"You're within three miles of where they allowed to halt to-night. General Dickinson is making for Mount Holly, so I'm told, reckoning the Britishers will strike that place in their march across the State. Keep straight on the road ahead, and you'll hit them before dark, or I'm a Dutchman."
The young courier gave rein to his horse now that the journey appeared so nearly at an end, for he was not only eager to deliver the message, but to be with friends.
The idea of riding around the country at night, knowing that he might at any moment come across detachments of the enemy, was anything rather than pleasing, and he had not been in the service sufficiently long to look upon such matters as ordinary incidents in a soldier's life.
At the end of ten minutes he saw ample signs betokening the passage of a large body of men, and at the end of half an hour drew rein in the midst of the New Jersey forces, who had bivouacked in a pine grove near the main road.
It was not as simple a matter as he had supposed to gain an audience with General Dickinson.
When he was halted by the pickets he fancied that immediately he announced himself as a messenger from General Arnold he would be allowed to proceed at will, instead of which he was detained by the vigilant outpost until the officer of the day could be communicated with, and during fully an hour Enoch sat on his horse, fretting because of the delay, and believing he would have received different treatment if he had been in the garb of a soldier.
The night had come before he was conducted to where General Dickinson was partaking of a supper consisting of cold corn-bread and smoked fish, in company with several of his staff.
Enoch saluted awkwardly, and as he held the bridle of his horse with one hand, extended General Arnold's letter in the other, without speaking.
"Where are you from, my lad?" the general asked as he took the missive, but without looking at it.
"Philadelphia, sir."