“Come, then,” said the colonel. Peggy slipped from the chair and running up-stairs quickly to her own room, sat down to think. “I must not go with John,” was her decision. “He must get to the general without delay. They said ’twould end the war if he were taken. And it would. It would! I wonder what the time is?” It was but half-past two, and it seemed to the anxious girl as though four o’clock, which was the time for Drayton’s appearance, would never come. But at last she heard the clock in the hall chime out the hour, and Peggy arose, wrapped herself warmly, and left the house quietly. The snow was still falling. The numerous trees on the wide-spreading lawn, as well as the huge snow-drifts, effectually hid the road from view of the mansion. Peggy had scarcely taken her position near a bare thicket when she heard the crunch of wheels over the snow, and soon the ox cart appeared down the road. Drayton was whistling, and to all appearance was the countryman he seemed. Peggy awaited him with impatience. “John,” she cried as the lad drew up opposite her, “John, there is an alert planned to take General Washington. Cousin William starts at nightfall for Morristown with a force to accomplish it.” “What?” exclaimed he. Peggy repeated her statement, and then quickly told him the entire affair. “And thee must lose no time,” she said. “Go right on, John, quickly.” “And you, Peggy?” he cried. “Jump in and let us take the risk of getting through together.” “No,” she said. “Thee must stop for nothing. ’Twould hinder thee in getting to the general. Now go, John. ’Twill not be long ere the troops gather here.” “But to leave you, Peggy,” he exclaimed. “I like it not. Were it not for the chief I would not. It may be best. As you say there is need for haste, but I will come again for you.” “No, no; ’tis too full of risk,” she said. “Go, John, go! I fear for thee every moment that thee stays.” “I am going,” he said sorrowfully. “Tell me by which road this alert goes?” “To Newark, and then by the Morris turnpike. They get a guide at Amos Henderson’s,” she told him. “Good-bye,” he said. “I will come again for you, Peggy.” “Good-bye, John,” answered Peggy hardly able to speak. “And tell my mother—my mother, John——” “Yes,” he said. They clasped hands. “Don’t worry, Peggy. This will be the alert that failed.” Peggy waited until she could no longer hear his cheery whistle down the road and then stole back into the house. Drayton was right. Four and twenty hours later the most disgruntled lot of Britishers that the city ever beheld returned, fatigued and half frozen from their fruitless quest. The famous alert from which so much was hoped had failed. ----- [3] “Alert,” an old word meaning an attack. CHAPTER XXVI—THE BATTLE WITH THE ELEMENTS “Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and fast blew the blast And the east wind was his breath.”