"We picked this fellow out of a ditch back here. We had a little brush with a band of Dickinson's men, but they didn't wait for us. We chased them a mile or two up the road; but the day was so warm, and as the rebels took to the woods, we soon gave it up and came back. We found this fellow on our return. He claims he doesn't belong to the rebels; but as we found that he carried a rifle, we thought best to bring him into camp with us. We didn't know but he might be able to give you some of the information you wanted just now."
"You did right, lieutenant. I'll talk with him later. Now tell me what you learned. Did you hear anything more about Washington? How are the roads and the bridges?"
"The rebels have been tearing up the bridges, and Dickinson has a good many of the militia scattered along in the woods. I rather suspect they are planning to serve us as the countrymen served Lord Percy up at Lexington."
"I fancy we shall be able to put a stop to that, though your report is much like that which I have found out myself. Did you hear anything more of Washington?"
"I couldn't get a word out of anybody. I don't believe he's moved from the position he held yesterday, though."
For several minutes the men conversed, and when at last the younger officer departed, Colonel Simcoe turned to Tom and said, "Now, my lad, I'll listen to your story."
"I haven't any story," replied Tom. "I was coming through the woods back here, and when I stepped out into the road I found myself right between the two bands, and as I was afraid I'd be caught by the fire of both of them, I crawled into the ditch to be out of the way. That's why I'm covered with this dirt," he added apologetically.
"You don't need any one to confirm your words as to that," said the colonel, smiling slightly, as he spoke, at Tom's appearance. "Now what I want to know is who you are and what you were doing with a rifle? Few people here carry rifles, I find."
Tom hesitated a moment, not knowing just what to say in reply to the question. The colonel was watching him intently, and the lad felt that he must say something. "I live back here," he said at last. "I've lived in Old Monmouth all my life. I'd started out from home to go to—to—to some of my friends, and, as I told you, I got caught between the lines."
"How about the rifle?"