The evening was a brisk one; the moon was coming up clearly, the air was tingling with cold, and the lad’s spurs jangled upon the flags as he stepped buoyantly along.
“This is the sort of weather that makes one feel like undertaking some enterprise,” he told himself, his spirits rising with every step he took. “If it is the same in the neighborhood of Trenton, I should not be surprised to shortly hear that the general has set out again upon another venture against the British.”
He stepped jauntily into the coffee room of the tavern; the candles were lighted, the curtains were drawn at the small paned windows and a heap of logs crackled in a huge fireplace. Before this sat the Porcupine upon a stool, his short legs crossed one upon another and deeply engaged in a conversation with—of all persons in the world—Mr. Tobias Hawkins.
Mr. Hawkins stood with one foot upon the fender, and one elbow upon the mantel; he looked very stalwart and very handsome as he gazed laughingly down at the dwarf, and seemed very much amused at something which the latter had said.
“And so,” remarked he, to the high admiration of some serving maids, and other attachés of the inn, “you are a patriot, are you?”
“I am,” replied the Porcupine, as cool as you please, “and I try to act up to the way I think.”
“Excellent!” cried Mr. Hawkins. “Excellent, indeed! A patriot who tries to put his opinions into acts! Why, this is a prodigy! If all patriots were of your kidney, my fine fellow, belike we’d have more deeds than words.” He ran his fingers through his coarse, luxuriant hair, and his eye challenged the mirth of a few guests supping at the round tables. “But come,” he added, “let us hear what form your actions took.”
“What other form could they take but good blows?” quoth the Porcupine, sagely. “What other form would be understood in these times but hard knocks?”
The mirth of Hawkins filled the room; the titters of the servant maids and the grins of the waiters showed their entertainment; broad smiles were on the faces of the guests who had heard the dwarf’s words.
“And do you mean to tell me that you delivered the good blows you speak of?” demanded Hawkins. “And the hard knocks? Surely, the foe must have trembled when he saw you preparing for the fight.”