"The city will be evacuated," was Preston's answer.
"Could I send a message to Gin'ral Hare's house?"
"The General and his brigade and family sailed for another port at eight. If you wish, I'll take your message."
Solomon delivered to Preston a letter written by Jack to Margaret. It told of his capture and imprisonment.
"Better than I, you will know if there is good ground for these dark suspicions which have come to us," he wrote. "As well as I, you will know what a trial I underwent last evening. That I had the strength to hold my peace, I am glad, knowing that you are the happier to-day because of it."
The third of March had come. The sun was shining. The wind was in the south. They were not strong enough to walk, so Preston had brought horses for them to ride. There were long patches of snow on the Dorchester Heights. A little beyond they met the brigade of Putnam. It was moving toward the city and had stopped for its noon mess. The odor of fresh beef and onions was in the air.
"Cat's blood an' gunpowder!" said Solomon. "Tie me to a tree."
"What for?" Preston asked.
"I'll kill myself eatin'," the scout declared. "I'm so got durn hungry I kin't be trusted."
"I guess we'll have to put the brakes on each other," Jack remarked.