The speaker was a dwarfish looking lad whose big head and upstanding crest of hair gave him a most curious appearance.
“To-morrow,” replied the second boy, promptly, “will be New Year’s day.”
The dwarf shifted his leather belt so that his huge service pistol might hang more comfortably; and his voice, when he spoke again, contained a note of complaint.
“It will be that, to be sure; but it will also be just one week since Washington crossed the Delaware and beat the Hessians.”
The eyes of the other boy sparkled.
“Ah, that was the night,” he cried. “There, indeed, was sport, excitement and glory.”
The dwarf shook his large head.
“For you and for Nat and the others,” protested he. “But not for me. While you were all having your fill of fighting, I was away in Philadelphia, riding here and there, at the beck and call of a parcel of excited committeemen.”
Ben Cooper’s good-natured face was all a-wrinkle with smiles.
“Don’t worry, Porcupine,” he said. “The war is not over as yet, by a good deal. They say Cornwallis is on his way across the Jerseys, and as he’s the best fighter the British have, we may expect plenty of warm work still.”