“From—from the Three Oaks Inn,” stammered Hadley. In his own ears his voice sounded from a long way off.
“And who gave them to you?” was the next query.
Hadley stammered worse than ever in trying to tell this, and John Cadwalader took pity upon him. “So many strangers confuse the lad, General. But he’s by no means a youngster without resources. From his own story I reckon him a youth of action rather than of words,” the colonel said, smiling.
“Egad!” exclaimed one of the amused officers, under his breath, “it’s boys like him we want, then.”
Rapidly Cadwalader related the story of the injury to the dispatch bearer at the Three Oaks Inn, of Hadley’s escape from the dragoons with the papers, and of his adventures on the road; just as the boy had told it to him in the carriage. Meanwhile General Washington had slit the wrapper of the packet and unfolded the papers it contained. He nodded now and then as Cadwalader’s story progressed, but at the same time he glanced hastily over the papers.
“Ha! the boy has done us all a service,” the Commander said at length. “These matters are most important. The papers come direct from New York, gentlemen, and we have here at last a sure outline, I believe, of His Lordship Howe’s intentions. It is well, my lad,” he said, glancing again at Hadley, “that you let not the packet fall into the hands of the enemy. Our work would have been put back some days,—perhaps crippled. I must see more of you. You seem heartily in sympathy with our country’s cause. Why have you not enlisted?”
“Egad, General!” exclaimed the same subordinate who had before spoken, “I’ll set him to drilling myself if he’ll enlist. He’s a man’s stature now, if not a man’s age.”
The boy flushed and paled by turns as he listened to this. “Come, speak up, Master Morris!” exclaimed Cadwalader, encouragingly.
“I—I cannot enlist, if it please your honors,” the boy said. “My uncle will not let me.”
“And who is this precious uncle of yours who’d keep a well-set-up lad like you out of the army?” demanded the second officer.