Dick was warmly welcomed by Captain Hendricks, and speedily mustered in. He doffed his prison-worn clothes for a rifleman's suit, which had belonged to a man who had died in camp; renewed acquaintance with his friend, M'Cleland, who was now a lieutenant in the company, and with Lieutenant Simpson and others from his own part of the country; and passed his days, like the other riflemen, on the hills, blazing away at British soldiers afar in the town, even bringing down a redcoat near the camp on the Common now and then. He counted as a great event his first sight of Washington, as the commander-in-chief rode along the lines when the regiments were assembled for morning prayers. The large, soldierly figure, the mien of dignity and simplicity, the self-contained countenance, quite equalled all Dick's previously formed impressions of the Virginia hero, and would have done so without aid of the buff-faced blue coat over the buff underdress, the epaulettes, the small sword, and the great, warlike cocked hat with its black cockade. On a fine September morning, the 8th of the month, Dick and Tom took note of these general orders of the commander-in-chief: "The detachment going under the command of Colonel Arnold, to be forthwith taken off the roll of duty and to march this evening to Cambridge Common, where tents and everything necessary are provided for their reception. The rifle company at Roxbury and those from Prospect Hill, to march early to-morrow morning, to join the above detachment. Such officers and men as are taken from General Green's brigade, for the above detachment, are to attend the muster of their respective regiments to-morrow morning, at seven o'clock, upon Prospect Hill; when the muster is finished, they are forthwith to rejoin the detachment at Cambridge." "And what do ye think of that, now, sonny," said old Tom, softly. "Do ye mind a word I spoke to ye once, about the wind o' circumstance?" "Why, what do you mean?" queried Dick. "Nothing," said the piper's son, "only that order includes us, and maybe it's well ye keep it guid hauld of the bit picture, for this detachment will be bound for nane ither place than Quebec, lad!" Quebec! Dick reached back and clutched the portrait, which had been restored to its former hiding-place; and only in a vague, distant way he heard the next ensuing words of MacAlister: "It's ever over more hills and farther away, boy; and wha kens but the road will lead to Paris yet, afore all's said and done?" CHAPTER VII. THE MARCH THROUGH MAINE. It was on Monday morning, September 11th, that Dick and Tom marched with their fellow riflemen from Prospect Hill, bound first for Newburyport, thence by sea for the mouth of the Kennebec River, and thence through the Maine wilderness into Canada and to Quebec.