Almost at once came the reply:

“Tom! Oh, Tom, is that you?”

“Yes, Dick. I'll be right with you.”

He hastened in the direction from which Dick's voice sounded, and a few minutes later was at his side.

“What in the world brought you here, Tom?” queried Dick. “I was never so surprised in my life as when I heard your voice.”

“I'll tell you why I come, Dick. After you left your quarters in New York, I got to thinking, and I remembered what I had told mother–that I would go to war with you and fight side by side with you, you know, and I thought of how I had let you go away on a dangerous spying expedition alone, and I decided to follow you. I went and asked permission of General Washington to come over here, and he gave it.”

“He was willing for you to come, then, was he?”

“Yes. He held back a little at first, but when I told him about having promised mother I would stick by you, he then said I might come.”

“Well, it has been all right, so far. You got here just in time to frighten those redcoats away, but I don't believe that two can do spy-work successfully.”

“We don't need to both actually do the spy-work, Dick. You can do that, and I'll stay back and wait and watch, and then if anything should happen to you, I would perhaps be able to render you some assistance.”

“True. Well, now that you are here, you may as well stay with me. We'll go on down in the neighborhood of the British encampment together, and then you can hunt at hiding-place and I will go ahead and see what I can do in the way of spying.”

“Very well, Dick. That will suit me.”

“Come, then.”

“You were not hit by the bullet from the redcoat's musket, Dick?” somewhat anxiously.

“No, Tom. At the very moment he fired I tripped over a vine and fell headlong to the ground. I was still lying there when I heard you fire your pistol, and then I heard you yell, ‘Come on, boys’, and recognized your voice; but I was sorely puzzled. I didn't know what to think. I almost thought I must have dreamed it.”

Tom laughed.

“I hit one of the rascals, Dick,” he chuckled. “I'll warrant you he did not think it was a dream.”

“Likely no,” with an answering chuckle. “Well, let's move.”

They set out down the slope, moving at a fair pace, pausing occasionally to listen. All was quiet, however. The redcoat pickets had evidently retreated to the British encampment.

When Dick and Tom emerged from the timber, at the foot of the slope, they were able to go at a faster pace, and they set out in the direction in which they believed the enemy's camp to be. They walked onward about half an hour, and then came upon a little clump of trees. Feeling certain that they must be in the vicinity of the British encampment, they went in among the trees and stopped.

“Wait here a few minutes, Tom” said Dick. “I'm going to climb a tree and see if I can see the campfires of the enemy.”

“All right.”

Dick climbed a tree on the south side of the clump, and looked toward the south. He was rewarded by seeing the twinkling lights of the campfires, seemingly at no very great distance.

“There is the encampment, sure enough,” he murmured. “Well, now, the question is, How am I to get into the camp and secure information regarding the plans of the British?”

This was a poser. It certainly seemed like a hopeless task, but Dick Dare was not a youth to be easily discouraged. He had come here to spy on the British and learn their plans, and he would do so, if such a thing were possible.

He climbed down and told his brother that he had seen the campfires of the British.

“Good,” said Tom. “But, what are you going to do next, Dick? How are you going to get into their encampment?”

“I decided on my course, Tom,” he said, “before I started out.”

“What are you going to do?” eagerly.

“I'm going to enter the British encampment boldly and tell them that I want to join the army.”

“Goodness! That will be dangerous, brother!”

“Yes, but one can't do spy-work without encountering danger.”

“I know that. Do you think that you can succeed, Dick?”

“I'm going to try.”

“Will they take you into the army–a boy like you?”

“General Washington did.”

“But the British army may be different. They may think that they don't need help badly enough for them to accept boys as recruits.”

“Well, even if that is the case, I will succeed in entering the British encampment, Tom.”

“That's so. That part will be all right.”

“Yes.”

“When are you going to approach the encampment? Now?”

“Yes, I don't see any use of waiting.”

“What shall I do?”

“You had better stay right here or in this vicinity.”

“All right. When do you think you will be back?”

“I don't know. Possibly to-morrow night.”

“I'm to wait till you come?”

“Yes.”

“But, I'll get hungry before to-morrow night.”

“Go to a farmhouse in the morning and get some food. There must be farmhouses near.”

“That's so. I can do that.”

“Well, I may as well be going. Good-bye, Tom.”

“Good-bye, Dick; and–be careful, brother! If anything should happen to you, it would break mother's heart.”

“I'll be careful, Tom. You had better keep your eyes open, too, for the redcoats may come prowling around here to-morrow, and you must not let them capture you.”

“I'll not let them get me, brother.”

Then Dick took his departure. He had some time since decided upon his course, and as soon as he was a short distance away from the clump of trees, he set out at a brisk walk, and made no effort at concealment. He did not care, now, if he were halted by a British picket or sentinel.

He walked swiftly onward, and about twenty minutes later was hailed:

“Halt! Who comes there?”

Dick's heart leaped, and he felt that he was soon to be submitted to an ordeal, but he did not hesitate, and answered firmly and promptly:

“A friend.”

“Advance, friend, and give the countersign,” was the command.

Dick advanced till within a few yards of the sentinel, whose form he could make out, it being outlined against the light background made by the campfires.

“Halt!” ordered the sentinel. “Give the countersign before you come any further.”

“I don't know the countersign,” replied Dick, quietly. “But I am a friend, and I wish to see the commander in charge of this army.”

“Humph. What do you want to see him for?”

“I want to offer my services to fight for the king.”

“Oh, you do, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are a loyal king's man, then, are you?”

“Would I be anxious to join the king's army if I were not?” questioned Dick. He had decided that there could be no harm in deceiving the enemy. In spy-work it would be absolutely necessary to use this means. His conscience did not reproach him in the least, for he felt that he was making the pretense of being a king's adherent in a good cause–that of Liberty.

“What is your name?” the soldier asked.

Dick had decided that it would be best to give a fictitious name, so he gave the first one that came into his mind:

“Harry Fuller,” he said.

“Harry Fuller, eh? Well, Harry Fuller, since you are a loyal king's man and wish to join his army, I will see that you have the opportunity. I'll summon the officer of the guard and he will conduct you to the commander of the force.”

“This isn't the full army, then?” queried Dick.

“One division of it,” was the curt reply. “There's enough of it here for you to join, I guess, if you really mean business.”

The sentinel summoned the officer of the guard, explained matters to him, and then the officer conducted Dick into the encampment, and to a tent near its center. This was occupied by General Percy, and the officer of the guard entered and exchanged a few words with the general, who was writing at a little, portable desk, by the light of a candle, and then he emerged and said to Dick:

“The general will see you.”

Then he ushered the youth into the tent, at the same time announcing:

“Harry Fuller, General Percy.”

The British general looked up, eyed Dick sharply for a few moments, and then said:

“Well, Harry Fuller, so you wish to join the British army and fight for the king, eh?”

Dick had met the searching gaze of the officer unflinchingly, and now he answered promptly and firmly:

“Yes, sir; such is my wish.”

“Humph. How old are you?”

“Eighteen, sir.”

“Rather young, but no matter. You can hold a musket and shoot as good as a man, without doubt, so should make a good soldier. I accept your offer, and will assign you to Colonel Harker's regiment.”

Then he scribbled a brief note, handed it to Dick and said: “Give that to the colonel. He will take care of you.” Lifting his voice, he called out: “Orderly!”

An orderly entered at once, and saluted.

“Conduct this young man to Colonel Harker. That is all. Good-night, young man.”

“Good-night, sir,” replied Dick, and followed the orderly from the tent and to the point where Harker's regiment was stationed, and to that officer he handed the note from the general.

“Ah, a new recruit,” said the colonel, when he had read the note. “Very well, Harry Fuller, you are a member of Company H. That is it, yonder. Take your place there.” He pointed to the company in question, and Dick saluted and joined the company, taking a seat with the soldiers of Company H, some of whom greeted him with nods, and many looking at him with a slight show of curiosity, but saying nothing. One or two said: “How are you, comrade?”

“I'm all right, I guess,” Dick replied to these, smiling.

The soldiers smoked and talked, and Dick sat quietly there and listened. He had an eager interest in all that was said, for he wished to learn all he possibly could. That indeed was what he had come there for.

Dick felt that he had been fortunate in getting within the British lines so easily. And, too, he was lucky to have been accepted as a soldier. He naturally had feared that his youth would be against him, and that he would be refused on that account. But such had not been the case, his youth had not counted against him, and he was now in the British camp, playing the part of a British soldier.