Daylight found them at a small river. The bridge was not broken down, and they inferred that it was within the lines of defense. An hour later they learned from a peasant that a British force was camped about fifteen miles north and west, and they induced him with good gold to drive them nearly the whole way in his cart. About a mile from the roadside he insisted on their getting out and drove back rapidly.
"He's afraid his cart and horse would be seized," said Carstairs. "We could have forced him to go on, but we'll not set a bad example."
The road now led over a hill and at its crest Carstairs took off his hat and waved it proudly.
"Don't you see?" he exclaimed. "Look! Look! The British flag!"
"What British flag?" said Wharton. "You've a lot of your rags."
"Never mind they're all glorious. See it, waving there by the tents!"
"Yes, I see it, but why are you English so excitable? Any way it's probably waving over valiant Scotchmen and Irishmen."
"Wharton, you grumpy old Yankee, descendant of sour Puritan ancestors, we've won our way through in face of everything!"
He seized Wharton about the waist, and the two waltzed up and down the road, while John laughed from sheer joy.
"Bill come an' look at the crazy Frenchmen dancin' in the road," said a voice that reeked of the Strand.