"Just back from headquarters!" he said. "Lad, lad, I have had you on my mind, and when I heard of your escape, I grew quite young again. The Commander-in-Chief himself rejoiced to hear of it, for the officer with despatches from the north brought the news of your arrival. But when his Excellency heard for what you had gone to New York he grew quite angry. He laid aside my request for active service, though. Too bad the plan fell through! It was my idea.--I wrote and proposed it to the printer." George smiled to himself. Perhaps Mr. Hewes's next venture would be an attempt to capture the King of England. "Did you come along by the Tumble Ridge Road?" inquired the Colonel. He did not catch Aunt Clarissa's warning glance. George wrinkled his forehead. "Now let me think; yes--there's where it occurred," he said. "But wait; I have got to think how it all happened." "Don't try, brother George," said Grace. "Wait until another day." "No, I must tell it now. Where was I?" "You were telling about Lyons Farms," said his sister. "Oh yes! I found an old sledge in a shed much like the one that my good friend Wissinck had driven me in from Paulus Hook. Although old Molly was very tired, I harnessed her up and put the children--there were four of them--in a feather-bed, and drove across the hill. I stopped at the first house that I came across, and found two old women there. You should have heard their stories! The Hessians have been worse than Indians; you would hardly believe it.--But enough. I left the children there with the two old women, and pushed along as best I could three or four miles further. Here I came upon the remains of a camp-fire by the road-side, and was glad enough to find the remnants of a meal in the kettle that hung over the smouldering fire. It had been left hurriedly. "That night I slept in a farm-house in the mountains. The poor old mare was so tired by this time that I determined to make the rest of the trip on foot, and left her in the care of the old farmer, who promised to return her. I shall never forget how I suffered all that day. If it had not been for two rough snow-shoes that I had made out of the staves of a molasses hogshead, I could not have gotten through the snow at all." He paused. "Now comes the part that leads up to my forgetting." George had seemed to gather strength as he went on with the recital. He now sat up straighter, and the color came to his pale cheeks.