Not that Hadley saw the individual of whom he spoke ahead of him. Indeed, he could not see a dozen feet before the mare’s nose. But there had flashed into his mind the remembrance of the black man, who was one of the few slaves in the neighborhood. Black Sam belonged to the Alwoods, and, although an old man, he was still vigorous. He lived alone in a little hut on the river bank, and it was near his cabin that the Alwood’s bateau was usually chained. The old slave was a favorite with all the boys, and Hadley Morris had reason to know that Sam was to be trusted. When the young dispatch bearer reached the river bank and the black man’s hut, his mare was all of a lather and it was upwards of ten o’clock. The Alwood house was several rods away, and, as was the case with all the other farmhouses he had passed since crossing his uncle’s estate, was wrapped in darkness. Nobody would travel these Jersey roads by night, or remain up to such an hour, unless urgency commanded. Hadley rolled off his mount and rapped smartly on the cabin door. A long silence followed, then, to his joy, a voice from within called, “Who’s dar?” “It’s me--Had Morris. I want you,” whispered the boy. “Want me!” exclaimed the astonished Sam. “Is dat sho’ ’nough you, Moster Had? How come yo’ ’way down yere fr’m de T’ree Oaks? Whadjer want?” “I’ve got to get across the river--quick, Sam! I haven’t a minute to lose.” “Why don’ yo’ go up ter de ferry, Moster?” demanded the negro, still behind the closed door. “I can’t go there. The Britishers are there--and they’re after me!” By this time the old negro had opened the door. “Lawsey, Moster Had! It is sho’ ’nough you. How come yo’ ter git in such er fix?” “I can’t stop to tell you that, Sam.” Then he drew nearer and whispered in the old man’s ear: “I’m going to headquarters. I’ve got dispatches that must reach General Washington.” With this the old slave’s interest seemed to awaken. “Good! Ah’ll come right erlong, Moster Had--Ah’ll come right erlong.” Sam went hurriedly down to the boat and unfastened the chain. Then, both putting their shoulders to the gunwale, they shoved the craft down the sloping beach into the water. Sam placed a wide plank from the shore, and Hadley led Black Molly across and urged her into the boat. Just as they were ready to shove off and the young courier was congratulating himself on the safety of his project, there came a startling interruption. A figure ran down to the landing from the direction of the cabin, and, finding the boat already afloat, the newcomer leaped aboard before Sam and Hadley could push away. “You black limb! I’ve caught you this time. What are you gettin’ the boat out for at this time o’ night?” demanded a wrathful voice which to Hadley seemed familiar. Black Sam, who stood beside him, and whom he could feel begin to shake, whispered in his ear: “Dat ar’s Moster Lon--whadjer goin’ ter do?” CHAPTER IV MAKING AN ENEMY SERVE THE PATRIOT CAUSE