“I know, Harriet,” replied Peggy without stopping. “I am going to Liberty Hall. An attempt will be made to-night to capture the governor. He must be warned.”
“How know you that such attempt will be made?” asked her cousin, riding up beside her. “Are you daft, Peggy?”
“Nay; I found a letter in the road saying so,” explained Peggy. “Will thee come too, Harriet? And there is no time for chat. We must hasten. Perhaps though thee would better ride back to tell mother.”
“’Tis indelicate for females to meddle in such matters,” cried Harriet excitedly. “Think how froward your father will think you, Peggy. Wait! we will go back to camp, and send relief from there, as doth become maidens.”
“It could not reach the garrison in time, as thee knows,” returned Peggy, keeping steadily on her way. “Do not talk, Harriet. We must ride fast.” The letter was still in her hand.
“Let me see the letter,” said Harriet. “Where did you get it? It could not have been long in the road, for ’tis not muddy. Who could have dropped it?”
“Harriet, thee is detaining me with thy clatter,” spoke Peggy with some sharpness. “Thee has seen the letter, and know now the need for action. Either come with me or ride back to camp. We must act.”
“You shall not go,” exclaimed Harriet reaching over, and catching hold of Star’s bridle. “’Tis some joke, and beside, your mother will be waiting for us. Come back!”
Peggy drew rein and faced her cousin with sudden suspicion. “Harriet,” she said, “is that letter thine?”
“Mine?” Harriet laughed shrilly. “How could it be mine? I was not anywhere near when you found it. Besides, I never saw the governor until yesterday. How could I be concerned in his capture then?”