"General Washington should behave as handsomely as Sir William Howe," said Marcel, and I was quite sure that it was General Washington's duty to do so.
I acted as spokesman, and laid the case before our colonel, concealing nothing save my ride with Mary Desmond. He was a middle-aged man, amiable, and he liked us. In truth, both us had been fortunate enough to receive his praise for good service in action, but he could see no mitigating circumstances.
"There is nothing to do but report the case to the commander-in-chief," he said. "I am sorry, for I esteem you two boys, and you have been of value."
His solemn, even despondent tone depressed us. We began to feel afraid of the future and to wonder what General Washington would say to us. Our period of suspense was not long, as within two hours we were summoned to appear before the commander-in-chief.
An aide led us to his headquarters, a small square log-house such as frontiersmen build for themselves. A sentinel was watching at the door, but we passed in and stood before the general, who was alone writing at a table.
The aide withdrew to the further end of the room and left us standing there, watching the goose quill, held in the large muscular hand, as it travelled over the paper, writing perhaps the instructions for our own execution as deserters. I shall never forget the few minutes that we stood in that room hearing only the scratch of the quill on the paper. I have dreamed of them often, and have awakened to hear the rustle of the quill in my ears.
No one could feel frivolous or flippant in the presence of General Washington. The air was never very warm about him, and I have noticed that it is usually so with men of great mental powers and great responsibilities.
On went the goose quill. Scratch! Scratch! I hate the sound of a goose quill to this day. I looked at the silent aide, but his face gave no encouragement. I looked at Marcel, but he was looking at me for the same purpose, and neither was able to be a help to the other.
The general wiped the goose quill and put it away. Then he turned to us, and his face was as stern as any into which I ever looked. I saw no ray of mercy in those severe, blue eyes.
"Lieutenant Robert Chester?" he said to me. I bowed, and then Marcel bowed when his name, too, was called.