Just then he felt something rustle behind him, and he saw that a piece of paper was thrust into his bayonet sling. He drew it out. There was no time to read it then, but his spirits rose, for it was addressed to him in Carter's handwriting.
In a few minutes the relief came up, and as soon as he could get a moment to himself George opened the note.
"Dear George," it ran, "I have been away on Long Island. Have lots to tell you. I have received a leave of absence to-morrow, and will see that you can get away also. Apply to your captain for leave. Then meet me at Striker's wharf, and we will go for a sail. I know where we can get a small boat. To-morrow at nine o'clock.
"Yours always,
Carter."
Promptly on time George was there, for Captain Clarkson had given him permission at once. He had been waiting but a few minutes when he saw Carter hurrying down the wharf. He began to talk as soon as he got within earshot.
"Dreadful sorry," he said, breathlessly. "But I have been ordered back at once to my command. I have to go. But if I can get away again I will let you know it."
"It doesn't look as if we were going to have any fighting here," said George. "What is the hurry?"
"Oh yes, we will!" returned Carter. "But General Howe does not believe in forcing matters. Good-by. You'll be an officer soon, I'll warrant, and then we will not have to take so much trouble to spend a day together. I wish—"
He broke off suddenly, turned, and walked away. George was about to follow, when he saw two officers, one in a general's uniform, approaching. He drew himself up at attention as they passed by.
"There's a big difference between a stripe on your arm and an epaulet on your shoulder," he said, half aloud. "I'm beginning to find that out."