The horses’ hoofs beat steadily upon the frost-bound road; mile after mile they put behind them; the few houses to be met by the way were dark; their inhabitants seemed deep in sleep.
“Faith,” said Paddy, after a long silence, “it’s a queer thing entirely to have a couple of gossoons ride all the way from Whitemarsh to York to, maybe, carry a parcel of letters somewhere else. Could they get no ready lads at their hands, sure?”
“Special service of some sort,” said Ben. “It can be nothing of any great haste, however, for it will take some little time for us to get there.”
They clung to the Lancaster road, and as raiding bodies of British were frequently seen upon this highway, the boys kept a watchful eye, and saw to it that their pistols were ready to hand. As the night wore on, it grew, if anything, colder; the road seemed deserted save for themselves.
Ben had made up his mind to this, when suddenly he chanced to notice, some little distance to one side, a flicker of light. He was about to remark on its queerness when Paddy spoke:
“Hello! Is it a light I see there?”
“It is,” said Ben.
“Why, then,” spoke Paddy, “it’s queer conduct it do be having, so it is. Do you mind the little jumps it gives, as though it were trying to call out to us?”
Ben’s eyes were upon the light as his companion spoke, and he felt that Paddy had described the idea conveyed by the light exactly. It moved in short, rapid circles for a moment; then it would wave to and fro, and up and down.
“If it had a voice it would call to us,” said Ben with a laugh. “I never saw anything so mutely eloquent. It must be a signal of some sort.”