“I suppose not,” Bob said aloud. Adding to himself, “For a girl as young as she is, she’s remarkably sensible.”
They walked on in silence, taking long swinging strides.
The thump, thump of their footsteps echoed and reëchoed in the silent woods. They reached the top of Fort Hill and stopped for a minute to get their breath. The wind blew the girls’ hair about their flushed faces and sent eddies of last fall’s brown leaves swirling along the path before them.
Across the Hudson the sun was already half hidden by the hills. Below them the old stone fort sprawled half way down the steep slope that led to the river.
Bob’s eyes rested on it inquiringly—“Hello, what have we here?” he asked.
“That’s the old fort, built in the Revolution by the Americans to defend themselves against the attacking British,” Lois recited, in a sing song voice. “It is said that at the brook we just crossed General George Washington once watered his horse while the founder of Seddon Hall held the bridle,” she continued, smiling mischievously at her brother.
It was the tale that was told to all the new girls
at school and there were always a few who believed it.
Bob laughed heartily.
“Come, Sis, that’s too much, but you told it well. Why don’t you add that Washington and his staff made the reception-room their headquarters?”