mmer of a star along a pistol barrel, and I drew up
cautiously, loosening my own weapon.

"Who comes?" he questioned shortly, the low voice vibrant. "Speak quick!"

"An officer with despatches," I answered promptly, "riding to
Philadelphia--and you?"

"We are taking a wounded man home," was the reply, the speaker riding
forward. "Are you Continental?"

"Yes. Major Lawrence, of Maxwell's Brigade."

"Oh!" the exclamation was half smothered, the rider drawing up his horse
quickly. I could distinguish the outline of his form now, the straight,
slender figure of a boy, wearing the tight jacket of a Dragoon, the face
shadowed by a broad hat brim.

"Unless I mistake," I ventured cordially, "you must be Eric Mortimer."

"Why do you suppose that?"

"Because while at General Washington's headquarters he mentioned that you
had asked permission to take your father--Colonel Mortimer, of the
Queen's Rangers--to his home at Elmhurst. You left, as I understood, an
hour or two ahead of us. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir; this is Colonel Mortimer's party."

"Then we will pass on without detaining you longer, as we ride in haste.
I met your father once; may I ask if his wound is serious?"

"Serious, yes, but not mortal; he was shot in the right side when Monkton
fell. His horse was hit at the same time, and the animal's death struggle
nearly killed his rider. The surgeon says he may be lame for life."

I reached out my hand, and, with just an instant's hesitation, he
returned the clasp warmly.

"My father is suffering too much for me to ask that you speak to him,
Major Lawrence," he said a little stiffly. "Perhaps later, at Elmhurst--"

"I understand perfectly," I interrupted. "I am very glad to have met you.
We shall ride within a short distance of Elmhurst. Shall I leave word
there that you are coming?"

"Oh, no," quickly, his horse taking a step backward, as though to a
sudden tug of the rein. "That would be useless, as there is no one
there."

"Indeed! I thought possibly your sister."

The lad shook his head, glancing toward the carriage. The slight motion
made me think again of the wounded man we were detaining, and reminded me
as well of my own duty.

"Then, good-night, sir. Sergeant, we will trot on."

The lad touched my sleeve, even as I pricked my horse with the spur, and
I drew the rein taut in surprise.

"What is it?"

"Could you not send your men forward, and ride with me a moment? You
could catch up with t