feeling came over the young soldier; his knees trembled with excitement. He would go to death for a man like this. Ah! if his brother William were only here beside him. Thinking of this brought back the old scenes at Stanham Mills. It seemed most strange that he should be standing with his musket at his side, armed and arrayed to fight the forces of the King. As these thoughts ran through his mind he was ordered to fall out and take a position as sentry at the edge of the green, where the crowd pressed close upon the group of officers. As he did so a familiar voice sounded behind him. Without turning he recognized that it was Carter's father speaking—Colonel Hewes—then a member of Washington's staff.

"We must be aggressive," said Colonel Hewes. "Take Canada, by Jove! Build a fleet and threaten the shores of England; not wait here as if we wished to parley."

"Your ideas are advanced, Colonel," replied another voice.

"Yes, that's what they said three years ago when I predicted this war—ay, and cast cannon and saved money for it," said Colonel Hewes, bitterly.

The two speakers passed out of hearing, and soon the order was given for the regiments to pass in review.

On they came; first his own, marching well and steadily. The chills of delight ran up and down George's spine; regiment after regiment, the country's bravest and best. Many hearts surged with pride that day. At last there came a company from New Jersey, and in front of it marched Carter Hewes, a Lieutenant's epaulet on his left shoulder.

It was some months now since the boys had seen one another, and in the mean time Carter had been at Bunker Hill, and had been promoted for bravery to be a Lieutenant at eighteen.

After the parade had been dismissed George sought the headquarters of the New Jersey regiment, eager to see his friend and hear the news. As he turned about a corner the pounding of hoofs was heard, and a cavalryman rushed by, his sword clanking against his horse's flanks. As he passed a group of officers seated on a porch, he drew up slightly.

"The British fleet has entered the Narrows," he called, and dashed along.

The booming of the guns was heard coming from the southward. Governor Tryon's floating fortress was hailing the new-comers.

Now the drums were rolling and despatches were being sent about the city. George gave up all idea of finding Carter that night, and hastened back to his command.

But the ships advanced no further than the lower bay, and there they came to anchor. The days went by and nothing of importance happened. Carter and George did not meet. The latter had been promoted to be a sergeant, however, and had been transferred to a New Jersey regiment.

The weather was insufferably hot. No one who dwelt in the city of New York could ever recall such heat as poured down upon the city during these days of anxious waiting. Hardly a breeze had stirred for a week, and the heated air shimmered and quivered in the glaring streets, and the dust raised by horses' hoofs or by a marching company hung in the air like smoke, until it settled without drifting to one side or the other.

More volunteers were being secured to swell the American forces every day, but they were mostly farmers who had enlisted for short terms of service, and to whom soldiering was a new trade.

Sergeant Frothingham was sick of the continuous drill, and was glad enough to be placed one day in charge of the sentries at the Kenedy House, Washington's headquarters, on the lower end of Broadway. This duty led to a decided break in the monotonous routine.

As he had posted the guards for the first time, a bugle sounded, and an aide-de-camp ran up the stone steps from the street. George, standing by the door, saluted, and the aide hurried inside the house.

The news he bore was of importance, for soon some of the best-equipped regiments marched out into Battery Green; they formed two lines that extended from the boat-landing to the doorsteps of the headquarters.

Before long Washington himself, accompanied by his staff, came out of the hallway; they stood so close that George could hear every word that passed.

"Present arms!" came the order down the two long lines that stretched to the sea-wall.

Up the alley thus formed came a group of officers, and in their midst walked one in a red coat.

"The emissary from Lord Howe down the bay," said some one in a low voice.

The officer in red came up the steps and uncovered. "I am Colonel Patterson, of Lord Howe's staff, and bear communication to you, sir, I believe," he said, addressing Washington.

The General took the big envelope, and looked at it carefully.

"This is addressed to George Washington, Esq., etcætera, etcætera," he said. "I cannot receive a letter from the King's commissioner, sir, addressed to me as a private person when it relates to my public station." All this was spoken in a firm, even tone, without a trace of anger.

"Allow me to explain its contents," said the British officer, impressed.

"It is merely an intimation that pardon will be granted if arms are laid down, I understand, sir," went on Washington. "But we have done no wrong; we wish no pardon; we are only defending our indisputable rights."

"It is a wide field for argument," replied Colonel Patterson.

Washington bowed, and answered by requesting the honor of the English Colonel's presence at luncheon.

When the latter was taking his leave, George, who was standing close to the doorway, once more overheard the end of the conversation.

"Has your Excellency no commands to my Lord and General Howe?"

"None, sir, but my compliments to both of them."

This scene thrilled the young sentry through and through. Oh, if he only could do something to serve the General personally! What would he not give for a grasp of that firm hand again!

He was standing with his back to the door when he felt something like a pull at his cross-belts. As he straightened up an officer came by him, acknowledged his salute carelessly, and hastened away. It was Lieutenant Carter Hewes.

George felt hurt. "He might have recognized me by a look at least," he said, beneath his breath.

Just then he felt something rustle behind him, and he saw that a piece of paper was thrust into his bayonet sling. He drew it out. There was no time to read it then, but his spirits rose, for it was addressed to him in Carter's handwriting.

In a few minutes the relief came up, and as soon as he could get a moment to himself George opened the note.

"Dear George," it ran, "I have been away on Long Island. Have lots to tell you. I have received a leave of absence to-morrow, and will see that you can get away also. Apply to your captain for leave. Then meet me at Striker's wharf, and we will go for a sail. I know where we can get a small boat. To-morrow at nine o'clock.

"Yours always,
Carter."

Promptly on time George was there, for Captain Clarkson had given him permission at once. He had been waiting but a few minutes when he saw Carter hurrying down the wharf. He began to talk as soon as he got within earshot.

"Dreadful sorry," he said, breathlessly. "But I have been ordered back at once to my command. I have to go. But if I can get away again I will let you know it."

"It doesn't look as if we were going to have any fighting here," said George. "What is the hurry?"

"Oh yes, we will!" returned Carter. "But General Howe does not believe in forcing matters. Good-by. You'll be an officer soon, I'll warrant, and then we will not have to take so much trouble to spend a day together. I wish—"

He broke off suddenly, turned, and walked away. George was about to follow, when he saw two officers, one in a general's uniform, approaching. He drew himself