it at the man’s head. Blood spurted from a gash on the side of his forehead, and the man tumbled hard to the ground. He lay motionless.

John fell to his hands and knees to avoid any possible gunfire. “Get down,” he ordered his brother.

Ambrose crouched beside him.

“My gun is missing,” John whispered.

“Mine’s gone too,” Ambrose said. “Is he alone?”

John didn’t move. “Nice job staying awake. I can’t believe you. Of all the stupid things you’ve ever done —” He stopped himself and instead looked at the man on the ground. “I hope you didn’t kill him.”

“Shut up! All right!” answered Ambrose. “I know.

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