“Are you in General Putnam’s army?” asked he, all agape.
“No,” replied George, truthfully. “I am not.”
“Small blame to him for asking you that,” said the Irish smith, “for it’s few that go by now but Putnam’s sogers—or the other sort.”
“The other sort!” echoed George, catching at this instantly. “What do you mean?”
“Are you for the king or for Congress?” asked the smith.
“For Congress,” returned George, promptly.
The other came forward and extended a brawny fist.
“Good luck to you, for you’re the right stripe,” said he smiling broadly. “It’s meself that knows but little about the Congress beyant there and what they do be about; but I’m hand and foot with them against the Sassenach, no matter what it is.”
George laughed at this frank declaration of purpose; but instantly came back to the matter of interest.
“The ‘other sort’ I suppose are Tories?” said he.