Dennis was lonesome for companionship. He was but a common laborer, with no family or fortune, nothing but his honest soul.
He longed to talk with one like himself. He walked up the hills, and hailed the shepherd-boy, who had become a guard in the new secret service.
“Nimble,” he said, “you believe in the Governor, don’t you? I do, more and more.”
“’Fore the Lord, I do,” said the shepherd in an awesome tone.
“I have just seen the soul of that man. He is more of a god than a man. But, Nimble, Nimble, my heart’s own boy, he is surrounded more and more by spies, and think of it, wagons of powder are coming here and going away. What havoc a spy could make!
“Boy, my heart goes out to that man. I would die for him. So would you. I am going to act as a guard for him, not only openly—I do that now—but secretly. You will act with me.”
“Yes, yes, Dennis. But what more can I do?”
“Keep your eyes open on the hills against surprise, and guard the magazines.”
“That I am doing, but where are the magazines?”