"How do you know that I want to return?"
"I am speaking seriously."
"I am sure it will not be a difficult matter," he said. "A man alone can pass the fortifications of any city without much trouble. It is not a matter that I worry about at all. But please remember that you are Mrs. Elias Gardner, my wife, as questions may be asked of you before this night's journey ends."
The flush stole over her cheeks again, but she said nothing.
Prescott picked up the long whip, called a "black snake," which was lying on the seat and cracked it over the horses, a fine, sturdy pair, as he had noticed already. They stepped briskly along, as if anxious to warm themselves after their long wait in the cold, and Prescott, who was a good driver, felt the glorious sensation of triumph over difficulties glowing within him.
"Ho, for a fine ride, Mrs. Gardner!" he said gaily to the girl.
His high spirits were infectious and she smiled back at him.
"With such an accomplished driver holding the lines, and so fine a chariot as this, it ought to be," she replied.
The horses blew the steam from their nostrils, the dry snow crunched under their heels, and the real Elias Gardner slumbered peacefully under his own chicken crates as they approached the earthworks.
As before, when they had walked instead of coming in their own private carriage, they soon saw the sentinel, half frozen but vigilant, and he promptly halted them. Prescott produced at once the pass that he had picked from the pocket of the unconscious Elias, and the sentinel called the officer of the guard, who appeared holding a dim lantern and yawning mightily.