"You heard that?" almost moaned the listener. "My God! could they plan such a cowardly thing?"
"Aye, sir. I am thinking they can. I would warn the General if I could, but you may be luckier. The men said Lord Howe desired the death of every rebel."
"May heaven forgive him!" The words fell sadly from the strong lips.
"And now," again Andy took the lead, "do not speak as we pass here. It is the spot where they shot our pastor's boy, only two days ago. I fear the place. A few rods beyond, we will again strike the thicket, and be under cover until we reach the river."
The solemn quiet that precedes a hot summer dawn surrounded the man and boy. The red band broadened in the east. The birds, fearing neither friend nor foe, began to challenge the stillness with their glad notes, and so guide and follower passed the gruesome place where young Sam White gave up his untried life a few short days ago. The thicket gained, the two paused for breath.
"We must not talk in the boat, sir." They had reached the moored boat now. "Pray tell me how I am to know our General's messenger."
"By this." The stranger detached a charm from a hidden chain and held it in his palm so that the clearer light fell upon it. "I command you to learn its peculiarities well. There must be no blunder."
It was very quaint. Andy's keen eye took in every detail.
"I shall know it," he sighed. And the stranger smiled and replaced it. "And you, sir?" he faltered, for the hour of parting came with a strange sadness; "may I not know your name? You have made me so proud and happy because you accepted my poor service."
"George Washington, and your true friend, Andy McNeal! We are both serving the same great cause. God keep us both!"