“Very well,” said Mrs. Seymour, for she knew Caesar and Caesar’s ways, and moreover had much confidence in his ability to take care of her, as well as of his horses.  “Then take the turn to the right, as you propose.  Are you quite sure you are familiar with the road here, Caesar?  It will be dark soon, and I confess I should not like to lose our way.”

“Not gwine to lose de road wid dis chile on de box,” said Caesar with fine disdain, as he climbed to his seat and rolled himself up warmly again, his teeth chattering as he did so.  But he said to himself, as the horses started slowly, “Pray de Lord I ain’t mistooken; don’t want to fall into none ob dem old redcoats’ han’s, Caesar don’t, dat’s sartain.”

Inside the coach, which lumbered on so slowly that it almost seemed to crawl, Mrs. Seymour and Betty tried to keep up their spirits by an occasional remark of cheerful character, and Betty suggested that perhaps some bread and cheese from the Beebe larder would prove satisfactory to Caesar; but on asking the question Caesar only shook his head, and responded that he was too busy looking after the horses to eat; and the long hours dragged on as it grew darker and darker.  Betty rested her head against the door and peered out at the dripping trees, whose bare limbs stood like skeletons against the leaden sky.  Mrs. Seymour had sunk into a fitful doze by her side.  Suddenly the off horse gave a plunge, the coach tilted far to one side, and then righted itself as Caesar’s loud “Whoa, dar!  Steady! steady!” was heard.  Then Betty saw half a dozen shadowy forms surround them, and a voice said sharply, “Who goes there?  Halt!” and a hand was laid roughly on the door of the coach.

“Pray who are you who detain ladies on a journey?” said Mrs. Seymour, addressing the man nearest her.  “I am in my own coach with a maid on our way to New York, and one of my horses has cast a shoe.”

“Stand aside there,” said another voice impatiently, as an officer dismounted from his horse, and flung the rein to one of the men.  “If you are bound to a city occupied by the British, you must have safe-conduct, madam, else we are compelled to search and detain you.”

For answer, Mrs. Seymour drew out a folded paper, which the officer, straining his eyes in the fast-fading daylight, read aloud, as follows:—­

“After the expiration of eight days from the date hereof, Mrs. Seymour and maid have permission to go into the city of New York and to return again.”

“Given at Morristown this second day of December.

“G.  Washington.”

“From the commander-in-chief,” said the officer, raising his hat, as he motioned his men to stand back.  “Madam, permit me to present myself as Lieutenant Hillhouse of the Connecticut Rangers, and pray command my services.”

“Oh,” gasped Betty, from the other side, “our own troops, thank Heaven!”