Shamus O’Moore took his young master’s horse and his own to a neighboring stable where they were in the habit of putting them up, and then returned to the state house. Ethan was busy with a huge portfolio of Mr. Jefferson’s papers in a small room at the south end; from the hall came the murmur of voices and now and then a steady flow of words which showed that some member was addressing the Congress.
“They do be after talking it over, Master Ethan,” said the ex-dragoon. “And it’s mighty glad they all are.”
“And no wonder,” said Ethan Carlyle, looking up from his work with a smile. “A victory now means a great deal. Defeat has followed defeat so closely, Shamus, that they, in spite of their hopeful front, began to despair of ever seeing success crown the American arms.”
“Well, they’ve got a murderin’ big slice of success this time,” said the Irish soldier, with great satisfaction. “And it’s pleased I am at that same; for every true son of Erin, Master Ethan, wants to see the Saxon beat.”
Ethan laughed, and there was a twinkle in his eye as he remarked:
“Why, if you dislike the British so, you old fire eater, how came you to be so taken with my poor dead father? He was an Englishman.”
The old dragoon scratched his head in a rather awkward fashion, and then made reply:
“Your father was the finest gentleman I ever saw, and it was no fault of his that he was an Englishman. Sure no man can choose the country he’s to first see the light in. But he showed his quality when he resigned from the English army and came to America. If he were alive and able to hold a sword and head a regiment to-day, he’d be in the thick of it for freedom and the new land, so he would.”
There came a dimness to the boy’s eyes and he patted the old trooper upon the back.
“You cared a very great deal for my father, didn’t you, Longsword?”
“I did,” said the other steadily, looking straight before him with unwinking eyes, “and I think as much of your father’s son, faith.”
“I know that, old friend. You’ve been with me through everything. You even gave up your hopes of meeting the British in battle to be with me here in Philadelphia.”
“It was a hard wrench,” spoke Shamus, a note of regret in his voice, “but the war is not over, Master Ethan, and I have hopes that we two will see service yet.”