What occurred on this particular morning must take its place beside the episode of the Baltic coast; for once more did the singer stop, and break forth into complaining:
“’S’cure to the dry chip is there anywhere. Oh, then must I get my death, entirely, in a strange place and with people all about who think me a thief of the world because I fought on the side of the Sassanach? Bless us and save us! It’s rather fight against them I would, any time, than for them.”
At this point Ben stepped around the barrier of boughs and into the circle of light cast by the fire. The sandy-haired youth leaped up and seized a cudgel which was lying beside him; whirling it about his head, he cried boldly enough:
“Stop where you are, or by this and by that, you’ll have this lump of a stick clattering about the head of you!”
Ben stood smilingly regarding him.
“How did you make your way all the distance without being found out?”
The other, seeing that, at least, no immediate attack was meditated, lowered his bludgeon.
“What’s that you say?” he demanded.
“I ask you, how did you get so far from Trenton without being discovered?”
“From Trenton, is it?” cautiously. “And, sure, who told you I come from Trenton?”