red. We were in Schenectady at last.

As we wheeled up the main street of the town, marching in close column
between double lines of anxious townsfolk, a staff-officer, wearing the
uniform of the New York line, came clattering down the street from the
Queen's Fort, and drew bridle in front of me with a sharp, precise
salute.

"Captain Renault?" he asked.

I nodded, returning his salute.

"Colonel Gansvoort's compliments, and you are directed to report to
Colonel Willett at Butlersbury without losing an hour."

"That means an all-night march," I said bluntly.

"Yes, sir." He lowered his voice: "The enemy are on the Sacandaga."

I stiffened in my stirrups. "Tell Colonel Gansvoort it shall be done,
sir." And I wheeled my horse, raising my rifle: "Attention!--to the
left--dress! Right about face! By sections of four--to the
right--wheel--March! ... Halt! Front--dress! Trail--arms! March!"

The veterans of Morgan, like trained troop-horses, had executed the
maneuvers before they realized what was happening. They were the first
formal orders I had given. I myself did not know how the orders might
be obeyed until all was over and we were marching out of the Orange
Gate once more, and swinging northward, wagons, bat-horses, and men in
splendid alignment, and the Oneidas trotting ahead like a pack of
foxhounds under master and whip. But I had to do with irregulars; I
understood that. Already astonished and inquiring glances shot upward
at me as I rode with Elsin; already I heard a low whispering among the
men. But I waited. Then, as we turned the hill, a cannon on the Queen's
Fort boomed good-by and Godspeed!--and our conch-horn sounded a long,
melancholy farewell.

It was then that I halted the column, facing them, rifle resting across
my saddle-bow.

"Men of New York," I said, "the enemy are on the Sacandaga."

Intense silence fell over the ranks.

"If there be one rifleman here who is too weary to enter Johnstown
before daylight, let him fall out."

Not a man stirred.

"Very well," I said, laughing; "if you Tryon County men are so keen for
battle, there's a dish o' glory to be served up, hot as sugar and
soupaan, among the Mayfield hills. Come on, Men of New York!"

And I think they must have wondered there in Schenectady at the fierce
cheering of Morgan's men as our column wheeled northwest once more,
into the coming night.

* * * * *

We entered Johnstown an hou