"Bend low," whispered Andy, "the way leads through small spaces."
On they went, sometimes creeping under the hanging rocks, always clinging to the shelter of trees and bushes. They both knew the danger that might lie near in the form of a British sentinel.
"The path seems untrodden by foot of man," murmured the stranger, pausing to draw in a long breath. "You are a wonderful guide."
"I think no one else knows the way," Andy whispered, proudly; "an Indian showed it to me when I was a child. He was my good friend, he taught me also to row, and shoot with both arrow and gun. He said I should know Indian tricks because of my lameness. They might help where strength failed. He showed me how to creep noiselessly and find paths. I have trails all over the woods. There is one that leads right among the Britishers; and they never know. I do this for sport."
The stranger looked sharply at the gliding form ahead.
"Paths such as this all over the woods?" he repeated. "And have you kept this—this sport secret?"
"That I have!" laughed Andy. "I tell you now because you are upon your country's service. I trust you, and I thought perhaps it might help sometime." The two moved forward for a moment in silence, then Andy laughed in a half-confused way.
"A boy gets lonely at times," he said; "he must do something to while away the—the years. I have practiced and made believe until I am a pretty good Indian. I make believe that I am guiding the great Washington. They do say he ever remembers a favor. I should love to serve him. Had I been like other boys—" the voice broke—"I would have been as near him as possible by this time!"
The hand of the stranger was upon the youth's shoulder. Andy turned in alarm.
"You have a secret which may save your country much!" breathed the deep voice; "guard it with your life. But if one comes from Washington seeking your aid, do whatever he asks, fearlessly."