It was opened by an old man, whom I believed I had seen more than once since we had come to this village of York in converse with some of the red-coated officers, and even then I strove to pull Pierre back that we might make our escape in the darkness.
With a strength such as I had not believed was his, he held me by his side as he said to this man who might prove to be our bitterest foe:
"We are lads who came down from the Hamilton plantation to look after an old negro who was too feeble to leave his quarters here, and now are we shut in with nothing to eat and no way of getting provisions save by begging. We ate our last morsel of food yesterday, and have come here believing you would give from your store rather than sit down at table knowing there were those near you dying from starvation."
"You don't appear to be very near death just now," the man said gruffly, as he came nearer to peer into our faces. "So you belong on the Hamilton plantation, do you?"
"Yes, sir."
"And when Captain Hamilton went North to join the rebel forces he left an old negro in this village, did he?"
"It is not to my mind certain that Uncle 'Rasmus was here when Captain Hamilton went away; but I know only too well he is now in this village, and in need of food."
"I don't claim to know very much of military movements," the man said grimly, having satisfied his curiosity regarding our personal appearance; "but it seems to me you might have waited a little with the belief that the rebels are bound to make their way inside those lines whatever my Lord Cornwallis may do in opposition."
"It is painful waiting even for a short time, when one's empty stomach reproaches him," little Frenchie said with a shrug of his shoulders, and the man stood irresolute while I might have counted ten, after which he wheeled about suddenly, and entered the house saying as he did so:
"Wait until I come."