“It has been told me,” he went on moodily again. “Also that he has his hired desperadoes here in these streets waiting their chance to kidnap me. I am no coward, Captain Page; so much I think I may say without boasting. Yet there is something in that Scripture that speaks of the terror of the arrow that flieth by day and the pestilence walking in the darkness. It will go hard with any or all of these assassin emissaries of Mr. Washington’s if I can ferret them out.” “It should, if you can catch them,” I agreed. “But in the meantime, you should take no risks, General; your safety means too much to the king’s cause. You may call it a flattery if you will, but it is the simple truth that the King’s Army on this side of the water does not hold another commander who could fill your place, sir,” I said, meaning, of course, that there was no other base enough. “Oh, as to that,” he said, slipping on his air of grandeur as if it had been a coat. “It would hardly become me to agree with you, Captain Page. Still, what I have done for the Congress and Mr. Washington, I can do for Parliament and King George, I suppose. But we are wandering from the point. I was about to say that one of our friends gives a farewell rout and supper to the officers of the Loyal Americans to-night, and I thought that perhaps, partly because of Mr. Washington’s hired Mohawks, and partly from a desire to show your maiden uniform, you would walk with me, Captain Page.” I said I would be blithe to go; which was both false and true. I thought it hard that I should have to show myself as a Virginia Page in public places wearing the feathers of a carrion bird. But on the other hand, I was ready to bind myself to Sir Iscariot by every tie that offered itself. So, when he had buttoned himself into a great watchcoat, thrusting, as I observed, a pair of short, thick-barreled dueling pistols into the outer pockets, we took the stair for it, and so came down to the steps where the crusty soldier stood at attention and saluted as we passed him. Before we had gone many steps in the street I thought I heard this soldier’s footfalls, or another’s, close behind. Thinking it was a good time to show my bodyguard watchfulness with little hurt to anybody, I said, “One moment, General,” clapped hand to sword-hilt, and made as if I would face about and charge the man who was following us. But Arnold restrained me. “No, not this time, Captain,” he said lightly. “It is only our door-keeping sentry, and he has orders to keep in touch with us. The streets are dark, and if there should be an attack, three of us might be none too many.” Having the information that I wanted, I caught the step again, and when we had gone a little farther on our way, I made bold to ask who our soldier-follower was. “You should know him, as I take it, Captain Page,” was the calm reply. “It is Sergeant Champe, late of the rebel Henry Lee’s Light Dragoons.” V A KISS AND A MAN’S LIFE