George watched some crows waddling out in the field. Suddenly they took flight, and the young Lieutenant saw what had put them up. He reined in his horse. "Adam Bent Knee," he ejaculated, and placing his fingers to his lips he gave the well-remembered whistle.
The old Indian stopped, and then striking into a gait, half run, half lope, he came across the snow.
"How! how!" he said, grasping the lad's extended hand.
Here was the first welcome. After the old Indian had answered a few questions about what was going on on the Hewes place, George pushed ahead. He had been sighted coming up the lane, and the few servants ran out to meet him. Cato danced about like a headless chicken, and rubbed his hand over his tear-wet check.
Little Grace, now a tall slender girl, wept for joy, and kissed the bronzed young soldier over and over again. Aunt Clarissa was nowhere to be seen.
"She's locked herself in the left wing," said Grace. "She says she will not see you. Don't grieve; perhaps she will change her mind."
Then she had held her brother off at full arm's-length, and looked at him from head to foot.
"You are just like the portrait of father in the hall," she said. George placed his arm about her waist, and went inside the house.
Aunt Clarissa did not put in her appearance, and that afternoon the young Lieutenant had ridden with the despatches over to Colonel Hewes's. What they contained he did not know. But they were evidently of importance, and this was soon to be proved.