“You can deliver the message by word of mouth,” said one of the generals; “it would be too cruel a jest to put it in writing, and perhaps our dignity would suffer also.”
I was not thinking so much of the jest as of another plan I had in mind.
I found Whitestone keeping faithful watch at the tent.
“Well,” said he, with a croak that he meant for a laugh of sarcasm, “I suppose the generals fell on your neck and embraced you with delight when you told them what to do.”
“They did not fall on my neck, but certainly they were very much delighted,” I said; “and they are going to do everything I told them to do.”
“That’s right,” said Whitestone. “Keep it up. While you’re spinning a yarn, spin a good one.”
“It’s just as I say,” I said, “and as the first proof of it, I am going to take the prisoner as a present to Burgoyne.”
Turning my back on the worthy sergeant, I entered the tent, and found Albert reclining on a blanket, the expression of chagrin still on his face. To tell the truth, I did not feel at all sorry for him, for, as I have said before, Albert had been a great care to me.
“Get up,” I said with a roughness intended, “and come with me.”
“What are they going to do with me?” asked Albert. “They can’t hang me as a spy; I was taken in full uniform.”