“If you desire to see General Putnam in person,” said the ensign, “you’ll first have to see Major Hyde. And as he happens to be our cousin to Peggy Camp, you’ll no doubt get along famously with him.”
The laugh that followed this sally was still ringing in George’s ears as he crossed the room to speak to Major Hyde, who was seated at a big table engaged in writing. The major was a young man of sallow complexion and with a cold, supercilious manner.
“Well,” demanded he, his lip drawing back from his fine teeth in a sneer that seemed one of his characteristics, “what now?”
George resentfully slapped his dispatch bag upon the table, being careful, however, to keep a grip upon it.
“Dispatches,” said he, bluntly, with a salute. “From General Washington to General Putnam.”
“Ah, yes.” Major Hyde’s hand went forward toward the packet. “I will take charge of them.”
But as the hand advanced, the packet retreated. “My orders,” said young Prentiss, drily, “are that these dispatches be delivered into General Putnam’s hands only.”
There were several other officers seated about the room transacting headquarters business; at the young man’s words they looked up, surprised. Major Hyde sprang to his feet, his eyes snapping with anger.
“What do you mean?” cried he. “You’ll do as I bid you. Don’t forget that! I am your superior officer.”
“I am aware that you are,” replied the young man, “but my orders from General Washington are unmistakable, sir. And he is your superior officer.”