“Perhaps so,” said he. “Is this your father’s place?”
The boy swept a small hand to all four points of the compass.
“All of it,” answered he. Then confidentially, “And he’s going to get more.”
“Good for him,” laughed Nat, “and so now run off and ask him if he can see two riders who are on their way to Philadelphia.”
The child pursed up his mouth.
“He is engaged,” spoke he, wisely. “Some gentlemen stopped a while ago. They are having dinner, and one of them is a general.”
The young continentals looked at one another.
“What’s his name?” inquired Ezra.
“General Wash’ton,” answered the child promptly.
Again the lads’ eyes sought each other in mute question; and a thrill ran through them both. They recalled the tall, athletic Virginian who had sat his horse so well in Philadelphia’s streets; they remembered the calm, handsome face, so highly bred and yet so powerful; they recalled the outspoken admiration of the citizens, the great esteem of his fellow members of the First Congress.