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 the campaign 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 ready for 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 Enoch and 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 much more, 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 in him 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, I am: 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 you have 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 nigh on 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 had arrived 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."