“Certainly,” said Albert, in a tone of great emphasis.
“It is strange,” I said, “that we did not hear of his near approach until we took you this morning. Our scouts and skirmishers have brought us no such news.”
“It is probably due to the fact, general,” said Albert politely, “that we captured your scouts and skirmishers as we advanced northward. Our celerity of movement was so great that they could not escape us.”
“That was remarkable marching, in truth,” I said admiringly. “You Englishmen are as rapid in movement as you are strenuous in battle.”
“Thank you, general,” said Albert, with complacent vanity. I felt a strong inclination to kick him. I hate Tories, and, in particular, those who would have people think they are Englishmen.
“I believe you said Sir Henry Clinton had several thousand men with him,” I resumed.
“I did not say it,” replied Albert, “but most unfortunately it was revealed in the dispatches which you captured upon me. I may add, however, that the number is nearer eight thousand than seven thousand.”
I understood the impression he wished to create, and I was willing to further his humor.
“Eight thousand with Sir Henry Clinton,” I said, as if musing, “and Burgoyne has six thousand; that makes fourteen thousand, all regular troops, thoroughly armed and equipped otherwise. We can scarce hope to capture both armies.”
“Not both, nor one either,” said Albert in derision. “As a matter of fact, general, I think you will have some difficulty in looking after your own safety.”