“You have many, sir,” I answered, “as you will find when the time comes.”
“The time has come,” said he; “to-day I shall be able to count them. Davy, I want you to do something for me.”
“Now, sir?” I answered, overjoyed.
“As soon as the sun strikes that orchard,” he said, pointing out of the window. “You have learned how to keep things to yourself. Now I want you to impart them to others. Go out, and tell the village that I am going away.”
“That you are going away, sir?” I repeated.
“That I am going away,” he said, “with my army, (save the mark!), with my army and my drummer boy and my paper money. Such is my faith in the loyalty of the good people of these villages to the American cause, that I can safely leave the flag flying over their heads with the assurance that they will protect it.”
I stared at him doubtfully, for at times a pleasantry came out of his bitterness.
“Ay,” he said, “go! Have you any love for me?”
“I have, sir,” I answered.
“By the Lord, I believe you,” he said, and picking up my small hunting shirt, he flung it at me. “Put it on, and go when the sun rises.”