Chapter 10
The room was a comfortable one, and they were tired. They arose at least an hour later than planned, dressed and went in search of breakfast. They found Mistress House in the kitchen. Her serving girls were in the dining room serving breakfast to her more proper guests. Josiah, Fanny and Katie were seated around a large round table eating cornmeal mush and drinking cider.
"Good morning," Mistress House greeted them. "I trust you slept well?"
"Excellently, madam," Mingo replied, bowing to the giggling Katie and Fanny and winking, "Ladies."
Josiah piped up, "Which one of you slept in the trundle bed?"
Daniel gave Mingo a dirty look, "I was too tired to even look for a trundle – I made up a pallet on the floor!"
Mistress House looked scandalized, "Mr. Boone, never tell me you slept on the floor!"
Daniel grinned, "I've slept rougher."
Mistress House got on with the business of getting them fed. "I can offer you coffee, tea, ale, or cider," she said briskly, "If you wish it, there is cornmeal mush, stirrabout, side meat, sweet cakes, fresh scrapple or bread." She looked them up and down, as if she hadn't really seen them the night before, and smiled. "Mr. Boone, you two look as if you could eat everything on the menu."
"Reckon we could, at that, ma'am." Daniel replied politely.
They joined the children at the table. Mistress House poured them both coffee. Fanny had finished eating, and jumped up to fill plates for both men at her mother's direction.
Mistress House, clearly, was a curious woman. "Mr. Boone, are you from these parts?" she asked. "There are quite a few Boones among the Quakers in Philadelphia."
Daniel swallowed the bite of scrapple he was chewing before answering. "Yes, ma'am. My folks were from Pennsylvania; Quakers, in fact."
"Are you a Quaker, sir?" she asked. She poured them each another cup of coffee, and continued her interrogation.
"I can 'thee' and 'thou' with the best of 'em, ma'am, but my parents were read out of the meetin' because some of my family married outside the faith."
Mistress House gave Daniel a considering, side-ways glance. "Mr. Boone, are you THE Daniel Boone everyone hears so much about?"
Daniel blushed; it was Mingo's turn to smile. "I reckon one is about enough of me, ma'am," he said modestly. "I ain't much to write home about."
"But the stories one hears!" said Mistress House, laughing.
"Greatly exaggerated, I fear." said Mingo, grinning at Daniel's discomfort. This was a mistake. It turned Mistress House's attention away from Daniel to himself.
Mistress House gave Daniel an opportunity to eat while she turned her interrogation on Mingo. "Mr. Mingo," she began politely. "My Katie is quite taken with you. Did I understand Mr. Boone to say that your father is the governor general of Virginia?"
Mingo shot Daniel an evil look for revealing this information. "Yes, ma'am. My father is indeed the governor general of Virginia. And it is just 'Mingo'."
"Yet you dress as an Indian," Mistress House persisted.
"I am an Indian, madam." Mingo replied. "My mother was a princess of the Cherokee. According to the customs of my tribe, I am also Cherokee."
"But your speech . . ." Mistress House began.
Daniel saw that Mingo wouldn't get any breakfast at all if he didn't step in.
"Mingo was educated in England. At Oxford University." Daniel recognized the mulish expression forming on the Cherokee's face; Mingo clearly hated being the topic of breakfast conversation.
"Are you a Christian, sir?" she questioned. "Do you know God?"
"Madam, I am a heathen," Mingo said in a quiet voice. "It is why my father has disowned me." He smiled suddenly. "But I worship the same Creator that you do."
Daniel sighed in relief. He feared that Mingo's heathenishness would result in them being thrown out of the boarding house.
Mistress House clearly felt that Mingo's words redeemed him. She smiled back at him. "There are a great many houses of worship in Philadelphia, Mr. Mingo. Perhaps you will find one that suits you."
Daniel deftly turned the conversation back on Mistress House. "How is it, Mistress House, that you're the proprietress of this boardin' house?"
"Widows are given preferential treatment when issuing licenses for boarding houses and taverns, Mr. Boone. I have great hopes of expanding and building a tavern on the next block." She grinned suddenly, seeming much younger and less proper. "You won't believe this, Mr. Boone, but I intend to call it The Indian Queen Tavern! Philadelphia already has an Indian King Tavern."
Daniel grinned back at her, "Well, then, perhaps Mingo here is a good omen for you, seein's his ma was a princess."
"I do hope that you are right, Mr. Boone!" replied Mistress House. "May I ask what brings you to Philadelphia, gentlemen?" she asked, all curiosity again.
"We came to look up a friend who's a doctor studyin' at the School of Medicine," Daniel told her. Forestalling the next question, he continued, "Dr. Charles Jedrick is his name. He wants to take a look at Mingo."
He gestured at the sling Mingo was wearing. Mingo rewarded him with a scowl.
Mistress House considered the name for a moment. "I know of no one by that name, but there are a great many physicians in Philadelphia. Josiah could carry a message to the University for you."
Josiah jumped up, clearly ready to earn another penny. Daniel hastily scrawled a message on a piece of paper provided by Fanny, folded the message and handed it to Josiah.
"Mr. Boone, if I might have a word with you in my office? Mr. Mingo, while I speak with Mr. Boone, and while you wait for Josiah, would you care for more coffee or food?" There was no polite way to refuse her request, so Daniel excused himself and stepped into the lady's private office.
Fifteen minutes later, Josiah was back panting. "Dr. Jedrick's compliments, Mr. Boone, Mr. Mingo. If you can hurry, he can see you right away before he begins the day's schooling."
Daniel and Mingo rose promptly and followed Josiah. The University of Pennsylvania's School of Medicine was within walking distance of Mistress House's boarding house. Daniel sauntered along, whistling off-key, enjoying the fresh, early morning air. Before it progressed much further, the day would be scented with sewage, smells of garbage and unwashed humanity. They passed gardens full of budding spring flowers, and yards with pink-cheeked serving girls pegging out wash. Philadelphia was quite clearly a booming city, plainly pleased with itself.
Daniel gestured around them, and commented "I reckon it's all right to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here."
Mingo shook his head, "Nor would I, Daniel."
**********
Josiah led them to the Surgeons Hall, where Dr. Jedrick was waiting. After being assured that Daniel and Mingo could easily find their way back to his mother's house, the boy went on his way, in search of errands to run.
"Daniel! Mingo! It's good to see two familiar faces," beamed Charles Jedrick, extending his hand. He was a handsome man, in his early 30's, well on his way to becoming one of the most highly-regarded doctors of his day.
"There's a classroom down this hall that isn't in use. We can use it for an examination room since there are no lectures scheduled for this morning," he added. "I was supposed to attend an anatomy lecture this morning, but since no cadaver provided itself for dissection, the lecture was postponed until one can be found."
He laughed at their shocked faces. "Well, gentlemen, it's a fact of life that most anatomical lessons are learned on the bodies of the indigent poor. I am particularly interested in muscle structure, and what makes the human body tick." He grew enthusiastic about his topic, and added, "Though dissecting a body is never a pleasant task, dissections during the colder times of year are preferable to using an embalmed body during the hotter months. The arsenic we must use for embalming is quite disgusting. Since no one has yet been able to understand the hieroglyphics the Egyptians left for embalming mummies, we can only hope that one day a better method of preserving bodies will be found."
Daniel wished he hadn't eaten quite so heartily at breakfast. From the revolted look on Mingo's face, Daniel guessed he was feeling the same way. They were familiar with Dr. Jedrick's enthusiasm, and hadn't any hopes of getting a word in edgewise.
Dr. Jedrick found the empty room, and led them inside. The windows were wide open, creating an atmosphere almost as cold as outdoors.
Dr. Jedrick seemed impervious to the chill, as he said, "Let's take a look at that shoulder of yours, Mingo. Daniel's letters were quite interesting. I confess, I have never dealt with an injury that responded as yours has done. Strip off your coat and shirt, please."
Mingo reluctantly pulled his coat and deerskin jerkin off, and stood bare-chested, shivering slightly, in front of Dr. Jedrick. The physician peered intently at the purplish, slightly puckered scars on Mingo's right shoulder and back. He caught Daniel's eye and gestured to the recent whip marks. Daniel rolled his eyes and shook his head. Dr. Jedrick's eyes widened but he did not pursue the matter. He indicated that Mingo should climb up on the wooden dissection table and lie flat upon his back.
Mingo hesitated.
Daniel could understand the Cherokee's apprehension. God alone knew when the table had been cleaned last, or whether a live human or dead one had lain upon it. Daniel knew that in spite of his Oxford education, Mingo was pure Cherokee when it came to superstitions about the dead. Mingo shot a nervous look at Daniel. Daniel nodded encouragingly, and Mingo did as Dr. Jedrick requested. Daniel swallowed a snicker; Mingo was lying as rigid as any corpse might have lain.
"May I?" Dr. Jedrick touched the scars gently. Mingo flinched, whether from pain or Dr. Jedrick's cold hands, Daniel wasn't sure. Dr. Jedrick grasped Mingo's elbow, and slowly moved his forearm and shoulder up and down, from right to left, in a range of motions. He nodded his satisfaction, murmuring to himself. "It would have been better had movement not been restricted during the recovery period. Still, there has been a great deal of improvement since you first wrote to me." He addressed himself to the Cherokee, "Mingo, hunch your shoulder, and try to rotate it as much as possible."
Dr. Jedrick laughed as Mingo winced at the touch of his icy hands. "Yes, cold hands will always be a doctor's occupational hazard. Believe me, the cadavers don't notice – we usually keep the windows open to circulate as much air as possible, winter or summer. The stench during dissections can be quite overpowering. We don't want the younger doctors fainting or, worse, vomiting on the corpses."
Dr. Jedrick had Mingo sit up on the table, and repeated the same range of motions.
He rubbed his hands together to warm them and then used both hands to push Mingo's upper arm back as far as possible. Mingo inhaled sharply, but made no complaint. Dr. Jedrick continued, "Show me, Mingo, how far you can move your arm yourself."
Next, Dr. Jedrick went through the same exercises with Mingo's left shoulder, carefully comparing the movement to what he could manage with his right shoulder.
Dr. Jedrick seemed encouraged by Mingo's progress. He handed him his jerkin and watched as Mingo pulled it back on, observing his motions. "Daniel, are you still helping Mingo do those 'manipulations' I sent you?" Daniel nodded, and Jedrick continued, "Mingo, the manipulations, or 'exercises', if you will, mimic the motions your shoulder should be able to perform naturally. Daniel's moving the muscles in the reverse direction helps strengthen the muscles even more. Gentlemen, the progress Mingo has made is astonishing. I am pleasantly surprised, since I had no idea whether these manipulations would work or not. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, after all! I see no need for surgical intervention, Mingo. Oftentimes a patient will succumb to surgery when they might have survived their ailment without it. I recommend only that you continue these manipulations. You might do the same exercises twice a day rather than increasing the amount of exercises. Daniel, you should continue to assist Mingo. Do you still suffer much pain when you move your shoulder or your arm?"
Mingo shook his head, and Dr. Jedrick laughed, "If you are telling me 'No', Mingo, I fear you are not being truthful. This is an extremely painful injury. What are you using for pain relief? The willow bark elixir? Hot salt compresses? Good, good," he nodded happily. "Continue to use the willow bark and salt compresses. As your shoulder improves, the pain should ease. I would advise you to wear a sling, but you must decide for yourself if it is a help or a hindrance in your daily activities. Mingo," Dr. Jedrick concluded, "if your progress continues as it has, you should have the full use of your right arm again in about six months, possibly less."
A wide smile split the Cherokee's face, the first Daniel had seen since Dr. Jedrick had begun his examination. Daniel gave a huge, but silent sigh of relief. Dr. Jedrick shook Daniel's hand, smiling broadly and gently patted Mingo's shoulder.
Dr. Jedrick waived off the payment Daniel offered, "No, indeed! You came all the way to Philadelphia to see me! I should be offering to pay Mingo, since I intend to use his case to write a dissertation on the musculature of the American male aborigine!" he added, laughing. "Promise me, gentlemen, that when I return to Harrod's Town next year, you will return and let me re-examine this shoulder."
Smiling, Daniel and Mingo took their leave of Dr. Jedrick and headed back towards Mistress House's boarding house.
"Reckon you're breathin' easier," Daniel was still grinning two blocks later.
Mingo nodded, returning Daniel's grin. "Daniel, I feel as if the weight of the world is no longer on my shoulder."
**********
They continued back towards the boarding house. Daniel was whistling again, slightly more tunefully. Mingo walked along quietly, lost in his own thoughts.
Daniel gave the quiet Cherokee a sidelong glance and grinned. "Mingo, what would you say if I suggested we go and do a little celebratin' of your good fortune?"
Mingo's thoughts had been far away, "Eh, Daniel? Celebrate my 'good fortune'?"
Daniel's grin grew bigger. "What say we go find us a tavern and do a little drinkin'?"
Mingo eyed him skeptically, "Daniel, as you well know, there are likely dozens if not hundreds of taverns in Philadelphia – this is a port, after all. There are more thirsty – and drunken – sailors here than in any other city in America! What are you planning?"
"I hear tell there's a tavern for every 25 men in Philadelphia – might be thousands of taverns!" Daniel continued airily. "We won't do much imbibin', we'll just do some listenin' while other men do the drinkin'."
Mingo rubbed his chin uncertainly, "By 'find us a tavern', Daniel, am I to assume that you already have one particular tavern in mind?"
Daniel nodded, smiling cheerfully, "It's a real pleasure dealin' with an eddicated man like yourself, Mingo. You just read my mind!"
"Which of the thousands of taverns shall we visit, Daniel?"
"Oh, I think we'd probably do well to visit 'The Man Full of Trouble' tavern, Mingo," said Daniel blandly.
"'The Man Full of Trouble'," Mingo repeated, shaking his head. "It sounds as if it has your name all over it!"
**********
The Man Full of Trouble was located at 2nd and Spruce Streets. A gaudy signboard showed a cantankerous man with a monkey on his shoulder and a parrot on his hand. He was shown walking with a woman who was carrying a bandbox with a cat sitting on it. Presumably this good woman was his wife. Mingo shook his head as they stood staring up at this garish manifestation. Quite near the docks, the place had a decrepit, decaying look to it.
"Tell me again why we are here, Daniel," he suggested. "Somehow this is not the place I would have expected you to choose for a 'celebration'."
"We ain't exactly celebratin', Mingo. Our hostess has asked us to run an errand for her. One she ain't quite sure how to handle herself. Said she thinks we're 'gentlemen of integrity and character'."
"Rather ingenuous of her," said Mingo, smiling in spite of his misgivings. "She certainly has you pegged correctly as a character!"
"I've been accused of worse things, some by my own wife," admitted Daniel.
"Daniel," Mingo hesitated, "this place looks as if its patrons are highwaymen, cutthroats, and smugglers!"
"Smugglers. It's odd that you should use that word, Mingo," Daniel said smoothly. "That's the very reason we're here."
Mingo looked incredulous. "We are looking for smugglers?"
"You ain't payin' attention, Mingo," admonished Daniel. "We have no reason to search for smugglers. It's Mistress House who needs some smugglers."
Mingo's mouth hung open, "Daniel, why the devil would a lady like Mistress House have any need of smugglers?"
"Well, she needs somethin' smuggled, of course," Daniel said cheerfully.
"Dear Lord in Heaven," Mingo said faintly. "Daniel, what have you gotten us into?"
"Thought you told Mistress House you were a heathen," Daniel pointed out. "I haven't promised her anything; I just told her we'd come by and have a look-see."
"A look-see," echoed Mingo.
"For one 'honest' smuggler," said Daniel laughing.
Mingo sighed heavily, "An 'honest' smuggler. Like Diogenes who traveled the world in search of an honest man. An exercise in futility, I fear."
**********
The two entered the tavern. A fire burned brightly in a filthy fireplace, and the room was crowded, in spite of the earliness of the hour.
Daniel led the way to the bar, "Two ales, please."
Mingo stood mute at his side.
"This your Indian?" the barkeeper inquired. "We don't serve no savages in here."
"He ain't savage. He's with me," Daniel said mildly. "I asked for two ales."
"Daniel, I advise caution," Mingo spoke in Cherokee, quietly into Daniel's ear.
"What'd he say?" demanded the barkeeper.
"He said he's hungry and he'd like some bread and cheese with his ale," Daniel responded politely.
"I told you we don't serve savages," the man retorted. He grabbed a filthy rag and began swiping at the counter angrily.
Daniel reached over the counter and grabbed the man's shirtfront. "And I told you he ain't savage, and we got some business to attend to." At Daniel's nod, Mingo pulled his long knife from its sheath. He held the blade to the greasy barkeeper's chin. Suddenly, Mingo looked like a savage, even to Daniel.
"Well, now, when you put it so nice," the barkeeper smiled suddenly, revealing black stumps of teeth, "I guess I can oblige you after all."
He placed two tankards of ale in front of Daniel, "If you'll have a seat at one of the tables, I'll bring your savage his bread and cheese."
Mingo sighed with relief, and sheathed his knife. Daniel jerked his head toward a table in the corner.
Daniel had chosen the table with care; their backs were against the wall and they could see everyone who entered the seedy tavern.
"Now what shall we do, Daniel?" Mingo whispered, still speaking in Cherokee.
"We've ordered bread and cheese," Daniel said grinning. "Now we wait for the rats to come to us."
They sat at their table sipping the watery ale, and picking at the stale bread and dry cheese. "I don't think it's the ale and food these people come here for," Daniel said under his breath.
"Perhaps it's the low company," Mingo whispered back.
"You'd better stick to Cherokee," Daniel said quietly. "Some of these fellers'd stick a knife in your ribs as soon as look at you. You don't need to give any of 'em a reason."
Several of the tavern's patrons sneaked looks at Daniel and Mingo. Others were more overt, staring openly at the two tall Kentuckians. Two burly men stood at the bar deep in conversation with the barkeeper, occasionally looking over their shoulders. As the day drew on, more customers entered the tavern and remained.
The afternoon was passing; Daniel had replenished their tankards several times. When other drinkers were watching, Daniel and Mingo took hearty gulps of their ale. When no one was looking, Daniel poured the contents of their tankards onto the taproom floor. Fortunately between the dark of the tavern, and the filth of the floor, this action went unnoticed.
Another hour passed in this manner. Suddenly Mingo remarked, in English, "Daniel, I believe I am very inebriated, or the taste of this ale has improved!" He picked up his tankard and tossed back the contents, then slammed the tankard on the table.
Daniel looked at his friend in the dim tavern light. The Cherokee was staring into his empty tankard as if mystified by how the contents had vanished. Daniel shook his head, and grinned in spite of himself. Mingo drank so rarely, that Daniel had actually forgotten that his friend couldn't hold his liquor.
Mingo blinked at him owlishly, rose suddenly and walked with exaggerated care to the bar where he stood swaying slightly, waiting for the bartender's attention.
"What're you looking for, Indian?" the barkeeper looked up from the dirty tankard he was polishing with an equally dirty rag.
"Firewater, if you please," Mingo said pleasantly, enunciating very carefully. Daniel slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning, and hurried after the inebriated Indian.
"This an Injun or a Redcoat?" the man inquired suspiciously of Daniel, as he grabbed Mingo by the arm and headed him back to their table.
"The only English word he knows is 'firewater'," Daniel threw over his shoulder as he bustled Mingo back to his seat. "Learned it off an English smuggler."
"Sit there, and remember you speak only Cherokee!" Daniel hissed at the drunken Indian. "Or better yet, be quiet!" Mingo picked up his tankard of rum, saluted Daniel with it, and winked.
Daniel turned back to the barkeeper, and handed him a coin for Mingo's rum. "Sounded mighty English to me," the man remarked. "You said he learned it from a smuggler?"
"In a manner of speakin'," Daniel said, as he passed another coin across the counter to the man. This coin was quickly squirreled away in the man's clothing. "Don't you reckon that a man who keeps the British from unfairly taxin' Americans is a patriot, not a smuggler?"
The barkeeper nodded, and Daniel passed another coin across. This one vanished as quickly as the first, and Daniel continued, "The British shouldn't be collectin' taxes anywhere in the Colonies on goods and services that don't come from England; Fat George don't need any more of American citizens' hard-won money!" Another coin changed hands, and Daniel said, "I reckon that any man who can provide Americans with goods that they want and need without 'em havin' to pay taxes on 'em is a hero!"
Mingo shouted, "Hear, hear!" from his seat. Daniel flashed him an exasperated look, and he subsided back into drunken silence.
Daniel pushed another coin across, "Me and my Indian friend are lookin' for someone who might be able to provide a certain lady of our acquaintance with goods she needs – things like Madeira, wines, tea, you know . . ." The barkeeper nodded, his interest caught by Daniel's coins and words. "We were told that there might be people in this here tavern who might could point us in the right direction?"
"You might have come to the right place," the barkeeper admitted, as another coin made its way across the counter. "We have some patriots come in here occasionally who help the good people of Philadelphia with their 'spiritual' needs."
Suddenly the tavern burst into a chorus of song; a rich baritone voice was leading the singers,
"Gallants attend, and hear a friendship
Trill forth harmonious ditty,
Strange things I'll tell, which late befell
In Philadelphia City . . ."
It was a rollicking drinking song, a popular one, and it was being roared out with great enthusiasm. Sung to the tune of "Yankee Doodle", it was called "The Battle of the Kegs," and referred to an incident in 1777, when a group of patriots pushed kegs filled with gunpowder into Philadelphia Harbor. The hope was that the kegs would blow up when they struck against British warships. Though unsuccessful, four British sailors had died in the attack. American patriots regarded the incident as highly amusing.
With a sinking feeling, Daniel realized he recognized both the voice and the singer waving his arm in time to the music. Mingo turned to Daniel, caught his eye, and winked again.
"Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood, on a log of wood,
And saw a thing surprising.
"As in amaze he stood to gaze,
The truth can't be denied, sir,
He spied a score of kegs or more,
Come floating down the tide, sir."
Mingo was clearly feeling no pain, Daniel noticed. He continued to conduct his choir of singers, all as drunk if not drunker than himself.
"A sailor too, in jerkin blue
This strange appearance viewing,
First damned his eyes in great surprise,
Then said, 'Some mischief's brewing.'"
"From morn 'til night, these men of might
Display'd amazing courage;
And when the sun was fairly down,
Retir'd to sup their porridge."
Daniel was almost afraid to look. It was worse than he thought. Mingo was now swaying in front of the fire; two of the tavern's burliest patrons had their arms around his shoulders, and were crashing their tankards together in time to the music.
"Such feats did they perform that day,
Against those wicked kegs, sir,
That years to come, if they get home,
They'll make their boasts and brags, sir!"
The barkeeper stared at Daniel, "I thought you said your Indian didn't speak any English," he said accusingly. "You ain't customs men, are you?"
Daniel smiled blandly, "He's an Indian – he ain't no smarter than any drunken magpie. He don't know what he's singin'; he's just repeatin' a song he picked up somewheres."
The barkeeper looked unconvinced, "It's a pretty long song."
Daniel shrugged, "He's pretty drunk."
**********
An hour later, Daniel had the information that Mistress House required. The rounds Daniel bought for the tavern's patrons did much to restore the atmosphere of amity in The Man Full of Trouble. As Mingo and the singers sang more songs than Daniel recognized, the Cherokee had passed from being merely tipsy to being thoroughly disguised. Daniel doubted whether Mingo could get back to Mistress House's boarding house under his own power. Since Daniel had done his own share of 'imbibin', he wasn't too sure he would be able to carry him.
Daniel inquired of the now-smiling tavern keeper, whose name was James Wetherburn, if there was a room where he and Mingo might sleep off their inebriation.
James Wetherburn shook his head, "Sorry, sir. Tonight's going to be a busy one, if you take my meaning." He winked at Daniel. He snapped his fingers suddenly and added, "If you think you could push a barrow, we've some here in the cellar."
Daniel wasn't sure he had heard correctly, "In the cellar?" he questioned.
Wetherburn grinned, "Yes, sir, we use them in the tunnel to the dock. For 'deliveries'."
Daniel scooped up his sodden friend, flung him over his shoulder, and handed Wetherburn another coin.
"Right this way, sir."
**********
It was long past lamp-lighting time as Daniel trundled through the streets with the barrow he had borrowed from The Man Full of Trouble. The Cherokee was sprawled in the barrow's tub sipping on a jug of rum he had managed to snag on their trip through the tavern's cellar, and bellowing,
"If buttercups buzzed after the bee,
If boats were on land, churches on sea,
If ponies rode men, and if grass ate the cows
And cats should be chased into holes by the mouse,
If the mamas sold their babies
To the gypsies for half a crown,
If summer were spring and the other way round
Then all the world would be upside down!"
Daniel recognized the tune as "The World Turned Upside Down," and grinned. Thank goodness Mingo was in excellent voice, because Daniel's attempts to hush him failed miserably. Windows were thrown open by giggling serving girls who waved and blew kisses. Daniel caught several by-passers singing along to the Cherokee's infectious tune, smiling as they passed.
As they reached the boarding house, the back door opened and Mistress House and Josiah hurried out. The sight of a drunken man in a wheel-barrow was nothing new to either of them: a city with thousands of taverns also had thousands of drunkards.
"Mr. Boone," began Mistress House, in scandalized tones, "What in heaven have you been doing?"
Mingo saluted her with his jug of rum and wobbled out of the barrow. "Performing the service you requested of us, dear lady," he said in precise Oxonian tones and bowed. Daniel caught the collapsing Cherokee before he hit the paving stones. Josiah caught the jug.
"Hold the door, Josiah," Daniel directed the grinning child, "Mistress House, it's been a long day. If you don't mind, I think I'll take Mingo up to our room and pour him into bed."