Before I entered, I could hear from within the strains of a fiddle; and then opened the door and went in. The girl, Penelope, sat on a block of wood eating soupaan with a pewter spoon out of a glazed bowl upon her knees. Ten soldiers stood in a ring around her, every man jack o' them a-courting as hard as he could court and ogle--which all was as plain to me as the nose on your face!--and seemed to me a most silly sight. For the sergeant, a dapper man smelling rank of pomatum and his queue smartly floured, was a-wooing her with his fiddle and rolling big eyes at her to kill at twenty paces; and a tall, thin corporal was tying a nosegay made of swamp marigolds for her, which, now and again, he pretended to match against her yellow hair and smirked when she lifted her eyes to see what he was about. Every man jack o' them was up to something, one with a jug o' milk to douse her soupaan withal, another busy with his Barlow carving a basket out of a walnut to please her;--this fellow making pictures on birch-bark; that one scraping her name on his powder-horn and pricking a heart about it. As for the girl, Penelope, she sat upon her chopping block with downcast eyes and very leisurely eating of her porridge; but I saw her lips traced with that faint smile which I remembered. What with the noise of the fiddle and the chatter all about her, neither she nor the soldiers heard the door open, nor, indeed, noticed us at all until my militia-men sings out: "Lieutenant Drogue, boys, on duty from Johnstown!" At that the Continentals jumped up very lively, I warrant you, being troops of some little discipline already; and I spoke civilly to their sergeant and went over to the girl, Penelope, who had risen, bowl in one hand, spoon in t'other, and looking upon me very hard out of her brown eyes. "Come," said I pleasantly, "you have kept your word to me and I mean to keep mine to you. My mare is saddled for you." "You take me to Caughnawaga, sir!" she exclaimed, setting bowl and spoon aside. "Tomorrow. Tonight you shall ride with us to the Summer House, where I promise you a bed." I held out my hand. She placed hers within it, looked shyly at the Continentals where they stood, dropped a curtsey to all, and went out beside me. "Is there news?" she asked as I lifted her to the saddle. "Sir John is gone." "I meant news from Caughnawaga." "Why, yes. All is safe there. A regiment of Continentals passed through Caughnawaga today with their waggons. So, for the time at least, all is quite secure along the Mohawk." "Thank you," she said in a low voice. I led the horse back to the road, where my little squad of men was waiting me, and who fell in behind me, astonished, I think, as I started east by north once more along the Mayfield road. Presently Nick stole to my side through the darkness, not a whit embarrassed by my new military rank. "Why, John," says he in a guarded voice, "is this not the Scotch girl of Caughnawaga who rides your mare, Kaya?"