CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT--_At the Council Fire_
The British, going from Philadelphia to New York, marched on a slightly curving route, while we, almost parallel with them, were advancing in a straight line; that is, they were the bent bow and we were its cord. Therefore we held the advantage, and it was obvious that we would overtake them. Great hopes began to rise among us. The British army was the larger, composed of regular troops, and far better armed than ours; but it had just given up the chief city of the colonies, and was in retreat. It was suffering from depression, while we were elated over the French alliance and the sudden and favorable turn of our fortunes. Many of us believed that a heavy blow, well directed, might now end the war. We heard, too, that it was General Washington's own hope, and it was my fortune to discover, through personal observation, that this was so.
It was several nights after my return with the gold. Our scouts had been engaged in some skirmishing with British outposts, and just as the evening fell, Marcel and I returned with a report of it. The weather was still intensely hot, and the men, terribly tired by forced marches in such a temperature, were lying on the ground with their faces to the sky that they might feel the first coolness of the evening. The cooks were preparing supper, and fires blazed here and there; but we were too languid to show much energy, and the camp was unusually quiet.
We made our report to the colonel; but he considered it of sufficient importance to be heard by the general-in-chief himself, and he directed me to take it to him.
"You will find him among the trees," he said, pointing to a small wood. Under the boughs of the largest tree, a fire was burning and over it swung a camp-kettle. Several men, sitting on logs in front of the fire, were talking earnestly, and now and then looking at a map. The one who held the map was large and straight-shouldered, and I knew the figure to be that of the general-in-chief. As I approached, I recognized, too, the swarthy face of Charles Lee, the foreigner who came to us with such an air of superior wisdom, and whom we put in high place, but whom the real soldiers already hated. Then I recognized Wayne, with his trim figure and fine frank eyes, Greene, the silent Rhode-Islander who afterward became so great, and others.