“Help, help, comrades! Help! help!”
Figures advanced from the firelight, and I glided away without noise. From my covert in the darkness I could see them lift Hume from the tree and carry him into his own camp. Then I went farther away, feeling glad.
It was my intent to rejoin Whitestone and the soldiers, and in truth I went back part of the way, but the British camp had a great attraction for me. I was curious to see, as far as I could, what might be going on in its outskirts. I also encouraged myself with the thought that I might acquire information of value.
Thus gazing about with no certain purpose, I saw a figure coming toward me. One of our sharpshooters or spies returning from explorations, was my first thought. But this thought quickly yielded to another, in which wonderment was mingled to a marked extent. That figure was familiar. I had seen that swing, that manner, before.
My wonderment increased, and I decided to observe closely. I stepped farther aside that I might not be seen, of which, however, there was but small chance, so long as I sought concealment.
The figure veered a little from me, choosing a course where the night lay thickest. I was unable to make up my mind about it. Once I had taken another figure that looked like it for Albert, and once I had taken it for Albert’s sister, and each time I had been wrong. Now I had my choice, and also the results of experience, and remained perplexed.
I resolved to follow. There might be mischief afoot. Albert was quite capable of it, if Albert’s sister was not. The figure proceeded toward our post, where I had left Whitestone in command for the time being. I fell in behind, preserving a convenient distance between us.
Ahead of us I saw a spark of fire, tiny but distinct. I knew very well that it was the light of Whitestone’s pipe. I expected the figure that I was following to turn aside, but it did not. Instead, after a moment’s pause, as if for examination, it went straight on toward the spark of light. I continued to follow. Whitestone was alone. The soldiers were not visible. I suppose they were farther back.
The gallant sergeant raised his rifle at sight of the approaching figure, but dropped it when he perceived that nothing hostile was intended.
“Good evening, Miss Van Auken,” he said most politely. “Have you come to surrender?”