"Mortimer! Eric Mortimer?"
"Aye, unless my eyes fail me already, it was the boy."
"You are sure? You saw him?"
"Well, I had a glimpse, as he came up the bank here from the ford, his horse dripping. It was dark still, and he only stopped to ask the road. I knew the voice, and the form—the lad is as slender as a girl—then he went by me, digging his horse with the spurs, and lying close. He had a Dragoon's cape flapping from his shoulders, but 'twas the boy all right. Ah! there go the guns up the bank. Now, perhaps, they'll let me take my fighting dogs across."
The way was open for me, at least, and I swung up into the saddle, and drove my horse down the slippery shore into the water. The stream was not deep, although the current flowed swiftly, and a moment later I had found Maxwell.
"Yes," he said to my first question, "we are going to fight, although it may not be anything more serious than skirmishing to-day. Washington has decided in spite of Lee, thank God, and we'll have a go at the Red-coats. Lafayette commands the advance, and Wayne will be up within a few hours. We are to skirmish forward toward Monmouth Court House; Clinton has turned that way."
"You learned that from a scout?"
"Yes; he just came through; one of Charles Lee's men, I understood—a blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked boy, who said his name was Mortimer. He had ridden from Cookstown, and was reeling in the saddle, but would go on. Your men are over there, Major, beyond the clump of timber. In my judgment we'll accomplish little to-day, for there is a heavy storm in those clouds yonder."
"How many men will we have when Wayne comes up?"
"About four thousand, with the militia. We are ordered to hang close to Clinton's left, while Morgan circles him to the right. 'Tis said the British have transports, at Sandy Hook, and are trying to get there; that was the word young Mortimer brought in."