The boys halted and dismounted; after a moment’s discussion it was decided that Ezra should seek admittance to the officers’ presence alone, as he could best tell of what had happened. So the others seated themselves upon the grass in full view of the window, while the young New Englander approached the sentries and announced himself. After some hesitation one of them went into the house as though to seek the commands of a superior.
Scarlett’s searching eyes watched the three about the table; every movement, every lineament, so it seemed, came under his observation.
“And so these are more of your leaders,” said he to Nat. “Tell me now, which of them is General Ward?”
“The one directly facing us,” replied Nat, pointing to the general in command. “He is a safe leader, and that’s saying the least of him. The only fault that could be charged against him is that his health is bad, which might affect his enterprise. He was once a justice of the peace; also he served with the British commander, Abercrombie, against the French and Indians. He was a lieutenant.”
Scarlett plainly had no exalted opinion of General Ward as an officer; but he made no comment.
“This other, now,” he said, “this thick-set man with the full red face and the whitening hair. Which is he?”
“That,” said Nat, “is General Putnam. He is considered to be, and I think justly, one of the most remarkable military characters of this time. For years he led the quiet life of a country gentleman on a beautiful farm at Brooklyn in Connecticut. He was noted but for one exploit; and that was the killing of a she-wolf which had become the terror of the countryside. As no one had been able to destroy the beast, Putnam had himself lowered into its den, and shot it to death as it sprang at his throat.
“When the French invaded northern New York, he took up arms and, with the provincial army, marched to repulse them. Ten years of his life were spent in that and Indian warfare. Once he was taken at Wood Creek by the Indians, who determined to burn him, and were about applying the torch at his feet when a French captain of the name of Molang arrived and saved his life. He won the rank of colonel in the provincial army and was with General Lyman in the West Indies, serving at the fall of Havana. After that he went back to his estate, where he remained until the alarm went out to the Sons of Liberty some two months ago.”