“Show him in,” was the reply of that officer, and then, turning to his other visitors, he added, “I shall be busy during the remainder of the day, but an half-hour before you begin your journey I will be glad to see both of you here. The tent at the right, Master Le Geyt, has been prepared for you,” and then he turned to greet his subordinate, who had already entered.
“I shall spend some hours in a much needed rest,” the young scout announced to his companion, when they were outside; “but will join you at sundown, if you so desire.”
“I will call for you when I come to report to the general,” Master Preston replied, and then hastened off to his own quarters.
Ira left his tent but once during the day. That was just after dinner, and for a stroll in the forest. He was absent about two hours, and on his return brought a fine string of trout he had caught.
“A present for the general,” he said to the courier, whom he chanced to meet soon after he entered the lines.
“I wish you had taken me with you,” the latter cried enthusiastically as he inspected the speckled beauties. “If there is anything I enjoy more than running the lines of the enemy, it is angling, and you have the finest catch I have ever seen in this country.”
“Then that shall be a bond between us,” was the hearty response. “I knew of a pool a mile or two from here, and could not resist the temptation to pull out a string. You’ll be here in a few hours?”
“Yes,” said Master Preston, strolling on, apparently unsuspicious that his new acquaintance had been out of the camp for any other purpose than that of fishing.
Their interview with General Burgoyne during evening was brief. He gave a letter he had prepared for General Clinton, to Master Preston, who asked to be excused for a few moments. Somewhere in the outer darkness he concealed it about him, for when he returned he said:
“I’ve put it with the others, sir, and promise you that it shall not fall into any hand than that for which it is intended.”