“Quite a place,” Late exclaimed as he and his comrade halted.
“Yes, an’ whoever lives there ought’er be able to furnish us with everything we need. But how are we goin’ to find out whether the people are for the colonies or the king?”
“By those chaps there,” was the reply, and the speaker pointed to two small boys, who, with baskets on their arms, had just clambered over a wall farther down the hillside. “They are goin’ berryin’. Draw back so they can’t see you till they get here. We don’t want to scare them to death.”
The young scouts drew back from the brink of the slope until hidden from view of the approaching lads, and waited. Five minutes later the youngsters came in sight, but were so busy wrangling over some matter as not to take heed of the half-clad strangers until almost upon them. Then their first inclination was to run away; but under the assurance of Late that they would in no way be harmed, the children drew nearer, staring with wondering eyes at the sorry objects they beheld.
“Who lives down there?” Joe asked.
“Father,” the elder of the boys replied.
“Yes, but what is his name?”
“Hiram Le Geyt.”
The scouts looked at each other in dismay an instant; then Late asked: “Have you a brother Ira?”
“Yes, but he’s serving the king,” the younger lad said proudly.