round the house were packed with soldiers, some leading out mules, some
loading batt-horses, some drawing and carrying water, some forming
ranks, shouting their numbers for column of fours.

Sir George Covert's riders of the Legion had halted under my window,
rifles slung, helmets strapped; a trumpeter in embroidered jacket sat
his horse in front, corded trumpet reversed flat on his thigh.

Clearing my eyes with unsteady hand, I peered dizzily at the spectacle
below; my ears rang with the tumult of arrival and departure; and,
through the increasing uproar and the thundering rhythm of the drums,
memories of the past night flashed up, livid as flames in darkness.

The endless columns of Continentals were still pouring by the stockade,
when, above the dinning drums, I heard my door shaking and a voice
calling me by name.

"Ormond! Ormond! Open the door, man!"

With stiff limbs dragging, I made my way to the door and pulled back the
bolt. Sir George Covert, in full uniform, sprang in and caught my
hands in his.

"Ormond! Ormond!" he cried, in deep reproach. "Why did you not tell me
long since that you loved her? You knew she loved you! What blind
violence have you and Dorothy done yourselves and each other--and me,
Ormond!--and yet another very dear to me--with your mad obstinacy and
mistaken chivalry!"

I saw the grave, kind eyes searching mine, I heard his unsteady voice,
but I could not respond. An immense fatigue chained mind and tongue;
intelligence was there, but the tension had relaxed, and I stood dull,
nerveless, my hands limp in his.

"Ormond," he said, gently, "we ride south in a few moments; you will be
leaving for Stillwater in an hour. Gates's left wing is marching on
Balston, and news is in by an Oneida runner that Arnold has swept all
before him; Stanwix is safe; St. Leger routed. Do you understand? Every
man in Tryon County is marching on Burgoyne! You, too, will be on the
way towards headquarters within the hour!"

Trembling from weakness and excitement, I could only look at him in
silence.

"So all is well," he said, gravely, holding my hands tighter. "Do you
understand? All is well, Ormond.... We struck McCraw at Schell's last
night and tore him to atoms. We punished the Senecas dreadfully. We
have cleared the land of the Johnsons, the Butlers, the McDonalds, and
the Mohawks, and now we're concentrating on Burgoyne. Ormond, he is a
doomed man! He can never leave this land save as a prisoner!"