As the youth approached, the man at the foot of the tree arose, and returned the salutation, which seemed unheeded by the rest. He advanced a step or two and invited the stranger to be seated. This action, and the looks turned towards him by the others, showed that he was in authority of some sort among them. With him, therefore, our traveller concluded that the proposed conference was to be held. . . . . . . . . .
He was at length asked whence he came, and answered, from the neighborhood of Richmond.—From which side of the river?—From the north side.—Did he know anything of Van Courtlandt?—His camp was at Bacon’s branch, just above the town.—What force had he?
“I cannot say, certainly,” he replied, “but common fame made his numbers about four thousand.”
“Is that all, on both sides of the river?” said his interrogator.
“O, no! Col. Loyal’s regiment is at Petersburg, and Col. Cole’s at Manchester; each about five hundred strong; and there is a piquet on the Bridge Island.”
“Did you cross there?”
“I did not.”
“Where, then?” he was asked.
“I can hardly tell you,” he replied, “it was at a private ford, several miles above Cartersville.”
“Was not that mightily out of the way? What made you come so far around?”