“We had rough quarters enough before Boston. Sod huts and ramshackle affairs built of planks were considered luxurious; and many a winter night some of us slept on the ground beside a camp-fire.”
“At Boston, Mr. Prentiss, you were employed in a variety of ways, were you not?”
“Like many others,” replied the young New Englander, “I was willing to give what service I could.”
“Ah, yes, to be sure. But I have heard it hinted that your service took many uncommon forms. Your specialty was, in the main, the flanking of the enemy, not the facing of him.”
“I have done my share of the secret work that our necessities required,” said George, “though I never had any partiality or even liking for that form of the service. But some one had to do it, and why not I as well as another?”
“True enough.” Major Hyde settled himself farther back in the corner of the sofa; his hands were clasped about one knee; his eyes were peering and slit-like. “Of course,” he resumed, easily, “when a person acquires a reputation for a certain thing—especially when he has proven very satisfactory in it, indeed—he naturally is given the preference when work of that sort is needed.”
George nodded.
“Yes,” said he, quietly, “I suppose that is so.”
“General Putnam,” and Major Hyde laughed, “is a direct and rather simple-minded man. He was aware of the quality of your service, I know; and I suppose he did not hesitate to use you when occasion demanded.”
“I have undertaken some small enterprises for General Putnam,” answered George.