"Right double!" I called. Then, as order followed order, the left platoon stepped forward, halted, and dressed.
"Take care to form column by platoons right, right front. To the right—face! March!"
The gates were flung wide as we passed through, and, wheeling, swung straight into the streets of Johnstown with a solid hurrah!
A battalion of Massachusetts infantry was passing St. John's Church, filling William Street with the racket of their drums. White cross-belts and rifles shining, the black-gaitered column plodded past, mounted officers leading. Then a field-piece, harness and chains clanking, came by, breasting the hill at a gallop, amid a tempest of cheers from my riflemen. And now the Tryon County men were passing in dusty ranks, and more riflemen came running up, falling in behind my company.
"There's Tim Murphy!" cried Elerson joyously. "He has your horse, Captain!"
Down the hill from Burke's Inn came Murphy on a run, leading my horse; behind him sped the Weasel and a rifleman named Sammons, and Burke himself, flourishing a rifle, all greeted lustily by the brown ranks behind me, amid shouts of laughter as Jimmy Burke, in cap and fluttering forest-dress, fell in with the others.
"Captain Renault, sorr—" I turned. Murphy touched his raccoon cap.
"Sorr, I hov f'r to repoort thot ye're sweet lady, sorr, is wid Butler at Johnson Hall."
"Safe?" My lips scarcely moved.
"Safe so far, sorr. She rides wid their Major, Ross, an' the shtaff-officers in gold an' green."