“That you go with me into the fort as Fred Lyman, and stay there while I go back to Bennington with the British forces. Somehow I can’t get over the idea that we shall need a friend to the Cause there while I’m gone. Something might happen, you know, that should be reported to General Schuyler immediately.”
“If you say that’s the thing to do, I’m ready. You’ll find I’ll make a good cousin,” and he laughed to himself as though the idea was a pleasing one.
They fell to discussing the details of this new plan while riding slowly along, for now they did not care to reach the vicinity of the fort until after nightfall. A mile or two further on Ira rode into the woods, where he waited until Dan had made a long detour and crossed the river to General Schuyler’s headquarters to acquaint him with what was transpiring in Bennington, as well as to tell him of the arrangements made for the former, under the name of Fred Lyman, to enter the British lines.
He was so long delayed that Ira had grown impatient, and on his appearing cried:
“I thought you would never come!”
“Lay it all to the general,” the lad replied. “He hated to let me go into the fort wuss than pizen.”
“What did he say?” Ira asked, as he remounted his horse.
“That ’twas bad ’nough to have you thar without riskin’ another life.”
“What did you say?”
“That I entered the service to risk my life, an’ I might as well do it thar, as anywhere.”