One bit of information of quite a different sort did, however, seep into the beleaguered town. Rumor had it that a valiant soldier from Virginia—Col. George Washington—was coming to Cambridge to take command of the entire Continental army. Don heard the news from Jud, who in turn had heard it from a storekeeper in Orange Street.
“Col. George Washington—why, he was with Braddock and saved what remained of the British army after the French and Indians had ambushed them.” Don’s eyes were wide with admiration. “When’s he coming, Jud? Say, he’s a great man!”
“He’s one of the finest soldiers there ever was,” said Jud. “He’ll make things hum when he arrives. Give him an army and he won’t be long in driving the Redcoats into the sea!”
“When’s he coming?” Don asked again.
“Oh, in a few days, so they say. I heard that he’s already on his way and that Congress had made him commander-in-chief just a day or so before the fight over Charlestown way.”
“I’d surely like to see him,” said Don. “Glen Drake knows him and has fought beside him. He says he’s the finest looking man he ever saw.”
“Have you heard anything of Glen or your uncle?”
Don immediately became grave. “Not a word, Jud,” he replied.
The first two weeks in July came and passed, and it was known definitely that General Washington had reached Cambridge and had taken command of the army beneath a large spreading elm tree.
Still no word came concerning David Hollis. Aunt Martha went mechanically about her housework and had got into the habit of reading much and of talking little. Other people who had relatives in the Continental army had managed to get word of them—somehow; but David Hollis and his friend, the trapper,—it seemed at times almost as if they never had existed.