not
deep, although the current flowed swiftly, and a moment later I had found
Maxwell.

"Yes," he said to my first question, "we are going to fight, although it
may not be anything more serious than skirmishing to-day. Washington has
decided in spite of Lee, thank God, and we'll have a go at the Red-coats.
Lafayette commands the advance, and Wayne will be up within a few hours.
We are to skirmish forward toward Monmouth Court House; Clinton has
turned that way."

"You learned that from a scout?"

"Yes; he just came through; one of Charles Lee's men, I understood--a
blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked boy, who said his name was Mortimer. He had
ridden from Cookstown, and was reeling in the saddle, but would go on.
Your men are over there, Major, beyond the clump of timber. In my
judgment we'll accomplish little to-day, for there is a heavy storm in
those clouds yonder."

"How many men will we have when Wayne comes up?"

"About four thousand, with the militia. We are ordered to hang close to
Clinton's left, while Morgan circles him to the right. 'Tis said the
British have transports, at Sandy Hook, and are trying to get there; that
was the word young Mortimer brought in."

The bath in the water seemed to have helped my horse, but I rode slowly
up the valley toward the wood which served as my guide. Troops were
strung along the sandy expanse of valley, the men mostly lying down,
exhausted by their hard night's march. These were of my own brigade, men
of the Pennsylvania and Maryland Line, uniformed in well-worn blue and
buff. Already the sun beat down hot upon them, the air heavy and dead. No
breath of breeze stirred the leaves, or grass blades, and most of those
lying there had flung aside their coats. Over all the western and
southern sky extended a menacing bank of clouds, slowly advancing, huge
thunder-heads, already jagged with forked lightnings, pushing up into the
blue. Before I reached the skirmishers, great drops of rain fell, and
then a downpour, utterly blotting out the landscape. Lightning flashed,
the thunder unremitting, the rain a flood, water leaped down the side of
the hill in cascades, and, blinded, I drew my horse back into the slight
shelter of the wood, and waited, gripping him by the bit. Men ran back
down the hill, seeking shelter from the fury of it, and I bent my head,
soaked to the skin. For the first time I realized how tired I was, every
muscle aching with the strain of the long night's march, my he