“And I,” said Ben Cooper, “never knew of his existence until after I left Boston last fall.”
They were all three looking attentively at the brothers when the latter turned. Nat Brewster never saw a more delighted look upon the face of any one than was upon that of Ezra Prentiss at that moment.
“He looks,” whispered the young mountaineer to Ben, “as though the most pleasant thing in the world had happened to him.”
“You have no trouble telling one from the other, then,” smiled Ben.
“Not now. Together I can see a difference. But,” hesitatingly, “if they were separated I might be puzzled once more.”
“That’s usually the case in the matter of twins,” said Ben.
“Ben,” said Ezra, as they came up, “this is my brother George—George, this is Ben Cooper, and Mr. Revere.”
The three named shook hands; then Ezra continued, addressing Nat and Revere:
“There is a great deal to explain to you and to others of my friends, who have seen and heard things that—that they have not understood. Ben has known something of it, but as you two have not, I’ll begin at the beginning; and if there are any places where the light does not strike, don’t hesitate to speak of it.”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Paul Revere. “But there is a chest of important papers in the bushes some little distance up the road, that needs careful carrying to Concord. And as the British may happen along at any time now we’d better be off with it.”