"My God!" exclaimed Nick.
"It's true enough," said Dave, coolly. "And when John Adams also adds that we have no clothing, no beds, no blankets, no medicines, and only salt pork and flour to eat and little o' these, why, he's right, too. Why not admit truth? Does it help to conceal it? Nenni, lads! It is best always to face it and endeavour to turn into a falsehood tomorrow what is disgracefully true today.
"So when I tell you that in three months our Northern Army has lost five thousand men by smallpox, camp fever, bullets, and privation—that out of five thousand who remain, two thousand are sick, why, it's the plain and damnable truth.
"But any soldier who loses sleep or appetite over such cursed news should be run through with a bayonet, for he's a rabbit and no man!"
After a silence: "Who commands them now?" I asked.
"Gates is to take them over at Crown Point, I hear."
This news chilled me, for Schuyler should have commanded. But the damned Yankees, plotting their petty New England plots to discredit our dear General, had plainly hoodwinked Congress; and now our generous and noble Schuyler had again fallen a victim to nutmeg jealousy and cunning.
"Well," said I, "God help us all in Tryon, now; for a vain ass is in the saddle, and the counsel of the brave and wise remains unheeded. Will Guy Carleton drive us south of Crown Point?"
"I think so," said Ellerson, carelessly.
"Then the war will come among us here in Tryon!"