George almost fell, and so overcome was he that he could not reply.
Captain Clarkson hurried up and grasped his hand. "God bless you, my boy!" he said, much affected.
"I pray you will accept the loan of the uniform," said the young aide. "There will be no time to get another."
At first George demurred, but his new friend insisted.
"You will honor it," he said, showing his fine teeth in a gracious smile. "No need of further thanks."
A tall dark man spoke up. "I have a vacancy in my regiment. May I have this young man to fill it?" he asked.
Washington smiled. "You are hereby assigned to Colonel Hand's regiment of rifles," he said. "Now, gentlemen, there is work before us on Long Island."
George, huddled under a canvas tent an hour later, in the clumsy boat that was ferrying him and some of his brother officers across the East River, glanced at the lace on his cuffs.
"I never thought of asking his name," he said, out loud. "What a dolt I am!"
One thing had begun to weigh on his mind increasingly. He had heard no news of Carter. He breathed a fervent prayer that he would see his friend again.