The colonel was delighted at the recapture, and praised me with such freedom that I began, to have a budding suspicion that I ought to be commander in chief of the army. However, I made no mention of the suspicion. Instead, I suggested to the colonel that as Chudleigh had escaped once, he might escape again, and it would be well to exchange him for some officer of ours whom the British held. The colonel took to the idea, and said he would speak to the general about it. In the morning he told me it would be done, and I immediately asked him for the favor of taking Chudleigh into the British camp, saying that as I had been his jailer so much already, I would like to continue in that capacity until the end. The colonel was in great good humor with me, and he granted the request forthwith. As I left to carry out the business, he said, “The exchange is well enough, but we’ll probably have your man back in a few days.” In truth it did look rather odd that the British should be exchanging prisoners with us upon what we regarded as the unavoidable eve of their surrender, but they chose to persevere in the idea that we were yet equal enemies. Nevertheless, the coils of our army were steadily tightening around them. All the fords were held by our troops. Our best sharpshooters swept the British camp, and it is no abuse of metaphor to say that Burgoyne’s army was rimmed around by a circle of fire. I found Chudleigh reposing under a tree, and told him to get up and start with me at once. “What new expedition is this?” he asked discontentedly. “Can not I be permitted to rest a little? I will not try to escape again?” I told him he was about to be exchanged, and I had secured the privilege of escorting him back to his own people. “That’s very polite of you,” he said. I really believe he thought so. For the second time I entered Burgoyne’s camp under a white flag, and saw all the signs of distress I had seen before, only in a sharper and deeper form. The wounded and sick were more numerous and the well and strong were fewer. It was a sorely stricken army. But I did not waste much time in such observations, which of necessity would have been but limited anyhow, as the British had no intent to let any American wander at will about their camp and take note of their situation. When we were halted at the outskirts, I asked the officer who received us for Albert Van Auken, who, I said, was a friend of mine and of whose safety I wished to be assured. He was very courteous, and in a few minutes Albert came. Albert was glad to see me, and I to see him, and as soon as we had shaken hands I approached the matter I had in mind. “Madame Van Auken, your mother, and your sister, are they well, Albert?” I asked.