CHAPTER XIII.
BENEDICT ARNOLD.
"At last I see my way to a position. They said I was a ne'er-do-well. We shall see!"
The speaker, a fine, handsome-looking man, paced the floor of a small room in Cambridge.
It was one week after the battle of Lexington.
He was restless; every muscle in his body seemed to quiver with excitement.
Anyone looking at him would prefer him as a friend rather than an enemy, for there was that in his face which betokened strong passion.
He was ambitious. For the gratification of that ambition he would sacrifice anything, even honor.
He had been brought up as a merchant, and had splendid opportunities in his native Colony of Connecticut for success, but he was restless, and wanted a fame greater than he could obtain as a merchant.
He had suggested the formation of a company of militia, to be called the "Governor's Guards," and had also hinted that they should rival the royal guards of England in appearance and attire.