_1st Off_. Yes,--and every step of this retreating army only makes it more desperate. I never knew any thing like the mad, unreasonable terror this army inspires. Burgoyne and his Indians!--"_Burgoyne and the Indians_"--there is not a girl on the banks of the Connecticut that does not expect to see them by her father's door ere day-break. Colonel Leslie, what were those men concealing so carefully as we approached just now?--Did you mark them? _2nd Off_. Yes. If I am not mistaken, it was the paper we were speaking of. _1st Off_. Ay, ay,--I thought as much. _2nd Off_. General Arnold, I am surprised you should do these honest men the injustice to suppose that such an impudent, flimsy, bombastic tirade as that same proclamation of Burgoyne's, should have a feather's weight with any mother's son of them. _Arnold_. A feather's, ay a feather's, just so; but when the scales are turning, a feather counts too, and that is the predicament just now of more minds than you think for, Colonel Leslie. A pretty dark horizon around us just now, Sir,--another regiment goes off to-morrow, I hear. Hey? _Leslie_. Why, no. At least we hope not. We think we shall be able to keep them yet, unless--that paper might work some mischief with them perhaps, and it would be rather a fatal affair too, I mean in the way of example.--These Green Mountain Boys---- _Arnold_. Colonel Leslie, Colonel Leslie, this army is melting away like a snow-wreath. There's no denying it. Your General misses it. The news of one brave battle would send the good blood to the fingers' ends from ten thousand chilled hearts; no matter how fearful the odds; the better, the better,--no matter how large the loss;--for every slain soldier, a hundred better would stand on the field;---- _Leslie_. But then----