Enoch finally succeeded in persuading Greene that it was not necessary to arouse all the New Jersey militia in order to inform them of what had occurred, since in two hours the encampment would be astir, and then the news could be told with less inconvenience to those who might desire a full night's sleep.

"I hate to wait even five minutes, Enoch; but reckon I am bound to, if you say the word. We'll tumble into the first vacant place we find, and get a nap 'twixt now and sunrise."

This was a proposition which pleased Enoch. The journey from Philadelphia, hurried as it was, had fatigued him greatly, and he felt decidedly in need of rest.

He had hardly stretched himself out on the bed just vacated by one of the men whose turn it was to do guard duty when his eyes were closed in slumber, and it seemed to him that hardly more than a dozen minutes had elapsed before he was awakened by the hum of conversation and the trampling of many feet.

It could readily be understood that he must have been asleep several hours, and it was evident Greene had taken advantage of the opportunity to relate at least a portion of the previous night's incidents, for Enoch heard a man standing near by say in a tone of envy:

"When a boy like him is thanked by General Washington and allowed to consider himself a member of the staff, so to speak, it seems as if he shouldn't want much of anything more in this world. I have faced death many a time, and never received so much as a look."

"And so have thousands of others," Greene said sharply. "You, a man, have simply done a soldier's duty; the boy, not even a member of the army, has taken his life in his hands since he left this camp, with the chance of a felon's doom if he was captured, and I tell you what it is, Jim Downing, you never stood any nearer death on the field of battle than that lad did last night when he was recognized by the Quaker. If I had known of it at the time I wouldn't have given sixpence for his show."

"I ain't whinin', Bob Greene, 'cause of lack of luck. I'm willin' to admit that the boy has done great service, and hasn't been rewarded any too richly. I was just considerin' what I'd be glad to go through an' to suffer for the sake of what he's received."

"You're getting your reward, as a good many of us are, in the knowledge that you're doing all you can for the cause, and that ought to be enough, Jim."

"I allow there's some satisfaction in it; but it seems hard at times that a man has got only one life to give for such as we're fightin' to gain. If he had a dozen, an' laid 'em all down, it wouldn't be too big a price to pay for the independence of these 'ere colonies."

"Right you are, Downing, right you are! The pity is that more are not in the same way of thinking. Hello, Enoch! This chatter kind of disturbed you, I reckon."

"I have slept as long as was necessary," the boy said as he rose to his feet, looking almost ashamed because of the praise he had heard. "Where are Seth and Jacob?"

"Out on duty. If you stay where you are ten minutes more they'll be here, and in the meantime it mightn't be a bad idea for you to mosey over to headquarters for breakfast."

"I had rather not go," and now Enoch looked really disturbed. "Can't I get some rations here?"

"Of course you can, lad," Jim Downing said quickly as he laid his hand on Enoch's shoulder. "There won't be any trouble about that, and even if there was I'd gladly share mine with you. But why don't you want to go over to headquarters?"

"It would look as if I was trying to force my way in where I didn't belong."

"Not a bit of it. According to what Greene says you've not only got the right to go there, but it's the proper place."

"I can get along without any breakfast as well as not," Enoch said carelessly, as if to dismiss the subject; but Mr. Downing was not of the same mind.

"It does me good to see a modest youngster once in awhile, we have so few of 'em 'round about. I am told Jacob Ludwick was one of your cronies. Now I can't understand how you two boys hitched up together. He never will be hanged for modesty."

"But he is brave."

"And he means everybody shall know it. Why, since he come into this 'ere company he hasn't done much of anything he wasn't obliged to except tell about the ride you and he had from town up to Barren Hill. I don't throw any discredit on what you two did that night; but at the same time I ain't willin' to allow it was such a terrible bold thing. Bob Greene tells me you knocked down Williams, the Tory Quaker?"

"He tipped over when I ran against him, that was all."

"And I hope he struck the sidewalk hard enough to shake some little sense into his thick head. I always misdoubted that precious Quaker, though I can't say that he professed to think very highly of the cause. Leastways he didn't give out as doing so; but yet allowed us to believe he was on our side, and so had a chance to do a good bit of mischief. Now I'll look after your breakfast, and you shall have the best the camp affords."

"Can't I go with you? There is no reason why you should bring the food to me."

"It'll be just about as easy, and you may as well stay here so as to be on hand when your friends come."

"Jim" Downing was not the only man in the encampment who appeared eager to show some special attention to the boy whom General Washington had honored.

Every soldier Enoch met displayed particular regard for him, and but for Master Ball's innate modesty he might have been decidedly distorted by pride during this day at Valley Forge.

Seth and Jacob were not relieved from duty as soon as Greene had anticipated. Enoch's breakfast had been brought and disposed of before they entered the hut, and the warmth of their greetings told of the pleasure they felt in seeing him.

"If it hadn't been for father's keeping me here I'd have got just as fat a berth as has come to you, because we should have been together," Jacob said enviously. "It always seems to be my luck to have something like that happen while anything big is going on. When we drew lots it was Seth who won the chance to carry information to the Continentals—"

"That didn't seem like such very good luck when poor Seth was in prison as a spy, and with a chance of being hanged."

"It didn't just at that time, for a fact; but we got him out of the scrape easy enough."

"Easier, perhaps, than I should have been able to do if you had been in my place," Seth replied heartily, and it could readily be seen that this praise was gratifying to Master Ludwick.

"But luck wasn't against you when you planned and carried out so successfully the seizing of Mr. Wharton's horses," Enoch added. "All the credit of that piece of work is certainly due to you."

"Yes, and see what I got out of it! General Lafayette was much obliged, and that's all. I wasn't even allowed to do as I wanted to, but had to enlist when I could have gone with you and earned for myself a share in the commission you are likely to receive."

"But he ain't likely to receive a commission," Greene interrupted. "Nor he wouldn't take one if the commander-in-chief should be so foolish as to offer it. Enoch is a boy that has a pretty good idea of what he can do, and you'll never find him trying to get above himself."

"Meaning to say I do, eh?"

"I was only speaking for Enoch. Hark you, Jacob, you have enough of what you call 'luck,' only you don't appreciate it. What has come to Seth more than you have got? Nothing. What has come to Enoch? The honor of being fed in the commander-in-chief's mess; but when things are straightened out you'll find him drop into place as a private, with never a bit of grumbling because he ain't given a chance to take command of the army. This business of luck isn't much more nor less than the way you look at a thing. Try your best to do whatever comes to hand, and you'll find that the average share of luck will follow."

After the first surprise was over Jacob behaved in a more manly fashion than Greene had anticipated, and nothing occurred to mar the pleasure of one of the most satisfactory days Enoch had ever spent.

He was forced many times to repeat the story of his adventure in the city, after having been recognized by the Quaker, for officers as well as men were eager to learn the details, and even this was not displeasing to Master Ludwick, since it naturally led up to the recounting of the previous events in which all three of the boys, in turn, played a prominent part.

Then came the hour for departure.

Greene, who was closeted for some time with General Dickinson, had received orders for certain work to be done prior to the day set for the evacuation, and this required that Enoch should continue his duties as a spy.

Shortly after nightfall the two set out, accompanied as far as the outposts by Seth and Jacob, and when they were finally free from the camp, riding at a leisurely pace, Enoch asked:

"What am I to do now, Mr. Greene?"

"Hang around the farm, ready to bring any news which I may gather. From now out the command is that I spend a good portion of my time in town, for you see, lad, it isn't certain but that the order you heard read may be changed, and the evacuation will take place earlier or later. But seein's how we've had information ahead of even Clinton's own officers, we're bound to hold the advantage by making certain we keep posted in all that's being done."

"Am I to go to the city?"

"Not before the morning of the seventeenth, if it so be Clinton sticks to the plan according to the programme you heard. Then you shall have a chance to see the Britishers march out, for once they begin to move our work will be done in this section of the country."

When the two arrived at the farmhouse Enoch was given a bed in the attic, with orders to remain closely under cover during the daytime, and to be ready for a trip to Valley Forge at a moment's notice.

Then the spy left him, and although he watched hourly for Greene's return, anticipating with no slight degree of pleasure a visit to Valley Forge, he was disappointed.

The days passed slowly, and as each went by Enoch grew more and more distressed in mind, for it seemed certain Greene must have been captured, otherwise he would have returned even though he he had learned nothing new.

Shortly before midnight of the sixteenth the spy made his appearance once more, and looking none the worse for his long absence.

"No, I wasn't caught, nor in any danger whatever," he said in reply to Enoch's eager questions. "As a matter of fact I have been living in clover since I saw you last, for I took up my quarters in your mother's house, and she feasted me on the fat of the land. Your mother is a great cook, Enoch!"

"But what made you stay away so long? I thought I was to carry to Valley Forge what you learned?"

"And so you would if I had learned anything, lad. But bless you, there's nothing new going on."

"What? Have the Britishers given up the idea of evacuating the city?"

"No, indeed. I meant there was nothing more happening in town than we knew when last at Valley Forge. All I could gather was to the same effect as that which you discovered so oddly, and there surely was no necessity of repeating that to General Washington, therefore I remained quiet, as safe in the city as if I had been a Tory of the rankest kind. The order you heard read was issued this morning, and, as nearly as I could learn, not changed in any respect. It is evident Clinton anticipates some trouble from camp followers, seeing so many of his men have taken wives since they came to Philadelphia, and there's a host of women in that town tonight ready to scratch out the Britisher's eyes, for he has issued orders regarding them which are not at all pleasing. The first appeared this morning, and I reckon wasn't intended for the public; it read something like this: 'If any regiment has more women than is allowed, the commanding officer is desired to send them down to the ships, if he can possibly get an opportunity; if not, they are to march with the army, and, by way of punishment, will be allowed no provisions.' Trust to a woman for finding out what it ain't intended she should know! Some of these Tory girls, thinking they had a rich prize when they married redcoats, heard of it, and in certain quarters of the city there was a deal of harsh language. Then came the second order, which was posted in the barracks where every one could see it: 'All women of each regiment will march at the head of it under an escort of the non-commissioned officers and six men, who will take care they do not go out of the road on any account, and the provost marshal has received positive orders to drum out any woman who shall disobey this order.'"

"Then the city is to be really evacuated?"

"Yes, lad; the word is for the last of the Britishers to cross the river at Gloucester Point at daylight on the morning of the seventeenth. I allow it's time for you to come into town, if you want to see what's going on, for they will pay no attention to you from this out. Your mother is expecting us there 'twixt now and sunrise."

"Did you tell her what General Washington said to me?"

"I did, lad, and if there's a prouder woman in Pennsylvania than she I don't know where to find her. Unless you've got some reason for not going at once we'll leave now, because I'm not counting on missing any part of the show, and allow you're quite as eager to see it as I am."

Enoch would have been pleased to leave the farmhouse even though he had had no anticipation of such a spectacle as must of necessity be presented when the English troops filed out of the city they had so long occupied, and no delay was made by Greene in retracing his steps.

Although it was not expected the enemy would take any very great precautions to prevent undesirable visitors on this the eve of the evacuation, Greene did not think it quite prudent to attempt to ride into town, therefore set out on foot.

"It will be the last time we shall have to sneak into Philadelphia, lad," the spy said exultantly when they were on the road. "I don't allow that from this out the enemy will ever again have possession of the town, for what we've got now we'll hold."

Enoch was too greatly excited to carry on any conversation just at this moment.

It seemed to him as if he had been absent from home an exceedingly long time, and he was not only eager to see his mother, but to tell her of the praise he had won from the "only man in all the country" to him.

Greene, however, was inclined to be garrulous. He told stories of his army life; related incidents regarding this officer or that, and, finding he was not attracting his companion's attention, changed the subject abruptly by saying:

"And now, lad, it can't be many days before we'll have a pitched battle, and I hope to see you in it on General Washington's staff, rather than as a private."

"But that would be ridiculous, Mr. Greene. What could I do in such a position?"

"Very little, lad, I'll admit; but still I'm hoping to see you there for the honor of it, and I shall be claiming my share since you are my subordinate."

Although Enoch did not believe such an event probable, he could not prevent himself from speculating upon the possibility, and very pleasant to him were these speculations.

The journey from the farmhouse to the city was not accomplished in as short a time as usual; perhaps because Greene was weary with much walking, and not until nearly an hour after sunrise did they arrive within sight of Philadelphia.

Then Greene threw his hat high in the air, dancing and capering like a crazy man, for, dotting the surface of the Delaware thickly, could be seen boats carrying the troops named in the first general order, and the evacuation had begun.

"I want to do my crowing now," the spy said in explanation of his conduct, "for we shall be forced to wear long faces when we come into town. There are Britishers enough left behind to put us in the pillory and seam our backs with their whips of wire as a pleasant diversion in case we make ourselves too conspicuous. I don't allow there's any danger of being overhauled by the patrol if we exercise ordinary caution, and I surely shan't take any risks. We'll skirt around to the right, and slip in to Letitia Street as quietly and modestly as the Tories will behave from this time out."

"Wait a few moments. Let us enjoy this sight while we can, Mr. Greene," and Enoch gazed intently at the retreating forces.

"To-morrow there will be a brave spectacle, lad, when the last boatload of redcoats has pushed off, and we can stand on the bank and cheer and hoot to our heart's content without fear of being clapped into a guardhouse. It's when every mother's son of 'em leaves Pennsylvania soil that the city will be a comfortable abiding place."

Enoch was not willing to forego the pleasure of seeing that which was already spread out before him, although there was promise of a much finer spectacle, and he remained silent and motionless ten minutes or more, until his companion said impatiently:

"I am sorry to interrupt you, lad, especially when you are looking on such a scene; but it must be done. We should not lose any more time."

"But surely you don't expect there will be work to do now the Britishers have really begun to go?"

"I don't expect it, lad; but yet at the same time something of importance might happen, and I must be where I can hear all the news."

Enoch could not well linger after this, and turning irresolutely, as if it cost him some effort to shut out such a view, he followed the spy.

By making a wide detour they entered the town from the rear, and walked through the almost deserted streets without molestation.

Every person able to be abroad on that morning, whether patriot or Tory, was assembled on the river bank to witness the departure of the troops, and even General Washington himself might have walked through a goodly portion of the city at that time without attracting attention.

The meeting between Enoch and his mother was, as may be fancied, particularly affectionate, and while each was clasped in the other's embrace Greene left the house.

During an hour or more Enoch told in detail all his adventures, and then, when that subject was exhausted, began to wonder why Greene did not return.

Not until night had come did the spy enter the house, and then it was to greet his young comrade with a hearty hand-clasp, as he said:

"There will be no hitch in the programme, lad. At daybreak to-morrow the last redcoat will go. This evening such of the troops as remain were drawn up into line, and without warning marched down the river a mile or more, where they are bivouacked on the shore."

"Why was that done?" Enoch asked quickly.

"It is what we must thank Clinton for, and I allow it's the only thing we have to be grateful about, so far as he is concerned. The soldiers, knowing they were to leave in the morning, might, as has been done in other cases, run wild over the city and do much damage. Anything of that kind has been prevented. Then again, the British commander isn't so certain he'll be followed by all his men, for it's said that desertions have been great since morning; but taking them unawares as he did, he has been able to partially check the defection."

"You haven't learned anything new?"

"No, lad, nothing of importance. When the last boatload has left the shore I shall make for Valley Forge at full speed, although there's little need of doing so, since General Washington understands that the order you heard read is being carried out, unless one of us should report to the contrary in the meanwhile. What do you say for a walk about town?"

"Is it safe?"

"Safe, lad? Why, there are no soldiers in the city, although a good many of the officers have not left their quarters yet, and I guarantee that the Tories will keep their heads under cover mighty snug from this out."

Enoch would have accepted the invitation but that he saw his mother was disturbed at the idea of his doing what seemed venturesome.

"I will wait until morning, Mr. Greene, and then we'll post ourselves somewhere near the Middle Ferry, where we shall see the ending of it all."

"Very well, lad, as you please. Perhaps it is foolish for you to venture too much, seeing that the Britishers have still got the upper hand of us here, and might pay off an old score or two on your back. If I am not at the house sooner, I'll call before daylight, and then we'll enjoy ourselves as hasn't been possible since General Howe took possession of this town."