"There is something moving in the river, general," suddenly said Seymour, pointing, his practised eye detecting a dark object among the cakes of ice. "It is a boat, sir!"
"Ah," replied the general, "you have sharp eyes. Where is it?"
"There, sir, coming nearer every minute; there is a man in it."
"I see now. So there is. Who can it be?"
"Probably it is Lieutenant Martin," remarked General Greene, quietly.
"You know you sent him back."
"Oh, so I did," replied the general, nodding sternly at the recollection. Meanwhile the man in the boat was skilfully making his way between the great cakes of ice, which threatened every moment to crush his frail skiff. He rapidly drew near until he finally jumped ashore, and, having tied his boat, hastened up to where the general sat on his horse. He stopped.
"I have been across, general," he said, saluting.
"So I perceive, sir. How did you get across?"
"When I left you, sir, this afternoon," went on the young man, gravely, "I was in such a hurry that I did not wait for anything. I swam it, sir, with my horse."
"Swam it!"