“You stayed so long,” he said, “I thought perhaps the fellow had killed you.” “Not by any means as bad as that,” I replied. “I found him to be a very pleasant young man, and we had a conversation long and most interesting.” “About what?” Whitestone could not keep from asking. “About many things,” I replied, “and one thing that I learned was of special importance.” “What was that?” “How to send Clinton and his eight thousand men back below Albany, hold Burgoyne fast, and continue the campaign as it was begun.” “That’s a pretty big job,” said Whitestone, “for one man, and that one, too, rather young and not overweighted with rank.” “Maybe you think so,” I said with lofty indifference. “But I can do it, and, what is more, I will prove to you that I can. You can stay here while I go down to the council of generals and tell them what to do.” Not giving Whitestone time to recover, I stalked off in a state of extreme dignity. CHAPTER XX. NOT A DROP TO DRINK. I pressed into the council of the generals with an energy that would not be denied, also with some strength of the knee, as an officious aid-de-camp can testify even at this late day. As a matter of course, my information was of such quality that everybody was delighted with me and praise became common. Again I felt as if I ought to be commander in chief. Again I had sufficient self-sacrifice to keep the thought to myself. As I left the room they were talking about the disposition of the prisoner who had tried to trick us into precipitate flight and the abandonment of our prey. This put an idea into my head, and I told it to a colonel near the door, who in his turn told it to their high mightinesses, the generals, who were wise enough to approve of it, and, in truth, to indorse it most heartily. I suggested that Albert be sent back to Burgoyne with the most gracious compliments of our commander in chief, who was pleased to hear the news of the speedy arrival of Clinton, which would greatly increase the number of prisoners we were about to take. I asked, as some small reward for my great services, that I be chosen to escort Albert into the British camp and deliver the message. That, too, was granted readily. “You can deliver the message by word of mouth,” said one of the generals; “it would be too cruel a jest to put it in writing, and perhaps our dignity would suffer also.” I was not thinking so much of the jest as of another plan I had in mind. I found Whitestone keeping faithful watch at the tent. “Well,” said he, with a croak that he meant for a laugh of sarcasm, “I suppose the generals fell on your neck and embraced you with delight when you told them what to do.” “They did not fall on my neck, but certainly they were very much delighted,” I said; “and they are going to do everything I told them to do.” “That’s right,” said Whitestone. “Keep it up. While you’re spinning a yarn, spin a good one.”