I could see sentinels to the right and to the left of us, walking about as if on beats. On the hills, not so very far from us, the camp-fires of the American army were burning.
I perceived that it was a time for silence, and I waited for Albert to be leader, as perhaps knowing the ground better than I. A moment came presently when all the sentinels were somewhat distant from us. He stepped forward with most marvelous lightness, and in a few breaths we were beyond the line of the sentinels. I thought there was little further danger, and I was much rejoiced, both because of my escape and because it was Albert who had done such a great service for me.
“I trust you will forgive me, Albert, for some of the hard words I spoke to you,” I said. “Remember that I spoke in anger and without full knowledge of you.”
He put his fingers upon his lips as a sign for me to be silent, and continued straight ahead toward the American army. I followed. Some shots were fired, but we were in a sort of depression, and I had full confidence they were not intended for us, but were drawn by the lights in the British camp. Yet I believed that Albert had gone far enough. He had shown me the way, and no more was needed. I did not wish him to expose himself to our bullets.
“Go back, Albert,” I said. “I know the way now, and I do not wish you to become our prisoner.”
He would not pause until we had gone a rod farther. Then he pointed toward our camp-fires ahead, and turned about as if he would go back.
“Albert,” I said, “let us forget what I said when in anger, and part friends.”
I seized his hand in my grasp, though he sought to evade me. The hand was small and warm, and then I knew that the deception Albert had practiced upon me a night or so before had enabled Albert’s sister to do the same.
“Kate!” I exclaimed. “Why have you done this?”
“For you,” said she, snatching her hand from mine and fleeing so swiftly toward the British camp that I could not stop her.