As he spoke the carter tossed the letter to Ben, who deftly caught it; then he went on:

“I stopped there to get some things which came in on the Baltimore coach for Mr. Pendergast, above here. There’s a lot of Massachusetts Bay people stopping there; and one young fellow comes up to me:

“‘I hear you carry goods up Germantown way,’ says he.

“‘I do,’ says I.

“‘Do you know the Cooper place?’ says he.

“‘As well as I do my own,’ I says.

“‘Here’s a letter then,’ he says. ‘And I’d like it delivered with despatch.’

“And with that he gives me a half crown and the message, and tells me to keep the one and give you the other.” The carter grinned across at Ben good humoredly and added: “Anything you want carried toward Whitemarsh?”

“I think not, Tom,” replied Ben.

“Good-day to you,” said the man. He tightened the reins; the wiry little horses[23] sprang forward against their collars and the cart went whirling away in a cloud of dust.

[23]

All the time the man was speaking Ben Cooper’s face wore an expression of astonished impatience. The astonishment was caused by a glance at the handwriting upon the letter, the impatience by the carter’s monologue. But now that the man had gone, the lad broke the seal and his eyes ran over the few lines of writing which the sheet contained. Then he turned and dashed back toward the spot where he had left Nat.

“You’ll never guess what it is,” cried he, breathlessly. Then, without pausing for a reply, he added, “Ezra Prentiss, of whom I’ve told you so much, is in Philadelphia.”

“In Philadelphia?” echoed Nat.

“Listen to what he says.” Unfolding the letter, Ben read:

“City Tavern, Aug. 23.

“My dear Ben:—

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