"A report for me, is it not, Lieutenant Chester?" he asked. I said yes, and stated it briefly, while the others listened with attention. Then I stood awaiting the general's further orders. "It is just as I told you," he said emphatically to Charles Lee, and seeming to forget my presence. "Our army will overtake theirs in three days at furthest, and we must strike with all our strength. We may be able to destroy Clinton's army, and then our cause will be won." "But Clinton has more men than we," replied Charles Lee, in protesting tones, "and his equipment is much superior." "He retreats, and we pursue," said the general-in-chief. "That is true," rejoined Lee; "but I think we should be very cautious." His words and tone did not indicate zeal. How heartily I have since cursed the traitor, and how many others have done the same. "And why so cautious?" burst in the impetuous Wayne. "One cannot win a battle unless he fights!" "You might have found caution a good thing, General Wayne," replied Lee, in smooth, soft tones. "Remember how they cut you up at Paoli." Wayne flushed with anger, but he was too manly to deny his only disaster. "It is true," he said, "but the fault was mine. My troops did not get a chance to fight. Here they will have it." "We shall invite our own rout," said Lee. "The Americans cannot stand the British grenadiers." It was the feeling of an old race towards a new one that spoke in him, and this man, who proved himself a traitor to two countries, the old and new, was unwise enough to say it. "You are mistaken," said the commander-in-chief, promptly and emphatically. "That is a delusion which the British may cherish, but not we. This war has furnished too many instances to the contrary. The attack shall be made, General Lee, and you shall lead it. We must end this war as soon as possible, and benefit two nations; for I take it that Englishmen do not love to kill Americans, any more than Americans love to kill Englishmen." Throughout the talk Greene said nothing, sitting there upon the log, looking calm and decided. I like this quality of stanchness in the New Englanders. They stick fast, whatever else you may say about them, and that I think wins more than anything else. I received my instructions a moment later and retired. As I walked away, I met Marcel. "Was it a council of war?" he asked. "I think so." "I hope that you gave them the proper instructions." "I did my best," I replied in the same spirit. "They had no right to expect more," rejoined Marcel; "but it's a great pity I was not in your place." Perhaps he would have given them advice. Marcel had great confidence in his judgment. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE--_Under the Apple-Trees_