were nowhere to be seen, and
preparations were made to take in such of the wounded as could be
moved.

At this moment Wharton Dunwoodie, impelled by affection for his
friend, seized a lighted fusee,[142] and taking two of his men, went
himself in quest of his body, where he was supposed to have fallen.

[Footnote 142: torch.]

Mason was found on the side of the hill, seated with great composure,
but unable to walk from a fractured leg. Dunwoodie saw and flew to the
side of his comrade, exclaiming:

"Ah! dear Tom, I knew I should find you the nearest man to the enemy."

"Softly, softly; handle me tenderly," replied the lieutenant. "No;
there is a brave fellow still nearer than myself, and who he can be I
know not. He rushed out of our smoke, near my platoon, to make a
prisoner or some such thing, but, poor fellow, he never came back;
there he lies just over the hillock. I have spoken to him several
times, but I fancy he is past answering."

Dunwoodie went to the spot, and to his astonishment beheld the
stranger.

"It is the old man who knew my father and mother," cried the youth;
"for their sake he shall have honorable burial. Lift him, and let him
be carried in; his bones shall rest on native soil."

The men approached to obey. He was lying on his back, with his face
exposed to the glaring light of the fusee; his eyes were closed, as if
in slumber; his lips, sunken with years, were slightly moved from
their position, but it seemed more like a smile than a convulsion
which had caused the change. A soldier's musket lay near him; his
hands were pressed upon his breast, and one of them contained a
substance that glittered like silver. Dunwoodie stooped, and moving
the limbs, perceived the place where the bullet had found a passage to
his heart. The subject of his last care was a tin box, through which
the fatal lead had gone; and the dying moments of the old man must
have been passed in drawing it from his bosom. Dunwoodie opened it,
and found a paper in which, to his astonishment, he read the
following:

"Circumstances of political importance, which involve the
lives and fortunes of many, have hitherto kept secret what
this paper now reveals. Harvey Birch has for years been a
faithful and unrequited[143] servant of his country. Though
man does not, may God reward him for his conduct!

"GEO. WASHINGTON."

[Footnote 143: unrewarded.]

It was the SPY OF