A cavalcade of horses, white, black and chestnut, had turned a corner. Behind them came the foot soldiers, resplendent in buff and blue, ruddy of face, keen of eye. “Hurrah! Hurrah!” Don and Jud swung their caps high into the air. “Hurrah!” cried the rest of the little group. But for the most part the main body of Continentals were greeted with few cheers. The people of the besieged town had suffered too much under Howe and the British; most of the inhabitants remained at doors and windows and were content to wave their hands. “There he is!” cried Jud. “Who? Who?” “General Washington! See, there on the big horse! Don, just look how----” But Don was not listening. All his attention was given to the man who sat with such ease and dignity on the big horse. Never had he seen anyone who looked so thoroughly like his ideal of a soldier. Tall and well-proportioned, the general looked truly noble and majestic. His coat was blue with buff facings, and on each shoulder he wore a rich epaulette. His under dress was buff, and he wore a black cockade in his hat. At his side hung an elegant small-sword. The cavalcade swung past, and the two boys turned to each other at the same time. “Jinks!” exclaimed Jud. “Wasn’t he fine!” “Fine!” echoed Don and with a deep sigh turned again to view the troops. Several ranks of foot soldiers had already passed, but the boys sharply scrutinized those who were approaching. Company after company swung past. Then Jud suddenly spied his father and the next instant one of his brothers. Both recognized him and smiled as they passed. A few minutes later he spied the other brother. Don was worried; not a man had he seen who looked in the least like his uncle or Glen. Company after company, regiment after regiment, marched by, and somehow Don felt his lips beginning to quiver. “It’s too bad, Don,” said Jud. “I’d hoped we’d see Glen and your uncle right off. Here’s the end of the column. Maybe they’ll come later.” Don made no answer; he was wondering how he could tell his aunt that Uncle David had not entered with the troops. He bit his under lip. Maybe his uncle’s wound had not healed. Maybe---- “I’ll see you later, Don,” Jud was saying. “Won’t Ma be glad when I tell her!” Don made his way dejectedly to the little house in Pudding Lane. He could just picture his aunt’s face when he told her the news. He opened the door and with head down stepped inside; the next instant, when he lifted his eyes, he could hardly believe what he saw. There, standing beside his aunt near the fireplace, resplendent in a captain’s uniform was--David Hollis! His arm was round Aunt Martha’s waist, and she was laughing and crying both at the same time. And there in one corner of the room, looking almost as he had looked when Don had first seen him, was Glen Drake! “Donald, my lad!” Don felt the breath almost squeezed from his body, for his uncle was a big man. And then he felt the bones in his hand crunch as the old trapper greeted him.