"'Tis evidently a feint, your Excellency," presently asserted one of the observers, "to cover a genuine attack elsewhere—most likely above the Haarlem."
The person addressed—a man with an anxious, care-worn face that made him look fifty at least—lowered his glass, but did not reply for some moments. "You may be right, sir," he remarked, "though to me it has the air of an intended attack. What think you, Reed?"
"I agree with Mifflin. The attack will be higher up. Hah! Look there!"
A rift had come in the smoke, and a column of boats, moving with well-timed oars, could for a moment be seen as it came forward.
"They intend a landing at Kip's Bay, as I surmised," exclaimed the general. "Gentlemen, we shall be needed below." He turned to Reed and gave him an order concerning reinforcements, then wheeled, and, followed by the rest, trotted over the plowed field. Once on the highway, he spurred his horse, putting him to a sharp canter.
"What troops hold the works on the bay, Mifflin?" asked one of the riders.
"Fellows' and Parsons' brigades, Brereton."
"If they are as good at fighting as at thieving, they'll distinguish themselves."
"Ay," laughed Mifflin. "If the red coats were but chickens or cattle, the New England militia would have had them all captured ere now."
"They'll be heard from to-day," said a third officer. "They've earthworks to git behind, and they'll give the British anuther Bunker Hill."