s and
battery horses, and camp-followers enough for a division. 'Twill be easy
work attending to them, and most of his troops are Dutch and Tories."
My horse was in ill condition, limping sadly, although I could not
discover the cause, and I walked with the men, leading the animal,
through the smouldering clouds of dust. It was a hot, still night, and
Morgan marched us swiftly, with few pauses for rest. By daylight we came
up with the New Jersey militia, lying at rest along the bank of the
Millstone River, waiting their turn to ford that stream, and join Maxwell
on the opposite shore. From where I stood I could see the thin lines of
Continentals spreading out like a fan, as the skirmishers advanced up the
opposite bluffs. Down the trampled bank, men were struggling with a light
battery, and suddenly in the press of figures I came upon Farrell. He was
mud from head to foot, his face streaked with it, but he looked up with
beaming eyes as I spoke his name, and our hands clasped.
"I thought you would be over there with Maxwell," he said, pointing
across at the black dots, now clearly distinguishable in the glow of
sunshine.
"I was left behind, and came up just now with Morgan," I replied. "But I
am anxious enough to be with my own fellows. What means that skirmish
line, Farrell? Are we already in touch with Clinton?"
He swept the hair out of his eyes with his great fist.
"No one knows exactly, but the British are not far off, and are headed
this way. A scout came through with the news two hours ago--Clinton has
taken the road to Monmouth." He chuckled grimly, glancing at my face.
"And who think ye the lad was who told us?"
"Who?" my throat tightening.
"The same you was so anxious about a few days back."
"Mortimer! Eric Mortimer?"
"Aye, unless my eyes fail me already, it was the boy."
"You are sure? You saw him?"
"Well, I had a glimpse, as he came up the bank here from the ford, his
horse dripping. It was dark still, and he only stopped to ask the road. I
knew the voice, and the form--the lad is as slender as a girl--then he
went by me, digging his horse with the spurs, and lying close. He had a
Dragoon's cape flapping from his shoulders, but 'twas the boy all right.
Ah! there go the guns up the bank. Now, perhaps, they'll let me take my
fighting dogs across."
The way was open for me, at least, and I swung up into the saddle, and
drove my horse down the slippery shore into the water. The stream was
|