"As I said before, it does not become a soldier to speak ill of his superior officer; but you shall hear what the world knows about General Lee. He was formerly in the British army, and served under Burgoyne in Portugal, where he was made lieutenant-colonel. He was with Braddock when that officer was defeated on the banks of the Monongahela, and with Abercrombie at Ticonderoga. After that he lived for some time with the Mohawk Indians, and was such a restless, jealous, quarrelsome man that they gave him the name 'Boiling Water.' He left the king's service, and came over here in '73, claiming to be in sympathy with the colonists, and succeeding so well in his pretensions, or his faith, whichever you choose to call it, that when the Continental army was organized he received a commission as major-general. That didn't satisfy him, patriot though he claimed to be, and he demanded that Congress make good to him any loss he might sustain by reason of having given up his commission with the British army. In '76 Congress loaned him thirty thousand dollars, without any security other than his own name on a bond."
"He got a good price for his services. Why, even General Washington himself hasn't been given that much!"
"No, nor any part of it, outside of his pay. Now what has Lee done for the cause? When General Washington was pursued across New Jersey in '76by Cornwallis, Lee followed with a heavy force; but although called upon again and again by the commander-in-chief to strike a blow at the pursuers, he refused to obey—or neglected to do so, which amounts to the same thing."
"Why?"
"Perhaps because he hoped some disaster would befall General Washington, and he be given command of the army. Then, long after Cornwallis gave up the chase, Lee hung around New Jersey until he found a chance—that's the way I put it—found a chance to be captured by a small British scouting party, and was taken prisoner to New York. He was soon hand in glove with General Howe and his officers, and there are many of our people who say he told all he knew regarding our condition and plans. Then came the farce of exchanging him for some officer we had captured, and only two weeks or less ago he showed his cloven foot again, according to my way of thinking."
"In what way?"
"The Congress ordered that the oath of allegiance be administered to the officers here at Valley Forge before the beginning of the campaign, and Lee was forced to come up with the others. When he and two or three more had their hands on the Bible, he took his off when General Washington began to read the oath. The commander waited for him to put his hand back, and he withdrew it again before the words could be read. Then General Washingtonasked what he meant, and he said—these are the very words as they were told me by one who was there—'As to King George I am ready enough to absolve myself from all allegiance to him, but I have some scruples about the Prince of Wales.'"
"What did he mean by that?"
"According to my idea it was only an excuse to get out of taking the oath, but those present seemed to think it only one of his odd traits, and passed it over as something not to be remembered. I bear it in mind, though, and want you to do the same if you are ever where it is possible to learn anything regarding him."
"But it isn't the duty of a private to watch his superior officers," Enoch ventured to suggest.
"It is in this case, for I look on General Charles Lee as a man who can, and will, if he gets the chance, do more against the cause than even Howe himself."
Enoch was impressed by what Greene had told him; but he did not believe it could ever be possible for him to detect an officer, second in rank only to the commander-in-chief, in treasonable practices. Besides, it appeared to him a very disgraceful duty to impose upon a boy who was not yet a soldier, and, perhaps, would have remonstrated, but that Jacob appeared just at that moment.
Master Ludwick was not looking particularly cheerful, and Greene whispered as he approached:
"I'll venture to say that old Chris the baker has been giving his son a lesson on the patriotic idea ofexpecting a rich reward whenever he chances to be of service to the cause. Old Chris isn't that sort of a man."
It seemed very much as if the spy was correct in his guess, for Jacob had nothing more to say against enlisting, but appeared anxious to know when Enoch proposed to sign the rolls.
"Have you decided to do so?"
"Yes," was the curt reply.
"To-night?"
"If I don't there won't be much chance of getting rations."
"But I thought you counted on staying with your father?"
"I have changed my mind," Jacob replied as if the subject was not a pleasant one.
"What have you done with your horse?"
"Father thought he ought to be turned over to the army, and then I couldn't be accused of stealing him for my own benefit."
"I reckon I'd better do the same thing," Enoch said, trying not to smile when Greene indulged in an expressive wink. "Where can it be done?"
"I'll show you the ropes, or, what is better, do the business for you," the spy replied. "I reckon you want to see Seth Graydon a spell before we leave?"
"That is what I would like to do."
"Go in that direction," and Greene pointed to the right, "until you have passed a lot of cannon; then turn to the left, and you'll be in the midst ofthe Jersey boys. I shall find you there, and we'll call on General Dickinson before starting."
"What did he mean?" Jacob asked as the spy walked away with Mr. Wharton's steed. "Are you counting on going anywhere?"
Enoch explained to his comrade what it was Greene had proposed, and concluded by saying:
"We'll have a talk with Seth. If he thinks I can really be of as much service in the city as here, I shall go."
"And I'll be with you! This enlisting ain't what I've always thought it was, and if I can get out of camp without father's knowing it, I'll be all right."
"Without his knowing it? Do you think he would object to your going back?"
"I don'tthinkanything about it, 'cause I know. There's no need of telling any one else, Enoch, but he raised an awful row when I talked about being an officer, and when I said I guessed I wouldn't enlist he flew into a terrible rage. He acted as if it would just suit him for me to be marched out somewhere and shot at."
It was with difficulty Enoch could refrain from laughing at the disconsolate expression on Jacob's face; but he succeeded in checking his mirth sufficiently to say in a sympathetic tone:
"Of course he doesn't want you shot, Jacob; but you must remember how much your father has done for the cause, and I suppose it made him angry when you spoke of being paid for the little we did last night."
"Made him angry? Why, he flew way off, an' I thought one spell that he was going to flog me. If I can get away when you do, it'll be all right."
"I have been told that it isn't possible to walk out of a military camp whenever you choose. You must have a pass, or something of that kind."
"We didn't have any trouble to get in here."
"Not after we told who we were and that we intended to enlist."
"You said that; I didn't."
"Yes; but you came in, and I don't think it will be very easy to get out again unless your father knows you are going."
"Then I shall stay here as long as I live, except that fellow Greene would be willing to say I could do a deal of good in the city. Will you ask him?"
Enoch promised to do as his friend wished, but at the same time he did not believe the spy would be very eager for this addition to the party.
The boys had been walking during the conversation, and by the time it was concluded they had passed the artillery park, arriving at that portion of the encampment where the New Jersey troops were quartered.
Seth was on the lookout for them, and the warmth of his greeting was particularly pleasing to Master Ludwick, who felt decidedly sore in mind.
That Seth was proud of being an officer in the Continental army both Jacob and Enoch understood during the first hour spent in his company. The fact was clearly apparent in his manner of showing them around the encampment, explaining the location of the different troops, the routine of a soldier's life, and displaying his proficiency in the manual of arms.
"I never had an idea that there was so much to be learned before a fellow could make any show as a soldier," he said when, the exhibition drill being ended, he led the two boys to his quarters. "It seemed to me only necessary to stand in line, or be able to load a musket; but that is a very small portion of the work."
"I suppose you know it all by this time," Jacob said in an envious tone.
"Indeed I don't. I have only just begun to learn; but if I'm not a good soldier within a year, it will be because peace is declared too soon, or I have been wounded or killed. The members of our company are well trained, and seem willing to help me along."
"If I couldn't find out all there was for a private to know in a week, I'd give up trying," Master Ludwick declared emphatically.
"Then you may as well never try."
"I'm not certain that I shall."
"What?" and Seth looked thoroughly astonished. "I thought your greatest desire was to enlist?"
"I've changed my mind about that since last night."
"Since last night? Why, after what you two have done it seems as if the only thing left was to enlist. You surely can't go back to Philadelphia—"
"That isn't so certain. Enoch is going with Greene, the spy, and if I can give father the slip I shall travel in his company."
As a matter of course Seth was eager to understand what Master Ludwick meant, and in the fewest possible words Enoch explained the proposition that had been made to him.
"I suppose of course it's your duty to go if you can be of any service," Seth said slowly; "but I have counted so much on having you and Jacob for comrades that it will be a big disappointment. It is too bad for you not to be members of the army now when it seems as if the end of the struggle was close at hand."
"What has happened to make you think anything of that kind is near?" Enoch asked in surprise. "Philadelphia is still in the possession of the British; General Washington has not moved from these his winter-quarters, and at the very beginning of thecampaign General Lafayette has been forced to retreat."
"But the alliance will make a great difference. Now that we are to have the assistance of the French troops—"
"What do you mean?" and both Enoch and Jacob looked bewildered.
"Haven't you heard that the French king has acknowledged the independence of the United States, and declares that he will befriend us?"
"I knew last winter it was hoped such might be the case, but don't understand that anything has been effected toward that end as yet."
"Then General Howe has succeeded in keeping the news from our people better than I supposed possible. You should have been in camp here from the third to the seventh of this month, and then you would have understood what hopes every one is building upon the alliance. It was announced to the army on the third, and on the seventh the soldiers celebrated the good news."
"I wish our friends in Philadelphia could know of it," Enoch said, half to himself.
"They will know before a great while, that you may depend upon. It is rumored here that war is to be declared between France and England, and that what are called 'conciliatory bills' have been offered in Parliament."
"What do you mean by conciliatory bills?" Enoch asked in perplexity.
"As it has been explained to me, the British government will make peace with the colonies—"
"That is what the king will try to do," a voice cried, and, looking up, the boys saw Greene, the spy, who had approached near enough to overhear a portion of the conversation without having been seen. "Nothing short of our independence will, I hope, please our leaders. The bills you speak of are merely deceptionary measures, so General Washington says. The king will give us a little more liberty than we have had; but doesn't propose to allow us to become a nation by ourselves. You don't seem to be aware of how well we are progressing, Enoch, my boy. The French king has declared himself our friend; there is no question but that war will soon be proclaimed between France and England, and what more particularly concerns you is, that the British are making preparations to evacuate Philadelphia."
Enoch and Jacob looked at the speaker in surprise which bordered on bewilderment.
"Do you mean that General Howe will march out of the city when there is no necessity of his doing so?"
"He will unquestionably march out very shortly; but there is good reason for the move. He has accomplished nothing by remaining there, and fears he may find himself in trouble. Four days before the carnival Howe issued an order for the heavy baggage of the army to be prepared for embarkation at the shortest notice, and for the soldiers to lighten their personal luggage. If that doesn't mean that the Britishers are getting readyfor some kind of a move I'm very much mistaken. There is yet more news for you, boys. It is evidently a fact that peace commissioners have been appointed by the king, and are now on their way to this country."
"Can that be possible?" Enoch asked, and Seth nodded his head triumphantly as he replied:
"You should have been here at Valley Forge to learn the news, not in the city where the Britishers suppress everything that isn't pleasing. There can be no question about the commissioners, as Mr. Greene says, for it is reported in the army that Washington wrote to Congress regarding the conciliatory bills and the fact that the commissioners are coming to this country, saying in the letter: 'Nothing short of independence, it appears to me, will do. A peace on any other terms would, if I may be allowed the expression, be a peace of war.' You can see we are progressing famously, and that the time is come when the king realizes how nearly we have gained our independence."
"Then if I go to the city with Mr. Greene I may be fortunate enough to see the Britishers marching out?"
"Who can say but that you will be the first to bring the news to this army that the capital of our country is no longer in possession of the enemy?" the spy added in a triumphant tone. "Now, I fancy, Master Ball, you will have no hesitation about doing as I wish?"
"I am ready to go whenever you say the word."
"Then it is time we were making a move. General Dickinson wants to have a word with you before we go, and I propose to set out as soon as your interview is ended."
"What about my going too?" Jacob asked eagerly. "Surely I have been able to do as much as Enoch—perhaps more, for he is willing to confess that but for me he would never have known where to get horses for last night's ride."
"That matter is already settled, Master Ludwick," Greene replied with just a suspicion of a smile. "I committed to your father's care the horse Enoch rode, for it would have cost me too much time to have turned him over to the quartermaster in due form, and then promised that I would not countenance your leaving camp."
"So my father had an idea I would want to go?"
"Yes, when he learned I was to take Enoch."
"He may think he can keep me here; but I doubt it," Master Ludwick said sharply. "It will be necessary for him to watch me very closely, because it doesn't appear to be such a hard matter to give him the slip."
"You may think differently after making the attempt. Do you fancy the men here are allowed to roam about at will?"
"I reckon I shouldn't have much trouble in getting away if I tried hard."
"You will soon learn to the contrary, if you make the attempt. At all events I am bound by my promise not to allow you to accompany Enochand I. Seth, if you want to send any word to your mother we may have an opportunity of speaking with her before many days."
"If Enoch sees her he knows what I would say. I am more than contented, for I am happy at being a soldier at last, and hope before this campaign ends I shall have done that which will prove I am true to the cause."
Greene was not disposed to make any further delay.
His instructions were to be in Philadelphia before the following morning, and since at least half of the journey must be made on foot, there was no more than sufficient time remaining to accomplish his purpose.
Seth and Jacob accompanied Enoch to General Dickinson's quarters, and waited outside until his interview with the commander of the New Jersey militia was at an end.
"What did he say to you?" Master Ludwick asked when Enoch finally emerged from the building.
"Nothing of much importance that I am at liberty to repeat," Enoch replied guardedly. "He thanked you and I for what we did last night—"
"I should think it was about time somebody thanked us," Jacob grumbled.
"Surely General Lafayette spoke very kindly."
"Yes; but that is all he did do."
"Well, General Dickinson didn't say very muchmore, and surely our night's work wasn't so dangerous after all."
"Weren't we chased and fired at?"
"Yes; but not hit."
"Then I suppose if we had been killed they would have thought we had done something wonderful," Jacob grumbled.
Enoch did not care to enter into any argument with his friend concerning a matter which, in his opinion, had already been fully discussed, and put an end to the conversation by extending his hands to his comrades as he said:
"Good-by, fellows! If nothing happens to me, and the Britishers do leave Philadelphia, you'll see me precious soon after they have gone."
"Try mighty hard to be the first to bring us the news," Seth said in a cheery tone as he pressed Enoch's hand warmly, and Jacob added:
"You two fellows seem to be having all the luck, even though I am the one who does most of the work."
"You get just as much luck as any of us," Enoch replied, "and perhaps more than Seth did, for he had to walk all the way to Valley Forge, and you rode. Now you have a good opportunity to enlist, and I hope you will do so instead of moping because matters are not exactly to your liking."
Then Master Ball, motioning to Greene that he was ready for the journey, set off down the path which led to the main road.
"That boy of Ludwick's has got something inhim if he would only give it a fair chance to come out," the spy said when they were a short distance away. "The trouble with him is that he made up his mind he had done a wonderful thing in bringing information of the enemy's movements last night, and counted so surely on being given a commission as a reward that it has unfitted him for ordinary duties."
"Jacob means well at heart."
"I believe you, lad—that is to say, he did up to last night, but that little affair seems to have spoiled him entirely."
"He will soon get over it, and by the time we come back, if we ever do, he will be in a fair way to become as good a soldier as Seth appears to be."
"Don't make the mistake, lad, of questioning whether we are ever coming back. I grant you the work we're on is dangerous; but the chances of our being captured are not as great as the possibility of our being killed if we were going into battle. To anticipate danger is, to my mind, a good bit like inviting it, and the man who expects to be shot has given himself a deal of unnecessary worriment, if it so chances he comes out of the engagement unscratched. If, when we get to work, you are constantly thinking your arrest as a spy is certain to happen, you won't be so keen on the scent of news as you would if the venture was, to your mind nothing more than a pleasant excursion."
"I suppose you think I am frightened. Well, Iam: but that won't interfere with my doing all you require."
"I don't believe it will, lad. You have got the right kind of pluck, and I am counting on your distinguishing yourself between now and the time the Britishers leave Philadelphia. Here are our horses, and this time you are riding a nag belonging to the Colonies; not one you have been obliged to impress."
"I thought we would be forced to walk!"
"We shall ride as far as it is safe to do so, and stop at the farm where I am supposed to be working. The man who owns it is a true friend to the cause, and through him I am enabled to do very much more than would otherwise be possible, for he supplies me with all the vegetables I can sell. It isn't such a bad idea for him either, for he gets the money at the same time he is serving his country, and the market-stoppers never trouble me."
"What do you intend I shall do in town?"
"First of all, simply go home, providing we arrive there so early in the morning that you can get in without being seen. If your mother reports that the Britishers have been looking for you, leave town immediately, and make your way back to the farm without giving any heed to me. In such case I shall be deprived of your services, for we cannot keep you here if you are under suspicion. Should it chance, however, as I anticipate, that you are not known to have done more than aid Seth Graydon's escape, you will simply loiter around the city as youhave been doing, meeting me in the market-place when you have anything to report, and, in case of important news, such as you learned last night, make your way to the farm at the earliest possible moment."
"You spoke to Seth of the chance that I might see his mother?"
"Yes, there is no reason why you should not go there, if matters are as I suppose. In fact, Enoch, you will do exactly as you have been doing, and with the assurance that I shall be on the alert in case any danger threatens."
Greene spoke of the duties to be performed in such a matter-of-fact tone, treating the business as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, that long before they arrived at the place where the horses were to be left all sense of peril which had hung over Enoch was dispelled, and he felt confident of being able to successfully perform the work required of him.
Not until nightfall was the first stage of the journey ended, when the two partook of an appetizing meal, rested an hour, and then set their faces cityward, each carrying on his back a small assortment of vegetables.
"We shall be there a good while before morning," Enoch suggested when the long tramp was begun.
"I count on arriving shortly after midnight."
"But you can't go to the market-place until sunrise."
"Neither do I want to do so, my boy. I shall have an excuse for loitering around town, and you may rest assured I don't waste my time during the hours of apparent idleness."
"I should think the Britishers would be suspicious of your getting into town at midnight."
"Bless you, lad, I've done the same thing for the past three months, and been stopped by the patrol so many times that now they all know me. It no longer excites surprise because I am so particularly attentive to my business. My explanation is that I get a better price for the marketing if I am first upon the ground."
As the journey progressed the miles seemed to Enoch to have doubled in length, and the burden on his back increased tenfold in weight; but he toiled manfully forward, repressing, so far as possible, every evidence of fatigue lest the spy should think him one easily discouraged.
As they neared their destination there was less inclination for conversation, and when half an hour had passed in silence Greene said in a cheery tone:
"Your friend Seth, with all his marching and counter-marching, shouldering and carrying arms, isn't forced to work as hard as you have been doing this night, lad."
"But I am not grumbling."
"I am well aware of that, my boy, and proud of the fact, for it shows I wasn't mistaken in my estimate of you. I know you are tired, though, for I am, and I have been over this road in the same fashion nighon to a hundred times. It is the hardest kind of hard work; but there's a big satisfaction in doing it, for we know that it insures our safety when we are among the Britishers."
"Suppose you should meet any of the enemy who had seen me when I was in jail with Jacob? Wouldn't it cast suspicion on you?"
"Not a bit of it, lad, for I am ready in case that happens, and it wouldn't be strange if something of the kind should occur. Here is the story: You found it necessary to go to work in order to help support your mother, because in these days I don't fancy she has as many scholars, either in French or dancing, as a month ago, when times even with the enemy were more prosperous. I have hired you to help me bring in my goods."
"But doesn't it seem strange that you shouldn't come in with a wagon?"
"Not a bit of it, and for this reason: The Americans might seize my horse, and pay for it with an order on Congress, or the British might do the same thing and give me English gold. In either case I should be the loser, if I was really what I represent myself, for horses can't be purchased readily even though one is willing to pay a big price, and that fact is well known. Only those farmers living near the town, and who are assured of General Howe's protection because of their Tory sentiments, venture with their beasts where it is so easy to lose them."
It was half an hour past midnight when they hadarrived opposite the Carpenter mansion, and there, to Enoch's alarm, they were halted by a patrol.
"It's only me, cap'n," Greene said when the command to halt was given.
"You still believe in the luck of being first at the market-place, Daniel," the sergeant in command of the squad said with a laugh.
"And it is luck, cap'n. I haven't missed of sellin' all I've brought a single day since you Britishers come here."
"And you think that wouldn't be the case if some one got in ahead of you?"
"It mightn't be."
"But there are plenty who don't arrive until daylight, and yet sell all their wares."
"I allow that's a fact, cap'n dear; but who gets the best price? The early bird like me what can afford to haggle for an extra sixpence, or them as have only time enough to sell out and get home before dark?"
"There may be some truth in that, my man; you appear to be a rare one for driving bargains. But who is this with you?"
"A city-bred lad what has found out at last that he's got a livin' to earn. He's the son of the Widow Ball on Letitia Street—she's an old customer of mine. I sold her enough potatoes for winter early in the fall, and got the money before I brought 'em in."
"You are not wise in your choice of an assistant,Daniel," the sergeant said in an admonitory tone. "Young Ball isn't looked upon as an honest lad."
"What do you mean by that?" and the alleged farmer gave evidence of the liveliest alarm. "His mother told me he wouldn't take a pin's worth that didn't belong to him."
"All of which may be true; but certain it is that he has been suspected of having an affection for the rebels, and it isn't many days since he came out of jail, where he was held on suspicion of having aided a spy to escape."
"Oh, is that all you've got agin him? I allowed from the way you began it was something serious."
"And don't you call acting the rebel a serious matter?"
"Not in a boy like him, cap'n. It's a way all young chaps have. They think it's a sign of smartness to side with the under dog in the fight; but after a few hard knocks that is thumped out of 'em, an' this one is as loyal to the king as I am."
"It won't do any harm to keep your eye on him, at all events, Daniel, for if he should indulge in more disagreeable practices he might get not only himself, but you, into trouble."
"I reckon hard work will take all that out of him, and after he's tramped in here a dozen times he'll be glad to stay at home instead of cavorting 'round with the rebels, though I should be the last to say anything agin 'em."
"What do you mean by that?" the sergeant asked sternly.
"Why, ain't they doing me a mighty good turn, cap'n? If it wasn't for them all you Britishers wouldn't be here, and I should have to take less than half-price for my truck, and trust the biggest part out at that."
"Oh, I see," the sergeant replied laughingly as he ordered his men to move on. "It's the pounds, shillings and pence that touch you more deeply than anything else. Good-night to you, Daniel. Don't charge more than three prices for your truck, and see to it that your assistant behaves himself."
"It is evident there has been no very great hue and cry over you and Jacob since yesterday afternoon," Greene said in a whisper as the patrol passed on in advance, "otherwise the sergeant would have known it. There's nothing now to prevent our carrying out the plan as I had allowed. Keep your eyes open, lad, and don't stay in the house a single minute after daylight."
Enoch soon learned that the most difficult task which confronted him in his new line of work was to persuade his mother he was not exposed to any more danger than he would be on the battlefield.
She, remembering Seth's capture and narrow escape from the scaffold, insisted her son should refuse to assist Greene the spy in any way. She was willing for Enoch to enlist; but objected most strenuously to his doing that which, if discovered, would doom him to a disgraceful death.
During the first two hours spent at home the boy used every argument to convince her he would not be in any greater danger than he had been since his release from jail, and not until he had begged she would consent to his carrying on the work "because he had promised, and would be ashamed to go back to camp with the excuse that his mother would not allow him to do anything of the kind," did she give an unwilling consent to the proposition.
"I shall live in constant terror of hearing that you have been arrested and sentenced to be hanged," she said finally; "but will try to hide such fears because you have given your word to cease playing thespy as soon as you can honorably leave the work and enter the army."
Enoch was more than willing to agree to this; he preferred to serve his country in any other way than that which he had just begun, and would welcome the time when he could stand boldly before his friends and acquaintances as a Continental soldier.
Agreeably to the promise made Greene, he was on the street as soon as daylight, and during the entire day lounged around the city, listening eagerly for scraps of important conversation whenever he passed a group of men; but hearing nothing which might benefit his friends.
Late in the afternoon he succeeded in gaining an interview with Seth's mother, and, by approaching the house from the rear, had been able to gain access to the premises without being seen by any one save her.
As a matter of course she was greatly rejoiced at learning that her son was safe and happy, but during the past few weeks she was not unduly anxious concerning him, for Lord Gordon assured her that since the boy had not been brought back to Philadelphia he was unquestionably with the Continental army.
"It hardly seems as if Lord Gordon was an enemy of ours," the good woman said when she had finished telling Enoch of that gentleman's kindness. "He has acted the part of a true friend, and although he refuses to admit that he had any share inSeth's escape, I am positive you and Jacob could not have succeeded but for him."
"He's a gentleman all the way through, that's what he is!" Enoch replied emphatically, "and I only wish we might have a chance to pay him for what he has done."
It was not safe to prolong the interview lest some of Mrs. Graydon's boarders should see the visitor and suspect he had just come from Valley Forge, therefore the boy left the house immediately his budget of news had been unfolded.
During the week which followed this visit Enoch worked industriously and conscientiously, spending his entire time on the streets, but without learning anything of importance.
Just before daybreak each morning he went to the market-place, where he was certain of meeting Greene, but not once had he anything to communicate.
"It seems as if I was wasting my time here," he said despondently on the morning of the eighth day when he and the spy were sheltered alike from the rain that was falling steadily and the observation of the enemy's patrols, through having sought shelter in a shed near the market-place. "I walk around all the time; but hear nothing except what it is possible the peace commissioners may accomplish when they arrive."
"It isn't to be expected you can bring in valuable news when everything is as quiet as appears now."
"Yet I might be of service in the army."
"No more than you are here. Except for the fact that they are drilled each day, Seth and Jacob are as idle as you."
"Has Jacob enlisted?"
"Yes; he could not hold out longer against his father's commands. Old Chris was ashamed because his son did not appear eager to enter the army, and declared that the boy should not leave the encampment, save as a soldier. Jacob tried twice to run away, but was stopped by the guard, and when the last failure was reported to the old baker he declared the boy must earn his livelihood in some way, so set him to work in the bakery. That was not at all to Master Ludwick's liking, and twenty-four hours later he was in the same company with Seth. I now make it a point never to visit camp without reporting to them as to your safety."
"Of course they know I am doing nothing."
"They know, as do all your friends and acquaintances, that you are here in a post of danger, on the alert for whatever may chance to occur."
"But there doesn't seem to be a likelihood anything of importance will happen. Since Sir Henry Clinton has taken Howe's place as commander of the army, it appears as if his plan was to remain idle, contenting himself with depriving us of our capital."
"His inaction is but the lull before the storm. General Washington feels so positive some decided movement is planned for the near future that all the troops at Valley Forge are ready to act at a moment'snotice, and it is from you and I, as well as other friends of the cause here, that he expects to receive information which will enable him to checkmate the enemy. Don't grow despondent because you accomplish nothing great at once; but remember that the longer matters thus remain apparently stationary the nearer we are to a crisis."
This conversation served to cheer Enoch wonderfully, and as the days went by his mother was more reconciled to the part he was playing, although she reminded him daily of the promise to give up his task as a spy at the first good opportunity.
On the fourth of June, the king's birthday, Enoch saw the peace commissioners enter the city, received with courtesy by Sir Henry Clinton and his army, but neither the boy nor any true-minded American believed they would accomplish anything after General Washington had pronounced so decidedly against treating with the king on other terms than that of independence for the colonies.
So far as Enoch could learn, the commissioners did nothing save allow themselves to be entertained by the officers and Tory families. Congress refused to receive them until after the "hostile fleets and armies had been withdrawn, or the independence of the United States acknowledged," and, so far as advancing the king's cause was concerned, they might as well have remained at home.
Another week passed in what to Enoch seemed like idleness, and then Greene electrified him by announcing:
"Within a few days we shall see stirring times, and you will have no further cause to complain that you are doing nothing."
"What have you heard?"
"Nothing; but I have noticed that preparations are being quietly made for a general move—"
"I can't see that there has been any change."
"Nothing to particularly attract attention, I'll admit; yet it is a fact that the troops are nearly ready to evacuate the city, or make a forced march to Valley Forge for the purpose of attacking our camp."
"Is it possible General Clinton would do that?"
"It is possible, but not probable. My idea is that the Britishers will leave this city bag and baggage before we're many days older."
"I don't understand why they should."
"It is feared by the enemy that General Washington may strike a blow at New York, and Clinton's troops are needed there to prevent a possible disaster. Then again they are accomplishing nothing here, and the British government don't relish the idea of paying twelve or fifteen thousand men for holding a town which is of no real benefit, save as a loafing-place for the officers."
"If they evacuate this city will they be allowed to go away without being molested?"
"I think we can trust General Washington to take care of them, and when you see the redcoats start you can be mighty certain a battle ain't far off."
"And I won't be in it!" Enoch exclaimed mournfully."Seth and Jacob will play the part of soldiers, while I hang around here as if I was afraid."
"I promise faithfully that you shall be in the thick of any scrimmage that comes, so don't let such thoughts worry you. Have patience a few days longer, and keep your eyes open wider than usual."
"Is there anything in particular to be done?"
"Loiter around the City Tavern as much as possible. The officers may give their friends an idea of what is going to happen, and you stand a good chance of overhearing the gossip. The lightest hint now from a prominent Tory will have a big meaning."
From this moment it appeared to Enoch as if he could perceive a change of demeanor in those whom he met. The British officers no longer sauntered to and fro as if time hung heavily on their hands, but went from point to point rapidly, much as though they had business which would permit of no delay.
The Tories, who during the winter had assumed a lordly bearing, now looked anxious, and well they might, for their lot would not be an enviable one when the Continental army stood in the place of the redcoats, and those who had been oppressed because of loyalty to the cause would be in a position to demand reprisals.
It seemed to the boy as if nearly all whom he saw were aware of the impending change, and hewent about his business of listening with more confidence than ever before.
On the night after his last conversation with Greene he saw an unusually large throng in front of the City Tavern, and, as a matter of course, pretended to be on the point of entering the building in order that he might mingle with the bystanders.
Ordinarily he would have moved slowly onward to prevent any one from suspecting he really wished to listen, but on this night, excited beyond the bounds of prudence, he deliberately halted in front of a group composed of two officers, a citizen, and a Quaker who had the appearance of having just come from the country.
"The fact is known to but few, and we depend upon our friends in whom we have confided to keep it a secret," one of the officers was saying as Enoch approached.
"There is little doubt but that thy plans are known to the rebel Washington, for his men are ready to execute a quick movement," the Quaker replied. "It is to be regretted that any of the citizens were trusted with thy secret, for all are not loyal to the king."
"Very true, friend Williams; there are more of King George's enemies in Philadelphia to-day than there were two weeks ago. The belief that his majesty's troops are about to leave has made those who had a leaning toward the rebels brave, and they now hope to find favor in the eyes of the new rulers of the city."
"Has the day been fixed upon?" the man in citizen's garb asked, and Enoch pressed yet nearer to hear the reply.
So eager was the boy to learn this most important bit of information that he gave no heed to the fact he was pressing against the Quaker more rudely than would have been proper even if they had been crowded for space, and before the officer could speak Enoch was seized suddenly by the ear.
Looking up quickly and in alarm, he saw that his captor was the Quaker, and now for the first time realized that the man's face was one he had seen before, although where he could not remember.
"Thou art an eavesdropper, lad, and one who makes it his calling, if I do not mistake," the Quaker said sternly. "What business hast thou here?"
"I was going into the tavern, sir," Enoch replied, his cheeks crimsoning with shame, and then he tried to wrench himself free regardless of the pain, for he recognized in his captor that Quaker at whose house General Lafayette had established his headquarters on Barren Hill.
"Thou wast not thinking of going into the tavern—at least, not until thou hadst learned the purport of our conversation. Have I not seen thee before?"
"I have always lived in this city, and it may have been that you and I have passed each other on the street," Enoch replied, with much stammering and show of confusion.
"I have seen thee elsewhere, lad. Unless I much mistake thou wast one who brought to the rebel Lafayette, when he was in my house, word that General Howe had started in pursuit of him."
"What is that?" one of the officers asked quickly, stepping in front of Enoch to peer into his face. "Are you certain this boy carried that information, Friend Williams?"
"It may be I am mistaken; but it does not seem possible. The lad much resembled this one; I saw him only for a moment, yet then I had a full view of his face."
By this time several of the gentlemen nearest had gathered around to learn the cause of the disturbance, for all, even including the Quaker, were displaying considerable excitement, and Enoch was so hemmed in that escape seemed impossible.
"It should be a simple matter to ascertain if he is in the rebel service," the second officer suggested. "A squad of our men chased two boys on that night, and, so it was reported, wounded or killed one of them. We will send this fellow to the guard-house until he has been seen by all. I would like to get hold of a few spies before we leave the city."
Enoch knew that even if those who had chased Jacob and himself failed to identify him, there were very many British soldiers, as well as officers, who knew him as one suspected of aiding Seth to escape, and that his doom was sealed once he was in custody.
It was absolutely necessary, if he would save his life, to make a supreme effort to get free before a squad of soldiers could be summoned, and even though he should fail, his position would be no more desperate than it already was.
The Quaker still retained his hold of the boy's ear, and one of the officers was grasping him by the collar, while on every side the throng was so dense that there appeared little hope he could force his way through, even though no one tried to detain him.
It was, perhaps, because of this fact that the officer's hold was by no means firm; but the Quaker was clutching his ear as if anticipating an attempt at escape.
The gentleman in the broad-brimmed hat was, therefore, the greatest obstacle in Enoch's road to freedom, and he it was who must be vanquished before further move could be made.
One of the officers had gone in search of the guard, and Enoch resolved on making a desperate effort.
Hanging back as far as possible in order to give greater effect to the blow, he suddenly lowered his head and darted forward at full speed.
The Quaker was taken by surprise, and could make no effort to protect himself. Enoch launched against him with all his strength, bringing forth a shrill cry of pain as the man of peace was doubled up like a pocket-knife, giving the boy an opportunity to leap directly over him.
Two other men were thrown down, and those who had been on the outskirts of the throng rushed quickly toward the immediate scene of action, thereby preventing the officer and his companion from giving chase.
Enoch ran as he had never run before, knowing full well that his life depended upon fleetness of foot, and before the excited men were fully aware of what had happened he was out of sight around the corner.
A pile of logs an hundred yards distant seemed to offer a temporary hiding-place, the whole being stacked up so loosely that he could readily make his way among them, and here he crouched, understanding that if he threw the pursuers off the scent now there was a fair possibility of escaping.
Nothing could have been done better on Enoch's part.
Such of the throng as were first around the corner shouted that the boy had taken refuge in the rear of the house, as seemed to be the case since he was no longer in sight, and the building was instantly invaded by a mob eager to hunt down a spy.
The shadows of evening were gathering, and Enoch knew if he could remain hidden half an hour longer his chances of escape would be good; but yet it was not safe to stay amid the logs.
As soon as it was learned that he had not taken refuge in the tavern, it would be suspected that he must have hidden in the immediate vicinity, and every nook and corner would be searched.
He began to have some idea of how a fox must feel when the dogs are on his scent, and the knowledge that he was battling for life removed, for the time being, all sensation of fear.
Creeping out to the very end of the logs he looked ahead.
In that direction was no place where he could be hidden.
In the rear two or three men at the corner of the building stood as if expecting he would appear at one of the windows.
"My only show is at the river," he said to himself. "If there's a boat afloat I may get away, and must take the chances."
Waiting only long enough to make certain no one was looking toward the log-pile, he darted out, stooping low that he might be the less likely to attract attention, and bending all his energies toward maintaining a swift pace.
Once he heard a loud shout, and he leaped forward yet more quickly, believing the pursuers were on his trail; but as he ran the noise died away in the distance, and he understood that he was safe for the moment.
There was no question in his mind but that every effort would be made to capture him.
He was suspected of aiding in Seth's escape; the Quaker declared he had brought to General Lafayette the first news of General Howe's advance, and he had been caught while trying to overhear a conversation which was intended to be private.
"They've got proof enough that I'm a spy," he said to himself as he ran, "and the hanging would come mighty quick after I was caught. I shall be in a bad fix if I don't find a boat."
On arriving at the water's edge his courage failed him, and he looked wildly around, seeing no hope.
The only boat in either direction was hauled high up on the shore, and was so large that the united strength of two men would be no more than sufficient to move her. A short distance away, to the right, was a small sloop heeled over on the sand as she had been left by the workmen engaged in caulking her bottom.
Unless he made the desperate and dangerous attempt to swim across the river, this sloop was the only available hiding-place, and he was so nearly out of breath that it was absolutely necessary he should halt a few moments before continuing the flight, if indeed that would be safe now so many were undoubtedly searching for him.
There was no one to be seen on the land, and the ships of war lying at anchor in the river were so far away that he knew those on board could not distinguish him in the gloom.
He clambered up the almost perpendicular deck of the sloop, and from thence through the open hatchway into the hold.
Now he could rest, but it must only be until night had fully come, and then the flight was to be continued, unless before that time the enemy had captured him.
Crouching in the darkness of the tiny hold, panting so loudly from his severe exertions that it seemed as if the pursuers must hear him, Enoch tried to decide what his next move should be; but without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion.
Unless some one came to the shore in a small boat, leaving the craft afloat, he could not escape to the Jersey side of the river, and even if he gained the opposite bank there was no guarantee of his safety.
He was not acquainted with any one there, and would be forced to take refuge in the woods.
It did not seem possible he could make his way to the house where Greene professed to be working, for every patrol and sentry would be on the alert to prevent his escape in that direction.
"I shall have to go down the river, and take the chances of hiding in the woods," he said to himself. "It's a mighty slim show, but is considerably ahead of a Britisher's prison. I'll start in ten minutes, for by that time the night will have fully shut down, and trust to the chance of making my way along the shore."
He had hardly thus decided upon his course of action when the sound of footsteps on the sand caused his heart to beat yet more furiously, and it surely seemed as if fate was against him when he heard voices near at hand, as if the speakers had halted close beside the sloop.
While one might have counted twenty Enoch was in such a tremor of fear as not to understand whatwas being said, and then he was aroused to a sense of duty by hearing the words:
"I have a copy of the order which will be issued on the sixteenth, and until then it must remain a profound secret, for Sir Henry is determined the rebels shall have no information of this move."
"Already it is common talk that we are to evacuate the town, and the boy who was detected listening in front of the tavern had probably been sent to learn the date of the movement."
"Did they capture him?"
"No; but it is only a question of time, for men are out in every direction, and it's certain he can't make his way toward the American lines unless all our patrols are asleep."
The suggestion of the unknown speaker that it would be impossible for him to make his way toward the American lines without detection was by no means comforting to Enoch.
It was a situation, however, which he had anticipated, for he understood that the English would make every exertion to capture the messenger who had carried information to General Lafayette, and thereby, perhaps, saved him from capture.
In addition Enoch knew that the Tories would be most eager in their present mood to make him prisoner, for now that it seemed certain the city was to be evacuated, those who had been living a life of ease and comparative plenty because of their loyalty to the king felt particularly irritated against the Americans, who it was believed would so soon change very decidedly this satisfactory condition of affairs.
Enoch wondered not a little who the speakers were, and why they had chanced to halt directly outside his hiding-place.
From what he had heard he believed they weremembers of the army, and it seemed strange they should have strayed down to the river bank, until the apparent mystery was solved when one of them said impatiently:
"At what hour did you understand that Lord Howe would send the boat for us?"
"Eight o'clock."
"And this was the landing-place he appointed, was it not?"
"The messenger said the boat would be put in near-by a sloop which was hauled up on the shore, and unless I am mistaken this is the only craft of the kind in the vicinity."
"I wish we might have been able to take to Lord Howe the information that the young rebel was apprehended, for I really believe he has not recovered from the chagrin of having ordered the frigate to be made ready with all dispatch to carry the Marquis de Lafayette a prisoner to England when he had captured him."
"He will have the pleasure of hearing such news before midnight, as to that there can be no doubt. You said you had a copy of the order which is to be issued on the sixteenth?"
"Yes, I saw the rough draft on Sir Henry's desk, and asked permission to make a copy for personal use. It may be the last order issued in the rebel capital, and I thought might at some time prove a curiosity."
"Can you give me the substance of it without violating any confidence?"
"I think so. I was only enjoined to keep it a profound secret from the civilians. It may be that it is yet sufficiently light for me to read it."
Then ensued a brief silence, during which Enoch's heart beat a triumphant tattoo, for he realized that now, when a moment previous it had seemed as if all his opportunities for gaining information were lost, he was about to learn that which General Washington was so eager to know.
The fugitive crouched yet nearer the deck-planking as Lord Howe's intended guest read slowly: