He smiled, “His Christian name is Richard, maybe?  I think I know your outlaw.  But let it pass.  I ask no names.  In these bad times we cannot afford to despise any man’s aid.”

He pulled out a chart of Virginia, and I marked for him our posts, and indicated the line of my own journey.

“Have you ever been in the wars, Mr. Garvald?” he asked.

I told him no.

“Well, you have a very pretty natural gift for the military art.  Your men will screen the frontier line, and behind that screen I will get our militia force in order, while meantime you are reconnoitring the enemy.  It’s a very fair piece of strategy.  But I am mortally certain you yourself will never come back.”

The odd thing was that at that moment I did not fear for myself.  I had lived so long with my scheme that I had come to look upon it almost like a trading venture, in which one calculates risks and gains on paper, and thinks no more of it.  I had none of the black fright which I had suffered before my meeting with Grey.  Happily, though a young man’s thoughts may be long, his fancy takes short views.  I was far more concerned with what might happen in my absence in the Tidewater than with our fate in the hills.

“It is a gamble,” I said, “but the stakes are noble, and I have a private pride in its success.”

“Also the goad of certain bright eyes,” he said, smiling.  “Little I thought, when I made that offer last night, I was setting so desperate a business in train.  There was a good Providence in that.  For now we can give out that you are gone on a madcap ploy, and there will be no sleepless nights in the Tidewater.  I must keep their souls easy, for once they are scared there will be such a spate of letters to New York as will weaken the courage of our Northern brethren.  For the militia I will give the excuse of the French menace.  The good folk will laugh at me for it, but they will not take fright.  God’s truth, but it is a devilish tangle.  I could wish I had your part, sir, and be free to ride out on a gallant venture.  Here I have none of the zest of war, but only a thousand cares and the carking task of soothing fools.”

We spoke of many things, and I gave him a full account of the composition and strength of our levies.  When I left he paid me a compliment, which, coming from so sardonic a soul, gave me peculiar comfort.

“I have seen something of men and cities, sir,” he said, “and I know well the foibles and the strength of my countrymen; but I have never met your equal for cold persistence.  You are a trader, and have turned war into a trading venture.  I do believe that when you are at your last gasp you will be found calmly casting up your accounts with life.  And I think you will find a balance on the right side.  God speed you, Mr. Garvald.  I love your sober folly.”

* * * * *