"They don't think so. You should hear the talk about what Clinton is going to do in the South, and he will find Cornwallis too much for him."
"How is that? Cornwallis?"
"Cornwallis hates Clinton passionately; he will sacrifice everything rather than coöperate with him. Clinton successful would be worse than his own disgrace. Yet Clinton is sure he will succeed in subduing the whole South."
"And Knyphausen?"
"Is sure he will capture General Washington, though Clinton failed in his alert for that purpose. The four hundred light horsemen he despatched came back as they went twenty-four hours after they started full of confidence."
"What frightened them?" asked Madame with a scornful laugh.
"The guides. They lost the road,—rebels at heart, doubtless,—the cold was intense, the snow deep, and the four hundred came home all. The wretched rebel army must have had a hearty laugh at Clinton's 'alert'—the alert which was to end the war by the capture of Washington."
"How could they expect such a thing?"
"Well, Washington was living in a house at Morristown, some distance from the huts occupied by the army. The army were in the greatest distress, nearly naked, hungry and cold, and the snow was deep around them. There was every reason to hope four hundred men on swift horses might be alert enough to surprise and capture the man they wanted."
"Nae! nae!" cried Madame. "The tree God plants no wind hurts; and George Washington is set for the defense and freedom o' these colonies. Cold and hungry men, snow-strangled roads, and four hundred alerts! What are they against the tree God plants? Only a bit wind that shook the branches and made the roots strike deeper and wider. And sae Clinton's alert having failed, Knyphausen is trying for another; is that it, Neil?"