services balance. That unfortunate affair of Jenny McCrea has raised public feeling against us to a fearful extent, and now, when they might be most useful, they are frightened to death, and deserting, because of some masquerading rebel, who plays tricks on them with raw-head-and-bloody-bones apparitions. Have the soldiers heard of the panic, baron?”

[Pg 42]

[Pg 42]

“I regret to say, General, that our own outposts are catching the infection, since the Indian chief, Creeping Wolf, was killed in sight of our pickets. The man or demon, whichever it be, seemed to laugh at their bullets, and disappeared, so they say, in a blaze of red flame.”

“Bah!” said Burgoyne, contemptuously, “’tis some conjuring trick. It can not be possible that our men are so foolish as to fear it. I must see that the rounds keep them awake. The fellows grow lazy, and dream. I shall visit the pickets myself to-night.”

Baron Reidesel brightened.

“The very thing, General. If we keep up their spirits, they will recover. I only hope we can gain the Indians back.”

“There is only one way, that I see, baron. We must catch this fellow who disturbs us, and hang him. Doubtless it is some rebel spy. One good thing. St. Leger sends me word that Fort Schuyler must soon surrender, and that will encourage the waverers. Then, Baum’s dragoons must be at Bennington by this time. Let them bring us provisions, and I’ll make short work of Schuyler’s militia. Go and ask General Fraser, and Philips, and the rest, to come with us, baron. I’ll be ready in five minutes, and will make a grand round of all the outposts.”

“Very good, General,” was the reply, as the baron saluted and left the apartment, while Burgoyne, mechanically putting on his sword, stood by the fire, moodily cogitating.

He was roused from his reverie by a slight noise in the room, and looking, started in amazement.

A man of wonderful hight, but gaunt as a skeleton, stood within six feet of him, looking at him out of great cavernous eyes, that glared from the midst of a deadly pale face. The man was muffled in a long black cloak, and his face was shadowed by a broad slouched hat. He stood regarding Burgoyne in silence.

“Who the devil are you, sir?” asked the General, angrily, as soon as he had recovered his first shock.

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