“So would I,” said Tom.
“Yes, and get captured again,” grinned Ben. “You are not cut out for spy-work, Tom. You are too impulsive.”
“Oh, I don't know about that,” demurred Tom. “I'd like to try spying, on my own hook, once, like Dick does.”
“I don't think either of us would be as successful as Dick,” remarked Ben.
“That is phwat Oi think,” said Tim Murphy, the Irish soldier. “Av inywan, now, could come innywhere near bein' as good at spyin' as Dick, phwy Fritz here,” he continued with a grin, “would be the mon, Oi'm thinkin'.”
Fritz Schmockenburg, the Dutch soldier, grunted.
“I bet me dot I vould mage ein better sby as vot your vould, Tim Murphies,” he said placidly.
And then ensued a good-natured dispute between the two, who, although they quarrelled frequently, and to one who did not understand them would seem to be very angry at each other and enemies in fact, were the best of friends. And Tom and Ben egged the two on, for they liked to hear them talk, it affording something in the way of amusement to pass away the time, which was beginning to hang heavy on their hands, camp-life being rather dull and trying, especially to youths like them, who had always been used to an active life in the open fields.
Dick had gone to headquarters, and on reaching there, he was given a cordial greeting by Generals Washington and Putnam.
“You sent for me, your excellency?” said Dick, after saluting.