The story of supposed hardships that he had faced in coming down from Albany he had learned by heart, but it was hard for George to change the soldierly carriage of his shoulders. He was stamped with the imprint of military service. However, by placing a button in the sole of his left boot, he reminded himself of the limp which Richard Blount was supposed to have. The next day, at early dawn, he began his trip, and late in the afternoon he rested at a farm-house, keeping out of sight as much as possible. When darkness came on, under the guidance of a Lieutenant Peck of a Connecticut regiment, he rode away once more southward toward the city. It was almost four o'clock in the morning when Lieutenant Peck stopped. The latter, out of delicacy, had asked no questions, and George had felt in no mood for conversation. Their journey had been made in silence. "Here is the lone oak," said the Lieutenant, "and here I am to leave you and take back the horses. This road will carry you to the British lines. I wish you all success in your dangerous enterprise, for I can guess, sir, what hardships and sacrifices you will have to make. God speed you." George had dismounted. He shook the other's hand, thanked him, and hastened down the road. The papers that were sewed inside his clothes crinkled as he walked. He almost felt as if his courage would give out. What was he going to face? Was he not being made the victim of a wild, reckless enthusiast? Nevertheless he would not back out. It was not in the Frothingham blood to turn. The family motto was "Onward." He would be true to it. As he walked ahead he kept making up his mind what he would say and how he would appear. He was supposed not to be a country bumpkin, but a youth of some education and appearance. He was not to go into hiding when he reached the city, but to live openly, and to spend money lavishly on the soldiers. He was not to talk overly much, but to listen carefully, and to await the orders that he would receive, and act, when the time came, with promptness and fearlessness. He had been going over for the hundredth time the tale of his imaginary and wonderful passage through the American lines; and had traversed perhaps eight or ten miles from the spot where he had separated from Lieutenant Peck, when he saw some men with guns on their shoulders crossing from the woods to the left of the road.