“As well as was likely under the circumstances,” I replied. “I hope that you slept soundly?” “Nothing disturbed us after your invasion of our house,” she said with fine calmness. “Now, will you help me draw this water? Since the approach of the armies there is no one left in the house save my mother and myself, and we must cook and do for ourselves.” I helped draw the water, and even carried the filled pail to the house for her, though she dismissed me at the door. But she atoned partly for her scant courtesy by bringing us a little later some loaves of white bread, which she said she had baked with her own hands, and which we found to be very good. We had but finished breakfast when the soldiers who were to relieve us came, and right glad were we to see them. They were followed a few minutes later by the colonel in charge, to whom I related the affair of Captain Martyn, and to whom I showed the order commanding us to withdraw. He instantly pronounced it a forgery and commended us for staying. “It was a traitorous attempt to get through our line,” he said, “but we are none the worse off, for it has failed.” I said nothing of Kate Van Auken’s share in the conspiracy, but I told him the women in the house inclined strongly to the Tory side. “I will see that the house is watched every moment of the day and night,” he said. Then I felt easy in mind and went off to sleep. When I awoke it was about two by the sun, and the afternoon was fine. I heard that fresh troops had arrived from the Massachusetts and New Hampshire provinces in the morning, and the trap was closing down on Burgoyne tighter than ever. Everybody said another great battle was coming, and coming soon. Even then I heard the pop-pop of distant skirmishing and saw an occasional red flash on the horizon. I was eager to be at the front, but such duty was not for me then. As soon as I had eaten I was sent back with Sergeant Whitestone and the same men to keep watch at precisely the same point. “Best take it easy,” said the sergeant consolingly. “If the big battle’s fought while we’re away we can’t get killed in it.” Then he lighted the inevitable pipe, smoked, and was content. I questioned very closely the men whom we relieved near the house, and they said there had been nothing to note. The elder woman had never come out of the house, but the younger had been seen in the yard several times, though she had naught to say, and seemed to be concerned not at all about anything. I thought it best not to visit the house, and took my station with Whitestone in the valley, disposing the men in much the same manner as before. Whitestone puffed at his pipe with the usual regularity and precision, but some of his taciturnity was gone. He was listening to the sounds of the skirmishing which came to us fitfully.