The Irish dragoon had been his father’s orderly in the English army, and had come to America with him; Major Carlyle was an Oxford man, and attended to his son’s education himself while at sea; but it was the grim, hard visaged Shamus that taught him how to develop his muscles to the hardness of steel, and how to use cutlass, sabre, pike, bayonet and small-sword. The Irishman had spent years in the study of arms; his sword-play had been the marvel of the British army when he served in the Inniskillens, and had earned for him the name of “Longsword.” Day by day this master of fence had drilled the boy in sword-play. But in spite of his aptness, Ethan never drew a word of praise from Longsword, who continued to labor with him, between decks, in the dog watches, relentlessly, remorselessly, mercilessly. The boy could close his eyes in his bunk, during his watch below, and still see the angular, powerful figure of the dragoon before him; he could see the light from the ports falling upon the scarlet scar that crossed his face, he could see the flashing of the heavy double-edged sword and the constant movement of the tireless arm. He never complained at the labor of the drill. But one day as they were in the midst of a lesson that had lasted above an hour, Ethan in a sudden burst of impatience had refused to give way before the dragoon’s heavy attack; a desperate rally ensued, and to the astonishment of the watching sailors, the boy actually drove Shamus back before a storm of lightning-like blows. And then Longsword threw down his blade, uttered a wild Irish whoop that rang through the ship, sprang forward and clutched his pupil in a bear-like hug. “At last!” he exulted. “Ye’ve done it at last. I’ve taught ye all I know, and I’ve only been waiting to have ye use it on meself to get the feel of it. There will be no more lessons, Master Ethan; all ye need is strength and weight, and then faith, even Shamus O’Moore will be careful how he stands forninst ye!” These things were running through Ethan Carlyle’s head as he sorted over the papers of Mr. Jefferson. At last Congress adjourned, and the members streamed out of the building and down the quiet street. Then Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Hancock entered the room with quiet steps. The boy arose and bowed and then was about to go on with his work, when his employer said: “Never mind that for a time, Ethan; there is something which we desire to say to you.” The lad looked at the great Virginian wonderingly; then as he and Mr. Hancock seated themselves at a table near a window, he crossed the room and stood beside them. “Sit down,” said Mr. Hancock, pointing to a chair. The boy did so, and then the president of the Congress went on. [Illustration: _“I’LL DO IT,” SAID ETHAN PROMPTLY_] “There is a service which you can render Congress and your country if you will.” Ethan’s eyes lit up. “Then consider it done, sir, if the power to render the service rests in me.”