“Tilly,” he answered gravely, “there was a pore soger in there who died. He wanted us to take his despatches to Gates. I reckon we’ll have to go back to Hillsboro’town.” “Back fifteen miles, with the baby sick,” exclaimed the woman in dismay. “Joe Hart, you must be crazy. We shan’t do no such thing. It will lose us a whole day, and we ain’t got any too much time as ’tis. Your own flesh and blood comes before anything else, I reckon. Jest see how the child looks.” The baby did look ill. The father regarded it anxiously, and then glanced about him with an uncertain manner. “The general ought to have them despatches,” he said, “but the child is sick, sure enuff. Mayhap we can find somebody to take the letters back at the next cabin.” “Nay,” objected Peggy. “I promised the soldier that I would see that the papers were given into the general’s own hands; therefore I will ride back with them. We cannot trust to uncertainties.” “Yes,” spoke the wife eagerly. “That is just the thing, Joe. The girl can take them. It’s daylight, and nothing won’t hurt her. We’d best push on to where the baby can be ’tended to. She can catch up with us to-morrow!” “Very well,” replied Peggy quietly. “And, friend, where shall I tell the general to come for the body? Does thee know the place?” The mountaineer glanced about him. “Jest tell him about two mile above the cross-tree crossing,” he said. “On the north side the road. Anybody that knows the country will know where ’tis. I don’t like——” But Peggy bade them good-bye and was gone before he could voice any further regrets. “’Twas useless to parley over the matter,” she thought as a turn in the road hid them from view. “In truth the little one did look ill. I would as soon be alone, and I can return the faster. This awful thing about General Arnold! How could it have happened? Why, oh, why did he do it?” Her thoughts flew back to the night of the tea at General Arnold’s headquarters. How kind he had seemed then. The dark handsome face came before her as she remembered how he had walked down the room by her side, and how proud she had felt of his attention. And how good he had been to John Drayton! Drayton! Peggy started as the thought of the lad came to her. How had he taken it? The boy had loved him so. It is never pleasant to be the bearer of ill tidings, and Peggy found herself lagging more than once in her journey. The afternoon was drawing to a close when she came in sight of the town on the Eno near which the army was encamped. They had passed around it in the morning. Mrs. Hart had feared that her husband might be tempted into staying with the army, and so had insisted upon the détour.