The last that Ethan saw of this gallant pair they were standing upon the flags of a Paris street waving their hats in farewell as he and Longsword once more took the road for Brest.
The young American and Irish dragoon arrived in good time at that seaport and boarded the cruiser the day before she sailed. After a voyage of six weeks against contrary winds they were landed at Baltimore, and at once set out for Philadelphia.
Since they had set foot in that city it had been in the hands of the British, and Sir Henry Clinton had only evacuated it a short time before.
Dr. Franklin’s dispatches were delivered to Mr. Hancock, and were eagerly received and laid before Congress.
“I hope, sir,” said Ethan to Mr. Jefferson when he presented himself to the great Virginian, “that you did not object to my sailing with Captain Jones and so delaying my return.”
“Not in the least,” said Mr. Jefferson. “Dr. Franklin wrote me the reason for it; you did what I would have expected you to do—and you did it well.”
“Things are going badly for the cause, sir, I hear.”
“You arrive home at the country’s most gloomy period,” said Jefferson, gravely. “Dark shadows seem to overhang us, and the British press upon us from every side; the want of money makes Congress all but helpless; our armies are lately scattered in the south, and in the north Washington can do little more than fly before the battalions of Clinton.”
There was a silence between them for some time; then Ethan said quietly:
“In that case, sir, it seems to me that the nation wants a soldier much more than you want a secretary.”