SCENE. A little glen in the woods near Fort Edward. A young British Officer appears, attended by a soldier in the American uniform; the latter with a small sealed pacquet in his hand.
Off. Hist!
Sol. Well, so I did; but—
Off. Hist, I say!
Sol. A squirrel it is, Sir; there he sits.
Off. By keeping this path you avoid the picket on the hill. It will bring you out where these woods skirt the vale, and scarcely a hundred rods from the house itself.
[Calling without.]
Sol. Captain Andre—Sir.
Off. It were well that the pacquet should fall into no other hands. With a little caution there is no danger. It will be twilight ere you get out of these woods—
Sol. I beg your pardon, Sir; but here is that young Indian guide of mine, after all, above there, beckoning me.