Albert yawned prodigiously. I guessed that he must have been up all the previous night to have become so sleepy. He would have relapsed into slumber, but the penetrating streak of sunshine would not let him. It played all over his face, and inserting itself between his eyelids, pried them open. Albert sat up, and, after the manner of man, rubbed his eyes. He knew that some one was in the tent with him, but he could not see who it was. I had taken care of that. I was in the dark and he was in the light. “Well, what is it you wish?” he asked, after he had finished rubbing his eyes. I guessed that he took me for one of the general officers who had been examining him. I have a trick of changing my voice when I wish to do so, and this was one of the times when I wished. “I am to ask you some further questions in regard to the matters we were discussing this morning,” I said. “Well!” said Albert impatiently, as if he would like to be done with it. “According to the dispatches which we secured when we took you,” I said, “Sir Henry Clinton was very near at hand with a large army.” “Certainly,” said Albert, in a tone of great emphasis. “It is strange,” I said, “that we did not hear of his near approach until we took you this morning. Our scouts and skirmishers have brought us no such news.” “It is probably due to the fact, general,” said Albert politely, “that we captured your scouts and skirmishers as we advanced northward. Our celerity of movement was so great that they could not escape us.” “That was remarkable marching, in truth,” I said admiringly. “You Englishmen are as rapid in movement as you are strenuous in battle.” “Thank you, general,” said Albert, with complacent vanity. I felt a strong inclination to kick him. I hate Tories, and, in particular, those who would have people think they are Englishmen. “I believe you said Sir Henry Clinton had several thousand men with him,” I resumed. “I did not say it,” replied Albert, “but most unfortunately it was revealed in the dispatches which you captured upon me. I may add, however, that the number is nearer eight thousand than seven thousand.” I understood the impression he wished to create, and I was willing to further his humor. “Eight thousand with Sir Henry Clinton,” I said, as if musing, “and Burgoyne has six thousand; that makes fourteen thousand, all regular troops, thoroughly armed and equipped otherwise. We can scarce hope to capture both armies.” “Not both, nor one either,” said Albert in derision. “As a matter of fact, general, I think you will have some difficulty in looking after your own safety.” “By what manner of reasoning do you arrive at that conclusion?” asked I, wishing to lead him on. “Oh, well, you know what British troops are,” said Albert superciliously; “and when fourteen thousand of them are together, I imagine that troubles have arrived for their enemies.”