“I’ll go,” he said, “but I’ll not tell.”
“Very well, come on!”
The sergeant spoke gruffly, and laid a rough hand on the lad’s shoulder.
“Let me go first and tell my mother.”
“No. It’s your choice to go—go now. March!”
Then a better thought came into the sergeant’s mind. Down on the Delaware a good and anxious mother was fearing and praying for him. The thought of her softened his anger.
“Well,” he said, “go and tell her. Tell her anything you like. But sooner or later you will tell us what we want to know.”
Bob hurried upstairs to his mother’s room.
“Mother,” he said, “[I’ve discovered a way to get rid of these men.] I’ve offered to go up to Mount Hermon with them. When we are gone you can let father know.”
