He was too tired to sleep, and his thoughts ran rampant. What must William think of him? What was his brother doing? Why could not he see the right side? Oh, the bitterness of it! When would it end? Perhaps one of those bullets whose sound he now knew so well would settle things for good and all. If only William were here by him!
"Look back at the city!—look!" said a voice from the hay.
Far to the southward great red tongues of flame were leaping against the sky; billows of smoke swept up and caught the reflection of the flames, and sparks filled the air and danced out over the river. The city was on fire.
As George watched the conflagration from the window of the hay-mow, which was now crowded with excited soldiers, some men on horseback passed by beneath him.
"There's a warm reception for them," said a short thick-set man with a round chubby face. His voice had a cheery sound.
"I don't think that it was fired by our directions, General Putnam," came the answer.
"Probably it was done by the British themselves. They're not above it. Gadzooks, it is a grand sight!" said the short man, "and many a Tory heart is thumping with fear against its Tory ribs, I'll warrant ye." There came a pause, and then the speaker added, "What was the name of the lad who saved the powder train?"
"Aaron Burr," was the answer.
"No, not he—the young Lieutenant, I mean—the one who brought the news from Staten Island?"
"His name has slipped me," replied the second officer, "but I heard the General himself speak well of him."