“We have but five thousand in camp,” the calm voice went on, “we must leave to-night, make a circuit to the east, pass the enemy’s flank, and make an attack upon the detachment in Princeton before Cornwallis can return to help them.”
A mighty cheer went up. Robert from his place wedged in among the excited patriots, glowed and thrilled as he heard the daring plan. This was a general worth following.
A man to be loved!
“But”—he was still speaking, though the shouts had drowned, for the moment, his voice, “there is one thing more to do, and for that I want volunteers.”
Robert’s heart almost choked him. Could there be any deed too great for him to undertake?
“While we steal away under cover of the darkness, others—perhaps fifty—must remain here to keep the fires burning and by beating the drum at intervals, deceive the enemy. At sun rise you may try to escape and join us. If you are taken it will probably mean death! Now who volunteers?”
The rich voice fell with a sad cadence, and for an instant no one spoke. Then, “I! I! I!” forty or fifty men disentangled themselves from the mass and pressed nearer. And from these a slim boyish form stepped close to Washington.
“Sir!” he said simply. “I have been a drummer since the war began, may I remain?”
For a moment Washington eyed the boy.
“I remember you,” he said, “you have served me before. You are young to attempt this service. There are enough without you.”