Margaret ran upon the old scout and kissed his bearded cheek.

“Reg’lar lightnin’ hurler!” said he.  “Soon as this ’ere war is over I’ll take a bee line fer hum—­you hear to me.  This makes me sick o’ fightin’.”

“Will you give me a ride?” Margaret asked her lover.  “I’ll get on behind you.”

Solomon took off the saddle and tightened the blanket girth.

“Thar, ’tain’t over clean, but now ye kin both ride,” said he.

Soon the two were riding, she in front, as they had ridden long before through the shady, mallowed bush in Tryon County.

“Oh, that we could hear the thrush’s song again!”

“I can hear it sounding through the years,” he answered.  “As life goes on with me I hear many an echo from the days of my youth.”

They rode a while in silence as the night fell.

“Again the night is beautiful!” she exclaimed.

“But now it is the beauty of the night and the stars,” he answered.

“How they glow!”

“I think it is because the light of the future is shining on them.”

“It is the light of peace and happiness.  I am glad to be free.”

“Soon your people shall be free,” he answered her.

“My people?”

“Yes.”

“Is the American army strong enough to do it?”

“No.”

“The French?”

“No.”

“Who then is to free us?”

“God and His ocean and His hills and forests and rivers and these children of His in America, who have been schooled to know their rights.  After this King is broken there will be no other like him in England.”

They dismounted at Arnold’s door.

“For a time I shall have much to do, but soon I hope for great promotion and more leisure,” he said.

“Tell me the good news,” she urged.

“I expect to be the happiest man in the army, and the master of this house and your husband.”

“And you and I shall be as one,” she answered.  “God speed the day when that may be true also of your people and my people.”

2

He kissed her and bade her good night and returned to his many tasks.  He had visited the forts and batteries.  He had communicated with every outpost.  His plan was complete.  About midnight, when he and Solomon were lying down to rest, two horsemen came up the road at a gallop and stopped at his door.  They were aides of Washington.  They reported that the General was spending the night at the house of Henry Jasper, near the ferry, and would reach camp about noon next day.

“Thank God for that news,” said the young man.  “Solomon, I think that we can sleep better to-night.”

“If you’re awake two minutes from now you’ll hear some snorin’,” Solomon answered as he drew his boots.  “I ain’t had a good bar’foot sleep in a week.  I don’t like to have socks er luther on when I wade out into that pond.  To-night, I guess, we’ll smell the water lilies.”