IN WHICH GEORGE PRENTISS RECEIVES AN INVITATION
Next morning George Prentiss made his way to General Putnam’s
headquarters at the foot of Broadway; and, as he went, there was at
first some doubt in his mind as to the kind of a report he should make.
He had undertaken readily enough the enterprise upon which he had
ridden the day before. The conspiring Tories were enemies to the cause
of liberty, and he felt no qualms in matching them in their own style
of work. But he had not reckoned on what had taken place. He had not
expected to find his cousin concerned in it. True, a soldier of the
colonies, who was so base as to betray the cause in order that he might
profit thereby, was infinitely worse than any Tory.
“He should receive no mercy,” George told himself with indignation.
“And any one having the cause at heart should be only too glad to hunt
him out and see him punished.”
But for all his realization of this, he felt no desire to pursue and
expose Herbert Camp.
However, he knew which way his duty lay; and so he determinedly tramped
into headquarters and asked to see General Putnam.
“Why,” cried the hearty old officer, “what now! I had no idea that I’d
see you for days.” Then noting an expression in the young man’s face
that was not easily read, he added: “Something has happened.”
“Quite a deal has happened,” returned George, “and I thought it best
that I make a report to you at once.”
“Out with it,” invited Putnam. “I can see that it is a matter of
interest; so lose no time.”
Thereupon George related his adventures of the night before; not a
detail escaped the telling, and the general listened with the greatest
interest.
“Why,” cried Putnam, when George had finally finished, “here’s a
surprising circumstance, indeed. And it would seem that the situation
is made to fit you as the coat upon your back. There is nothing for you
to do but to take up the scent that is plain before you; and within a
week, I warrant you, the solution of it all will be in your hands.”
But George shook his head.
“I’m afraid,” said he, slowly, “that I have no keenness for the work. I
felt bound in duty to report what I had seen and heard; but now I ask
to be relieved of the matter.”
The general stared at him for a moment in wide amazement. Then the
habitually jolly look upon his face died out, and one of coldness
replaced it.
“When once a soldier volunteers, it is considered that he is willing to
go on until he is directed to halt,” said he.
George lifted his head proudly.
“I, too, am perfectly willing to do that, general, if commanded. But
I felt that you were not only my officer but my friend; and that
if I told you there was something which made the duty personally
distasteful, you would release me from it.”
General Putnam regarded him earnestly for a moment; his face gradually
softened.
“You are right, my lad,” spoke he, “I am your friend. This duty, which
you have so far carried out smoothly and well, shows itself to be of
great importance; and it would be well for us if you could continue it.
To be sure, we could arrest young Camp and the merchant Dana at once
if need be; but there is still little or no convincing evidence, and
a thousand loopholes by which they might escape. The proof necessary
could be best secured by you; but if you feel a real repulsion to the
work--one that you cannot readily overcome--you may have your wish.”
“Thank you,” said George. “Anything else, general, and you may command
me to any length; but not in this.”
Again the general studied him; and then a light crossed his face.
“I think I see,” he said. “This young officer Camp--and his sister--are
somehow responsible for your change of front.”
“Yes,” replied George. “They are my cousins--son and daughter of my
mother’s sister.”
“I see, I see. And your desire to have no further hand in the thing
is perfectly natural. Ah, well, well--the world is a queer place,
indeed--a jumble of causes and desires--of hopes and dreads. But,” with
a wave of the hand, “that will be all now. I will replace you in this;
however, keep in touch with me--there may be something else in which
you may prove more ready.”
Again George saluted; and as he left headquarters he encountered Major
Hyde upon the sidewalk. Henderson bore him company; and from the
attitude of the two they were awaiting him.
“Well met, sir,” spoke Henderson with a friendly wave of the hand.
“This is my crony, Captain Henderson of Lowney’s City troops,” said
Major Hyde, indicating the fop.
“I have met the gentleman before,” answered George, coldly.
Hyde laughed, and exhibited more geniality of manner than George would
have given him credit for.
“Oh, come now,” said he. “Don’t bear any hard feelings. Give us both a
hand, and let us make a fresh beginning.”
“’Pon my soul!” ejaculated the dragoon. “I no more took you the other
day for what you are, than I’d have taken you for the man in the moon.”
He grasped the young New Englander’s reluctant hand and shook it
effusively. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
Hyde also shook his hand, but with more moderation.
“General Putnam gave us some hint of your service,” said he, “and I beg
your pardon for any shortness of manner that I may have used toward
you. You see, every day there are persons introducing themselves at
headquarters who have nothing but presumption to back them up.”
“And,” said George, nettled, “you took me for one of those, then. Why,
thank you,” with a bow; “it was extremely good of you.”
Hyde laughed and clapped him upon the back.
George resented the slap upon the back; he was not the sort who took
kindly to any form of familiarity upon short acquaintance. But these
men were enlisted in the same cause; and he felt it his place to be on
a good footing with them. So the only way his anger manifested itself
was in his stepping out of reach of both, and drawing himself stiffly
erect.
But Hyde did not appear to notice his manner. “You are quartered at the
‘King’s Arms’ still, I think,” said he.
George nodded.
“It’s a very good place, as such places go,” said Hyde. “But it is apt
to stale after a little time spent in it.” He regarded the young New
Englander in a most kindly fashion. “Do you intend making any stay in
New York?”
“My orders were to put myself under the directions of General Putnam
until such time as the commander-in-chief arrived.”
Hyde seemed quite delighted at this. As for Henderson, he slapped his
thigh.
“Now, there is luck!” cried he. “I told you, major, that something of
the kind must be so. And he’ll be just the fellow for us.”
But Major Hyde motioned for him to be quiet.
“Don’t be quite so ready,” said he. “Perhaps Mr. Prentiss has plans of
his own.”
He then turned to George once more.
“You see,” said he, “some of us have grown tired of tavern fare and
tavern company; and we have engaged a house in Wall Street, ready
furnished and with a black fellow as cook----”
“And such talent!” interrupted the young dragoon, who evidently loved
fine food almost as well as he did fine clothes. “Never was there such
a cook before. In his hands even so common an article as a joint of
beef becomes a thing almost ethereal.”
“I will not go quite so far as that,” laughed the major, “but I will
say that we are circumstanced most comfortably. There are four of us,
and there is room for one more. Henderson and I have discussed the
matter and made up our minds that we owe you something to make amends
for a rather boorish greeting the other day. We’d be pleased to have
you join us in this venture, and can assure you of greater convenience
than you’ll get at an inn.”
But George shook his head.
“It will be but a few days, now,” said he, “before the main body of the
army arrives; and my employment will then be such that I’ll not know
from one day to another where I shall be. Another thing, I have some
close friends with the Massachusetts troops; and shall quarter with
them at such times as I shall be disengaged.”
“Oh, see here now,” said the foppish dragoon, “this is most unforgiving
of you, ’pon my soul it is.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Hyde, whose disappointment was better tempered,
but equally keen. “We had all but counted upon you.” He studied George
for a moment, and then added: “But you can come and dine with us now
and then, can you not? We shall be pleased to see you at any time.”
At any other time George might have consented to accept their
hospitality out of sheer good nature. But now he somehow instinctively
drew back. It may have been that his first impression of the two men
was still strong upon him; or it may have been something else. He did
not, however, pause to work it out; but with a bow and a polite wave of
the hand, he said:
“You are very kind. Some other time, perhaps; but not to-night.”
And with that he swung along up Broadway, leaving them standing gazing
after him.