Just before she reached her goal she saw a mounted Continental officer. His back was turned to her and she debated the advisability of speaking to him. Before she reached a conclusion he had twisted about in his saddle and looked in her direction. The recognition was mutual. He was a young American officer of her acquaintance, Lieutenant Colonel Craig of the light horse. He was evidently amazed at seeing her in such a place, and, riding over, touched his hat. [Illustration: LYDIA DARRAH AND LIEUTENANT-COLONEL CRAIG] “Have you lost your way?” he asked, and before she could answer he added, “and how did you get through the British lines?” She smiled sweetly in spite of her fatigue. “I came to get flour at the mill in Frankford. General Howe was good enough to give me a pass.” “But you are beyond Frankford,” he protested. “Perhaps,” she said hesitatingly, “I may be in search of my son who is an officer in the American army.” “Perhaps,” retorted Lieutenant Colonel Craig, doubtfully. By this time several soldiers on foot came in the direction of the speakers. Lydia became nervous and ill at ease. She plucked at his coat. “Dismount and walk aside with me,” she whispered. “I have something to tell you.” He complied with her request, wonderingly. The Lieutenant Colonel and his companions constituted a squad that had been sent out by Washington to watch the roads and to gather information concerning the enemy. Little did he suspect that such important news was at hand. They walked some yards from the soldiers. “Now,” he commanded, “tell me what in the world you are doing so far from home.” “Lieutenant,” she cried in a voice that trembled in spite of herself, “I came to warn General Washington that General Howe intends to attack the Continental army. He hopes to find General Washington unprepared.” “How do you know this?” “I overheard it last night. The Adjutant-General and other officers met at my house to make their plans. I felt that General Washington must be warned and I walked here for that purpose.” The eyes of the young officer almost stared out of their sockets. He gazed down at the frail woman in amazement and admiration. “Shall I take you to the General?” “No, it is sufficient for you to know. It shall be your duty to tell him. And you must agree not to reveal your source of information. If it was known that I came here it would go hard with me—it might mean my death.” “I promise!” he said, solemnly. Then and there the Quakeress told him all that had taken place in her house at the conference among the British officers. She had an excellent memory and was able to give him all the details of the proposed attack. As she concluded she said: “You must not reveal my identity—even to your men.” “It shall be as you wish, and now you must rest and have food.”