#DailyLines #MOBY #WRITTENInMYOwnHEARTSBlood #Book8 #OutJUNE10th #welcometoPhilly The house was occupied; there was smoke drifting from the west chimney. The door was locked, though, and bolted to boot. “I wonder what happened to the old door?” John said to Hal, trying the knob again, just in case. “It used to be green.” “If you knock on this one, you might conceivably get someone to come out and tell you,” Hal suggested. They weren’t in uniform, but Hal was noticeably on edge, and had been since their call on General Arnold. The General had been understandably reserved, but civil, and after reading Fraser’s letter over three or four times, had agreed to give them official passes to remain in the city, and to make such inquiries as they saw fit. “With the understanding,” Arnold had said, a flash of his reputed arrogance showing through the façade of governorship, “that if I hear of anything untoward, I’ll have you both arrested and ridden out of the city on a rail.” “On a what?” Hal had said incredulously, he having not encountered this peculiarly American method of making guests feel unwelcome. “A rail,” Arnold had repeated, smiling genially. “Long piece of wood? Used for fences, I believe?” Hal had turned to John, one eyebrow raised, as though inviting him to translate the speech of some Hottentot, randomly encountered. John sighed internally, but did so. “An undesirable person is mounted on the object in question,” he said, “straddling it. Whereupon a party of men lift either end and set off through the streets with it, decanting the rider outside the city. I believe tar and feathers are sometimes applied as a preliminary gesture, though the physical effects of the rail are generally presumed to be sufficient.” “Flatten your ball-sack like a horse stepped on it,” Arnold said, still smiling. “Won’t do your arse any good, either.” “I should imagine not,” Hal said politely.
Posted on: Wed, 04 Dec 2013 10:38:53 +0000
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