Pretending to make an entry in his diary he hastily scribbled off these lines:
“Friend Benedict:
Owing to circumstances over which I have no control, I am unable to take any further steps in that little matter of ours at present; the boys have in point of fact scooped me. You would have been a better man in my place. Hoping to meet you in the happy hunting grounds, I am yours, in limbo,
André.
P.S.—By the way, hadn’t you better drop in upon our mutual friend General Clinton at New York and remain with him for a few days until it blows over? I only throw this out as a mere suggestion. Good bye.
A.”
Watching his opportunity when his captors’ backs were turned, the Major slipped this epistle into the coffee-pot, clapped on the lid, and, having diverted the canine’s attention by means of a piece of salt pork, which had been originally laid out for the approaching meal, hastily appended the tin vessel to his caudal extremity, and having with nice precision turned the animal’s nose in the direction of Arnold’s tent, he gave the tail an agonizing twist, and—and the party did without coffee that night.
The yellow dog came duly to hand, and Mr. Arnold was not slow in acting upon the hint contained in the message he brought. With that long-headedness which is the characteristic of the true man of business he anticipated any investigation of his conduct that might follow by resigning and changing his residence at once. We learn that he subsequently went to Europe, but up to the present writing has not yet returned.
Instance of canine sagacity.