“That was a fine story,� said Bill. “I like real true stories.�
“And it ends just right,� said Harry.
“Oh, that is not the end,� laughed McLane.
Then the boys were curious and questioned their friend, but he would tell them no more.
“To bed,� he cried, and rolled them up in blankets on the cabin floor.
IV
The days went by, and on the afternoon of December thirtieth the boys rode out of camp, the twins well wrapped up in front of troopers and Tom mounted on a troop-horse. The day was pleasant and warm for the season, and McLane pushed on at speed down the west side of the river.
It was a long and hard ride and the twins were tired when, nine miles from the city, at a friendly farmer’s, pickets were put out and they spent the night and were well fed.
They stayed all of that day at the farm, and at seven on New Year’s Eve the Sergeant went back to camp, leaving but six men. Presently, to Tom’s amazement, McLane came out of the barn with his Lieutenant, both dressed as British officers and the men as King’s soldiers. Then they mounted as before and rode slowly toward town. Tom, very curious, asked questions. McLane laughed: “Only a little fancy ball, Tom, and don’t talk. I want to think. Later I hope to send you a dispatch.� Tom was puzzled, but rode on in silence.
About nine at night they were just outside of the English pickets, not far from the Schuylkill. Here they rode into a wood and dismounted. Then McLane on foot led the boys down the Lancaster Road.