“For the present,” I replied, bowing. I rejoined Sergeant Whitestone in the hollow. He was still puffing at his pipe, and I do not think he had changed his position by the breadth of a hair. I told him I had found nothing at the house, and asked what he thought of the case. “We may look for work to-night, I think,” he replied very gravely. “It’s most likely that the British will try to send somebody through at this point. All the Van Aukens, except the women, are with Burgoyne, and as they know the ground around here best they’ll go to Burgoyne and have him send the men this way.” That was my thought too. Whitestone is a man of sound judgment. I sent two of our lads toward the house, with instructions to watch it, front and rear. It was my intent to visit them there later. Then I joined Whitestone in a friendly pipe and found much consolation in the good tobacco. Kate’s manner had nettled me the least bit, but I reflected that perhaps she was justified, as so many of her people were with Burgoyne, and, moreover, she was betrothed to Chudleigh, an Englishman. Chudleigh, an officer with Tryon in New York before the war, had come down from Canada with Burgoyne. So far as I knew he had passed safely through the last battle. I had naught in particular against Chudleigh, but it seemed to me that he might find a wife in his own country. The day was slow. I would rather have been with the army, where there was bustle and the hope of great things, but Whitestone, a pack of lazy bones, grunted with content. He stretched his long body on the ground and stared up at the sky through half-closed eyes. A mellow sun shone back at him. Toward noon I sent one of the men to the house with a request for some small supply of provision, if they could spare it. We had food, a little, but we wanted more. Perhaps I ought to have gone myself, but I had my reasons. The man came back with two roast chickens. “The old lady gave me a blessing,” he said with a sour face, “and said she’d die before she’d feed rebels against the best king that ever lived; but the girl gave me these when I came out the back way.” We ate our dinner, and then I changed the sentinels at the house. Whitestone relapsed into his apparent lethargy, but I knew that the man, despite his seeming, was all vigilance and caution. We looked for no happenings before dark, but it was yet a good four hours to set of sun when we heard a noise in the south and saw some dust rising far down the hollow. Sergeant Whitestone rose quickly to his feet, smothered the fire in his pipe, and put his beloved companion in an inside pocket of his waistcoat. “A party coming,” I said. “Yes, and a lot of ’em, too, I think,” he replied, “or they wouldn’t raise so much dust.”