up at attention as they passed by.

"There's a big difference between a stripe on your arm and an epaulet on your shoulder," he said, half aloud. "I'm beginning to find that out."

Three or four weeks more of weary drilling without any excitement followed. Sometimes it was work on the fortifications that kept the men employed, but always the ceaseless drill, drill; and August arrived without a movement hardly in the British forces down the bay.

One morning word came from Carter. It was brought to George by an orderly from headquarters.

"You are hereby ordered to report to Lieutenant Hewes at Stryker's wharf at nine to-morrow morning for special duty."

Strange to say, it was signed by Colonel Mason Hewes.

This time Carter was waiting.

"I had father make out that order," he said. "How did it answer?"

"Like a charm," returned George, shoving off the boat. "But I think Captain Clarkson understood, Mr. Lieutenant."

"Why shouldn't he?" said Carter. "In truth, I told him. Now rank is cast aside, and we are nothing but two lads out for a time. Get up that sail, you rebel!"

"Do you remember the time William and I called you that?" said George, laughing.

"Yes; and I remember when you both gave me a good thrashing, too," returned Carter. "Let's run down the bay to Brooklyn. I've brought along a spy-glass, and a good one. From the heights we can get a look at the British fleet."

It was a still, hot day, with a blue haze over the water to the southward. The boys in the little boat drifted rather than sailed about the Battery point.

"Now, to begin with," said George, as he seated himself in the stern-sheets beside Carter, who was steering, "how does it feel to be in battle? Tell me something of Bunker Hill."

"I was rather frightened at first, I take it," said Carter. "But I tell you it was grand to see the way they landed. Just across the river were the batteries on Copps Hill. The guns were firing at us, and the cannon-balls howled over our heads or threw up the sand all about us. I was in the earth-works, and off to one side stretched a line of rail fence; before it had been piled new-cut hay, making a breastwork like a great windrow. Behind it crouched our men in double line. When the 'redcoats' from the boats landed we could see the officers running up and down the lines, flourishing swords and shouting and pushing the men into place here and there. I tell you, George, they are brave men, no matter if we do call them 'tyrants.' They came up the hill with their drums beating, and were so close that we could hear their tramping, and ahead of them all was Howe. We fired into them. They went down like nine-pins, and some lay so close to us that we could hear the groaning. But talk of excitement! It was frightful. You seem to act without knowing what you do. Many of our greenhorns forgot to fire, and put in one load on top of the other. Did you know that men shout and scream in battle as if they were wild Indians? It's a strange sound, I can tell you. Probably you will hear it before long."

George had fairly shaken with excitement. It did not seem possible on this peaceful day that these scenes would be repeated, or that he could ever be in the midst of them.

"Let us go into this cove straight ahead; then we can tie up this leaky old tub and climb the hill," he said.

The two young soldiers jumped ashore as the keel grated, hauled up the boat, and went into the woods; when they reached the top of the incline they sat down and gazed around them.

The placid water below scarcely rippled, except where the tide seethed about the point of Governors Island; to the east of them stretched a beautiful country, but the heat had shrivelled the leaves of the trees, and the stretches of meadow-land were burnt bare and brown. Through the blue haze the towering masts and spars of the British vessels showed plainly rising against the hills.

"The Lord has been kind in sending us no wind," said Carter, "otherwise that fleet might be all about us here." He waved the large spy-glass, which he carried under his arm, in the direction of the lower bay. Then he adjusted it to his eye. "Those British must be hungry," he said, "for they've eaten every horse on Staten Island, I've heard tell. Have a look," he added, extending the glass. "I beg your pardon for taking the first squint."

George took it and levelled it across the water. The powerful lenses brought the ships as near as if they had been anchored close to shore. There lay one of the greatest fleets of vessels that had ever met together in the history of warfare, larger in numbers of men and armament than the Great Armada which Philip II. had sent against England—ships of the line, frigates, armed sloops, brigs, corvettes, and innumerable transports—thirty-seven men-of-war altogether, and four hundred other vessels loaded with troops; it was almost impossible to count them. Without the glass their hulls looked like a flock of gigantic wild fowl that had suddenly swooped down and covered the waters to the southward. Fully thirty-five thousand men were waiting there a chance to be landed to take the field against the nondescript army of the new-born country.

"The King has sent all the ships in England, I should judge," remarked George.

"And filled some of them with German soldiers at so much per head," said Carter.

As the two talked on a slight breeze sprang up. Two large vessels which were lying furthest up the bay blossomed out into clouds of canvas. Slowly they came up to their cables and tripped them neatly: flags flew, signals were made throughout the fleet.

"THEY'RE GOING TO MOVE!" EXCLAIMED CARTER, TAKING THE GLASS.

"By the Lord Harry, they're going to move!" exclaimed Carter, taking the glass from George's hands. "Those two boats are the Rose and Phœnix that sailed up the river in June, and only came down night before last."

"That's so," said George. "They let go their guns as they came down the river, and bowled over a few chimneys, I remember."

"We cannot prevent them going up the Hudson if it comes on to blow, and if they once reach the point of yonder island God help the city," responded Carter.

The lads had started on a run down the slope; the forces in New York must be informed of what was going on at all hazard.

If they had paused before they left the crest of the hill, however, they would have seen that the slight breeze had died away as quickly as it had arisen, that the great ships had dropped back with the tide, and that they had once more let go their anchors, and taken in their sails. The danger had passed by. But a heavy gray mist was creeping up from the south.

With some difficulty the boys shoved off the boat. The tide was on the ebb, and she had been left high and dry on the sand.

"There's not enough wind to sail. We will have to pull across," said Carter, getting out the oars. "Where did this fog come from, anyhow?"

A thick white wall was shutting in about them as their little boat danced out in the tide rips; the New York shore became more and more indistinct.

"Are we heading right?" inquired George, after they had rowed in silence for some time.

"I can't see a thing," answered Carter, who was handling the bow oar. "Hark, though! I hear the water against the rocks; we must be off the Battery. Now, a strong pull—together."

George laid all his strength in a tremendous heave; there was a sharp snap, and he went over backwards into the bottom: his oar had broken at the rowlock. At once all headway was lost, and they drifted helplessly.

"I still hear the water on the shore," said Carter. "Come, overboard! Let's swim for it!"

He took off his coat and shoes. George did the same; he