go forward, feel the enemy's outposts, and see
if the enemy was still retreating.

Making my choice, I passed our pickets with three men, and made my way
cautiously to the last pass in the hills which was in the enemy's
possession at nightfall. But not a sign of their pickets or troops
could I find; so I boldly advanced in the pass, and, crossing the
ridge, found myself on the heights overlooking Freehold. It was a
small town of scattered houses, and beyond it I could see the lights
of the British camp-fires.

But as the heights were not near enough for our purpose, we descended
into the plain, and carefully made our way toward the town, where I
knew certain patriots were, who, if I could once get speech with them,
would tell me the whole plans of the enemy.

We could hear the tramp of feet at the further side of the village,
and all the sounds of an army in retreat. Being now so close to them,
and in great danger, we moved with the utmost caution. Near at hand,
on the outskirts of the town, stood a large, square stone house,
separated from the rest of the houses by an immense garden. Having
found a break in the hedge, we entered.

It was an old garden, filled with boxwood walks and flowers run wild.
Very prim at one time it must have been; but, now that the war had
helped the return to nature, it was a wild and tangled mass.

Making our way through the garden, a light was suddenly thrown upon
our path, and, glancing up, I saw that it came from a window which,
though it was on the first floor of the house, was yet some distance
from the ground.

Then the figure of a woman crossed the window, stopping for a moment
to look out, while we stood in the shadow of the hedge, holding our
breath. But she passed on, and I, determining to see into the room to
discover whether it contained friend or foe, quickly gained the
shelter of the wall of the house. The wall was of rough hewn stone,
and with the help of my comrades' shoulders, I raised myself high
enough to glance over the window-sill, and what I saw there made me
drop to the ground quickly.

Then, whispering to my comrades to stay where they were, I made my way
to the rear entrance of the house, and, finding the door unfastened,
softly entered the hall; and then I was standing in the door of the
room from which the light came.

A lamp stood on a table near a long horse-hair sofa with spindle legs,
on which lay the figure of a man. The coat had been cut from his
s