"Sir,--Upon the receipt of this, you will concentrate your
squadron, so as to be in front of a covering party which the
enemy has sent up in front of his foragers, by ten o'clock
to-morrow on the heights of Croton,[130] where you will find
a body of foot to support you. The escape of the English spy
has been reported to me, but his arrest is unimportant,
compared with the duty I now assign you. You will,
therefore, recall your men, if any are in pursuit, and
endeavor to defeat the enemy forthwith. Your obedient
servant,

"GEO. WASHINGTON."

[Footnote 130: a river flowing into the Hudson about
thirty-two miles above New York; high ground bordering on
this river.]

"Thank God!" cried Dunwoodie, "my hands are washed of Henry's
recapture; I can now move to my duty with honor."

"And with prudence, too, dear Peyton," said Frances, with a face as
pale as death. "Remember, Dunwoodie, you leave behind you claims on
your life."

The youth dwelt on her lovely but pallid features with rapture, and,
as he folded her to his heart, exclaimed:

"For your sake I will, lovely innocent!" Frances sobbed a moment on
his bosom, and he tore himself from her presence.

The peddler and his companion soon reached the valley, and, after
pausing to listen, and hearing no sounds which announced that pursuers
were abroad, they entered the highway. After walking at a great rate
for three hours they suddenly diverged from the road, which inclined
to the east, and held their course directly across the hills in a due
south direction. This movement was made, the peddler informed his
companion, in order to avoid the parties who constantly patrolled in
the southern entrance of the Highlands, as well as to shorten the
distance by travelling in a straight line.

The peddler became more guarded in the manner in which they
proceeded, and took divers precautions to prevent meeting any moving
parties of the Americans.

A steep and laborious ascent brought them from the level of the
tide-waters to the high lands that form, in this part of the river,
the eastern banks of the Hudson. The day was now opened, and objects
could be seen in the distance with distinctness. To Henry and the
peddler the view displayed only the square yards and lofty masts of a
vessel of war riding a few miles below them.

"There, Captain Wharton," said the peddler--"there is a safe
resting-pla