"Godfrey," I said, "the last chance for truce is passing as you and I stand here,—the last chance for any reconciliation and brotherly understanding between us and our Tory neighbors."
"It is better that way," he said, giving me a sombre look.
I nodded, but all the horror of civil war lay heavy in my heart and I thought of my many friends in Tryon who would wear the scarlet coat tomorrow, and whom I now must try to murder with my proper hands, lest they do the like for me.
Around us, where we were standing, a golden dusk reigned in the forest, into which, through the roof of green above, fell a long sunbeam, lighting the wooded aisle as a single candle on the altar gleams athwart the gloom of some still cathedral.
At five o'clock Godfrey and I had not moved from that silent place where we stood on watch, leaning upon our rifles.
Twice soldiers came to bid us keep close guard in these open woods which, being primeval, were clear of underbrush and deep with the brown carpet of dead leaves.
At last, toward six o'clock, we heard our drums rolling in the distance—signal to scout forward. I ran out among the great trees and started on toward Johnstown, keeping Godfrey in view on my left hand.
Very soon I came out of the forest on the edge of cleared land. Against the evening sky I saw the spires of Johnstown, stained crimson in the westering sun which was going down red as a cherry.
But what held me in spell was the sight that met my eyes across the open meadows, where moving ranks of musket-barrels glanced redly in the last gleam of sunset and the naked swords and gorgets of mounted officers glittered.