“That’s so,” he said. We laughed again, all together.
“How is everything down there?” I asked, nodding my head toward the south.
“Clinton’s coming with a strong fleet and five thousand men,” he replied. “What they say in the town is all true.”
“Small thanks he will get from Burgoyne,” I said. “Our general will like it but little when Clinton comes to strip him of part of his glory.”
“I suppose you are right,” he answered, “but I did not think Burgoyne was finding his way so easy. I understood that the first battle at Saratoga stopped him.”
“Don’t you trouble yourself about Burgoyne,” I said. “If he stopped, he stopped for ample reasons.”
Which was no lie.
“But we must hasten,” I continued. “Our messages to Clinton will bear no delay.”
“Luck with you,” they said.