After it was over and the few neighbors gone, Andy and Ruth remained to scatter flowers upon the young hero's bed, and cover up the bareness of the place. "Ruth," said Andy in a whisper, "I think my chance has come!" "Your chance, Andy?" "Aye. I have been thinking that Sam's being taken has aroused me, and given me courage, just as your father said, and--and last night the chance began!" Then he told her of much that had occurred. Ruth knelt among the flowers, her young face glowing. "Oh! I shall have some one to watch," she panted, "some one to help while he works. Oh! Andy, you do not know how I long to help, and be part of this great time. I go on long walks, and I hear and see so much. Down on the Bowery I heard a group say the other day that General Washington was going to burn the town and order the people to flee. One man said, did he order such a thing, he, for one, would go over to the British; and, Andy, there was a great shout from the other men! I felt my heart burn, for did our General order _me_ to go, then would I go whither and where he ordered; nor would I question, so great is my trust in him. And did he burn all, even my home, yet would I gladly obey, for I would _know_ he was doing wisely. So greatly do I honor him that I think, next to God, I trust our General!" The young face glowed and quivered, and Andy, with the spirit of hero-worship growing upon his recent experiences, panted in excitement as she spoke. "I, too, would follow, and never question," he said. "Never fear, Ruth; what the General expects of me, that will I do. Not even death do I fear--it comes but once!" The boyish voice rang clear. Suddenly, Ruth started toward the house. "Wait," she said, "I have something for you." She was back in a moment, bearing Sam's cap. "The time has come," she faltered, and there were tears in her eyes. "I--I want to crown you, Andy McNeal." She removed Andy's rough cap and replaced it with Sam's. "I'll keep the old one," she said, "and--and if you should fail to do bravely, you can have your own!" Then she dashed away the tears. "Forgive me, Andy McNeal!" she sobbed; "you will never fail. There is hero blood in your body, I know, and it may be that your lameness will aid you in accomplishing tasks that a lusty lad could never attempt." Andy raised his head proudly and the new crown set not badly on his boyish curls. "I must go," he breathed. "I will come every day unless--you know, Ruth?" The girl nodded, and so they parted silently, Ruth pressing the old hat to her aching heart, and taking up the woman's part in those troubling times; the part of the watching, waiting one. The days following became filled with one longing for Andy. The longing for Washington's messenger. Unless he came soon, the boy feared that he would be too late. During his own recent explorations beyond the lines, he heard much that warned him that the British were planning something of grave importance.