“There is one thing I like about the war as conducted in Virginia,” Tom said to Cole one morning as they were ready to depart on a scout. “There are not nearly so many Tories; there is not that neighbor against neighbor which exists in Carolina. Up here almost every enemy wears a red coat.” This was the day that Tom intercepted a dispatch from Sir Henry Clinton, calling Cornwallis to the seacoast. He reported in the afternoon to the commander. “But where is the dispatch?” asked Lafayette. “Lord Cornwallis has it by this time, I suppose,” answered the scout. “Ah!” Lafayette looked at his horseman sharply. “Tell me about it.” “I and my servant, general, sprang upon the courier just as he was climbing the bank after crossing the James. We took his papers and let him go. As you directed me to do in every case, I read the dispatches in order to assure myself that they were worth bringing to your notice.” “Yes!” said the general, expectantly. “General Clinton desires Lord Cornwallis to at once proceed to the coast, and hold himself ready to reinforce the army at New York.” “Ah, is Washington pressing Sir Henry so close!” cried Lafayette, delighted. “If so I see the end coming at last. But proceed.” “During the morning,” continued Tom, “I was sighted by a scouting party of the enemy. I had sealed up the dispatches about as I got them, and in my flight I managed to drop them, as though by accident. This ruse, I thought, would lead General Cornwallis to think that the contents of the dispatches were still secret.” “Very good!” said the French general, his lip closing in a firm line. “This perhaps will lead to something.” What it led to was this: Cornwallis, in answer to Clinton’s appeal, set his force in motion from Williamsburg to Portsmouth. He was upon the point of crossing the James when Lafayette attacked him with great fury, under the impression that the main body of his army had already crossed. A day or so before, Tom had been despatched in hot haste to the camp of General Wayne to urge him to form a junction with Lafayette. At the prospect of a fight “Mad Anthony” had leaped to his feet and roared out his orders to make ready to break camp. And, as it happened, it was he that led the attack upon Cornwallis at the James. Tom, who had a high admiration for the courage of this dashing soldier, had asked leave to remain with him during the fight, and had granted the permission with a laugh. “I may want a fast horse to carry back my news of victory,” said he, a twinkle in his eye, “and,” with a glance of appreciation at Sultan, “you have the best in the army.” It was only a short time after this that they threw themselves upon the enemy. General Wayne’s eyes opened wide at sight of their great array. “We’re attacking Cornwallis’ entire force,” cried a staff-officer in dismay. “Shall we sound the retreat?” Wayne threw his eagle eye over the field. “No,” he shouted, hotly. “Sound the charge.”