Ben touched his horse with the spur, and it responded instantly. It was a clean built animal whose small head and slim, powerful legs indicated Arab blood. The Porcupine’s mount was a tall, raw-boned beast, sway-backed and with a wicked eye; but it evidently had bottom, for with a long, awkward stride it easily kept him at the side of his friend.
As they entered the suburbs, the drifted road gave way to the clearer streets; and when they entered the city proper, they found Second Street bare of snow, but with stones ice-coated and glistening.
“Front Street will not be so bad,” spoke Ben; “there is never so much traffic there, and the snow will still be untrodden.”
They turned Sassafras Street and into Front; and when nearing Arch they caught the gleam of arms and uniforms, and saw the townspeople scurrying along as though attracted by something unusual. When they reached the market-place at the foot of High Street, the two boys saw the reason for this. Along Front Street was drawn a force of Continental troops, and under their watchful eyes was a rabble of unshaven, tattered, dispirited looking men to the number of several thousands.
“Hello,” spoke the Porcupine, surprisedly, as he looked over the heads of the crowd from the back of his tall steed; “and who are these?”
“Our friends, the Hessians, captured at Trenton,” replied Ben Cooper. “I heard that the greater part of them were being sent westward to Lancaster or York for safe keeping. And they seem to have just reached Philadelphia.”
The ragged wretches stood in long lines, gazing stupidly at their captors and at the curious throngs. And that these could be the mercenaries who had spread terror through the Jerseys seemed impossible.
A perky looking little man, standing upon tiptoe to get a glimpse of the captives, exclaimed in a high-pitched, astonished voice:
“And are these really the hirelings of whom we have heard so much! Why, they look like common vagabonds.”
A plethoric gentleman in a huge waistcoat and steel buckles seemed to grow even more expansive with indignation.