He dismounted and spread a map on the ground, weighting the corners with pink and red fragments of stones picked up at random. Had he known it, these were pieces of marble, later to make that locality famous, when the quarries were discovered. In silence he studied the map, the bridle rein hanging across his arm. Then he folded it, sprang suddenly into the saddle and continued his thinking aloud as they started off: “Now if we could be sure of the Vermonters in this war, but they seem to think fighting foolish--and in this they may be right, eh, Morgan? New England is in a ferment, but we’ve got to stick by the President and fight it out. Although they call it ‘Mr. Madison’s War,’ that poor man is the most unwilling participant in it! The thing is to find which way the cat will jump here; that’s my business. These secret emissaries from England and Canada may be right here now, rousing the Vermonters to join Canada. But may be the sight of a good old Continental uniform--God bless it!--may bring them our way!” The lake glinted blue in the sunshine, the birds twittered in the forest, as they passed on slowly. Suddenly Captain Dulaney addressed the horse gaily: “Look at that view, Morgan. Shall we let a king wrest it from us? No, I swear it! This air is like wine. Who would live in towns, say I, with houses crowding, one upon the other, peeping over each other’s heads to see the narrow streets that lie between? Not I, for one. Give me trees and sky, rivers and fields, and the green country down in Maryland, ‘Where the Great Lloyd sets his Hall.’” Morgan started. He turned his straight, intelligent face full round and looked at his rider. A smile, quick and magnetic, met his dark, prominent eye. Then a light flooded his horse mind. No wonder he loved this officer! Had he not won him for Mistress Lloyd so long ago? He remembered all now. From the tip of his tail to his fine, sharp ears he quivered with happiness. Maybe after a life-time of waiting he would see her again! Overhead the sky was cloudless, but suddenly across its face came sweeping into view, over-shadowing the woods for a moment, a dense flock of wild pigeons. The Captain leaned forward and patted Morgan’s neck. “Just pigeons, old man! Is that why you shivered? Or is there something you want to say?” But Morgan could not answer in words, he could only hope and serve. He did wish, however, that Captain Dulaney would not call him “old”! He had years of usefulness before him yet! “I wish my sweet wife were here now to enjoy this view with us!” Morgan replied with a toss of his head. “But she is coming!” Morgan whinneyed, softly, and trembled all over.