Ezra saluted the New Hampshire warrior, who then rode on. The boy returned to his comrades.
“We are again fortunate,” said he. “Colonel Stark has just left General Ward and tells me that Colonel Prescott and General Putnam were then with him. If we make haste we might find them there still.”
The hasty clatter of hoofs awoke no surprise in the town. Cambridge had grown accustomed to such long since. As they approached the house which the commander had made his headquarters, they saw a few sentries leaning upon their rifles, conversing carelessly.
A broad window, which faced an open sweep of green, stood open; and within, three men in blue uniforms faced with white were gathered about a table in earnest discussion.
The boys halted and dismounted; after a moment’s discussion it was decided that Ezra should seek admittance to the officers’ presence alone, as he could best tell of what had happened. So the others seated themselves upon the grass in full view of the window, while the young New Englander approached the sentries and announced himself. After some hesitation one of them went into the house as though to seek the commands of a superior.
Scarlett’s searching eyes watched the three about the table; every movement, every lineament, so it seemed, came under his observation.
“And so these are more of your leaders,” said he to Nat. “Tell me now, which of them is General Ward?”
“The one directly facing us,” replied Nat, pointing to the general in command. “He is a safe leader, and that’s saying the least of him. The only fault that could be charged against him is that his health is bad, which might affect his enterprise. He was once a justice of the peace; also he served with the British commander, Abercrombie, against the French and Indians. He was a lieutenant.”
Scarlett plainly had no exalted opinion of General Ward as an officer; but he made no comment.
“This other, now,” he said, “this thick-set man with the full red face and the whitening hair. Which is he?”