“You don’t like the British service, then?”
“Like it!” The sandy-haired lad gripped his cudgel in both hands. “Sure, and how could any one with Irish blood in his veins like it?”
“Perhaps,” said Ben, “you’d prefer that of America.”
The cudgel was lowered and an interested look appeared upon the face of the boy.
“Now that,” said he, “is a different thing. I would have tried to find General Washington’s army, but I was afeered to go back across the river.” He stared at Ben, anxiously. “Maybe now it’s yourself that could tell me how to find it.”
“Well,” said Ben, “one of the first things that should be done in your case is to get you warm and provide you with some food. Then we can think of the rest.”
The face of the Irish boy brightened up wonderfully.
“Arrah, then it’s the great lad ye are!” he cried, with admiration. “Sure, a bite to eat and a fire with a trifle of heat in it would be as welcome as the sun in the morning.”
“But,” proceeded Ben, “before I can do anything else, I must first see to a matter of great importance. As for you,” and he pointed in the direction of the road, “take that way until you come to an inn, less than a mile away. Say to the landlady that——”
Here the other interrupted him.