“They seem greatly interested in their talk,” observed Walter, still gazing toward the lad on the bay horse and the black clad statesman. “I never saw Mr. Jefferson so excited, and I’ve seen him many times and listened to his speeches.” “And it’s no wonder, Master Stanton, that he do be excited now,” said Shamus. “Sure he’s listening to better news then he’s heard in many a long day. While taking a gallop on the north roads this morning, Master Ethan and meself came upon a courier from New York whose horse had stumbled, thrown him and broken his leg. We carried him to an inn where he’d be taken care of; and when he found out who Master Ethan were he handed over his despatches and bid us ride to the city wid them and give them to Mr. Hancock, the president of the Congress.” “There is news from the north, then?” cried Walter, his eyes opening wider in expectation. “Good news, too, you said, O’Moore,” said Philip Morgan. “Come, now, tell us what it is.” The other boys had risen from their seats upon the benches, and all crowded eagerly about the grim looking dragoon. “What’s the news?” they clamored. “Tell us the news.” “Ye’ll hear it in another moment,” said O’Moore, a smile flickering on his lips. “Here comes Master Ethan now.” The sober looking gentleman in black, had just waved the boy upon the horse delightedly away; the lad touched his mount with the spur and dashed down the street toward the state house. Mr. Hancock stood upon the low stone steps in the midst of a group of members engaged in earnest talk, when the bay was pulled up sharply, and the boy upon his back called in a voice that trembled with excitement: “Mr. Hancock.” That gentleman raised his brows in some little surprise at this; then his face wrinkled in a smile and he nodded his recognition. “News from the north!” cried the boy as he swung a bulky saddle packet over his head. The expression of every man present changed instantly; every voice was hushed, every face was strained and anxious. For weeks they had been swayed, pendulum-like, between hope and fear; and now the result was to be known. “Burgoyne,” shouted the boy, as he swung himself exultantly from his horse, “has surrendered to General Gates at Saratoga.” Then, amidst the clapping of hands and the shouts of the crowd that had gathered like magic, he strode across the walk, his spurs jingling on the flags, and handed the despatches to the president of the Continental Congress. CHAPTER II HOW A SPY LISTENED AT THE WINDOW Shamus O’Moore took his young master’s horse and his own to a neighboring stable where they were in the habit of putting them up, and then returned to the state house. Ethan was busy with a huge portfolio of Mr. Jefferson’s papers in a small room at the south end; from the hall came the murmur of voices and now and then a steady flow of words which showed that some member was addressing the Congress.