"Will General Washington come to-day?" Enoch asked of his companion.
"No; General Arnold will take possession of the city with a small force. We shan't see the commander-in-chief in town until something decisive has been done, according to my way of thinking," answered Greene.
"How long are we to stay here?"
"I shall start for Valley Forge when the last boatload of soldiers puts out from the shore. You will stay until word comes from General Dickinson."
"Do you intend to walk to the farm?"
"No; I shall have no trouble in borrowing a horse now that our friends are not afraid of getting into trouble by doing such a service. Here is a good place for us to witness the scene, and on this rising ground the view cannot be shut off from us, however many may be around."
Greene had halted on the slight elevation of ground a short distance from the Middle Ferry, and already could be seen in the stream boatloads of soldiers putting out from the Philadelphia side of the river, while from each of the landing-places the refugees—men, women and children—were embarking such portable effects as they would be permitted to carry on board the vessels lying at anchor.
The sun had not yet risen; but the adherents of King George were hastening to depart from the soil of Pennsylvania, greatly to the delight of those who had been so long oppressed.
Enoch had no desire to talk, and hardly heard what Greene said as he made several attempts to enter into conversation. The boy's eyes were fixed upon the panorama before him, and he thought of nothing save the fact that the city was being freed from the enemy.
Until half-past nine he remained thus absorbed in the view, and then a mighty shout went up from the assembled throng—a shout which was echoed and re-echoed from one end of the city to the other.