Once at the foot of the hill he ran quickly through the woods, to the place where he had left his horse. The farmer answered his summons quickly, and the lad was astonished when once within the house, to learn that it was only a few minutes past midnight.
“I will sleep until three o’clock, Master Lewis, if you don’t mind calling me at that time.”
“I can do that much for one who has been through what you have,” the farmer replied with a significant glance at his guest’s clothing.
Ira smiled. “My garments are a bit soiled and torn,” he admitted, “but I hope they will look a little better before I go back to camp.”
Then a woman’s voice could be heard from the next room. “Let him go into the front chamber, pa, and send his clothes here by you. I will clean and mend them while he sleeps.”
“Thank you, good mistress,” the lad cried. “It is a case where a woman’s hands can help me out of an awkward fix. Under your skilful fingers I shall be able to return to the British encampment without a trace of the work I have done this night for the Cause.”
Nor was he disappointed. It would have required sharp eyes, indeed, to have discovered any evidences of mountain climbing upon his clothing when he dressed himself a little before dawn.
A sharp ride down the road brought him to the place where he had left the Hessian. He found the fellow fast asleep in a thicket, his horse hitched to a near-by tree. Waking him, he asked in well-feigned anger:
“Hey, there, Hans, how long has this been going on?”
The trooper arose, rubbed his eyes sleepily, and stammered: