As Danvers turned away to give his attention to young Wheelock, who was again plucking warningly at his sleeve, O’Moore noticed Walter Stanton and favored him instantly with a stiff, formal salute.
“Hello, O’Moore,” said Walter. “Where is Ethan?”
“Master Ethan will be here in a few moments,” returned O’Moore. “There he is beyant, speaking with Mr. Jefferson.”
The lads turned their eyes in the direction indicated, and saw a gentleman garbed in sober black standing in the footway some little distance off conversing excitedly with a clean built, handsome boy of seventeen, who was seated astride a powerful bay horse.
“Did you know that Ethan was secretary to Mr. Jefferson, now?” asked Walter, as they watched the two with interest.
“Yes,” answered Philip. “His father and Mr. Jefferson were great friends, O’Moore, were they not?”
“Indeed, yes, sir,” said the ex-dragoon. “And Mr. Jefferson visited him at New Orleans before the war came on.”
“They seem greatly interested in their talk,” observed Walter, still gazing toward the lad on the bay horse and the black clad statesman. “I never saw Mr. Jefferson so excited, and I’ve seen him many times and listened to his speeches.”
“And it’s no wonder, Master Stanton, that he do be excited now,” said Shamus. “Sure he’s listening to better news then he’s heard in many a long day. While taking a gallop on the north roads this morning, Master Ethan and meself came upon a courier from New York whose horse had stumbled, thrown him and broken his leg. We carried him to an inn where he’d be taken care of; and when he found out who Master Ethan were he handed over his despatches and bid us ride to the city wid them and give them to Mr. Hancock, the president of the Congress.”
“There is news from the north, then?” cried Walter, his eyes opening wider in expectation.