“I will go with you,” I said. “Fevers are uncertain, and one can not tell what may happen.” He hesitated as if he would make demur, but I said: “It is necessary to both of us.” He hesitated no longer, but opened the door wider and stepped out into the portico. I looked with much anxiety to see what sort of watch was kept, and no doubt my companion did the same. It was good. Three sentinels were in sight. Directly in front of us, and about thirty feet away, was Whitestone. The skirmishers and their rifles had not yet gone to sleep, for twice while we stood on the portico we saw the flash of powder on the distant hills. “Lieutenant, I think we had best walk in the direction of the firing and make a little investigation,” I said. “The idea is good,” he replied. “We will do it.” We walked down the steps and into the yard. I was slightly in advance, leading the way. We passed within a dozen feet of Whitestone, who saluted. “Sergeant,” said I, “Lieutenant Belt, who feels much better, and I, wish to inquire further into the skirmishing. There may be some significance for us in it. We will return presently.” Whitestone saluted again and said nothing. Once more I wish to commend Whitestone as a jewel. He did not turn to look at us when we passed him, but stalked up and down as if he were a wooden figure moving on hinges. We walked northward, neither speaking. Some three or four hundred yards from the house both of us stopped. Then I put my hand upon his arm again. “Albert,” I said, “your fortune is far better than you deserve, or ever will deserve.” “I don’t know about that,” he replied. “I do,” I said. “Now, beyond those hills are the camp-fires of Burgoyne. You came thus far easily enough in your effort to get out, though Martyn, who came with you, failed, and you can go back the same way; but, before you start, take off Belt’s uniform. I won’t have you masquerading as an American officer.” Without a word he took off the Continental uniform and stood in the citizen’s suit in which I had first seen him, Belt being a larger man than he. I rolled them up in a bundle and put the bundle under my arm. “Shake hands,” he said. “You’ve done me a good turn.” “Several of them,” I said, as I shook his hand, “which is several more than you have done for me.” “I don’t bear you any grudge on that account,” he said with a faint laugh, as he strode off in the darkness toward Burgoyne’s army. Which, I take it, was handsome of him.