It was then that I halted the column, facing them, rifle resting across my saddle-bow.
"Men of New York," I said, "the enemy are on the Sacandaga."
Intense silence fell over the ranks.
"If there be one rifleman here who is too weary to enter Johnstown before daylight, let him fall out."
Not a man stirred.
"Very well," I said, laughing; "if you Tryon County men are so keen for battle, there's a dish o' glory to be served up, hot as sugar and soupaan, among the Mayfield hills. Come on, Men of New York!"
And I think they must have wondered there in Schenectady at the fierce cheering of Morgan's men as our column wheeled northwest once more, into the coming night.
* * * * * We entered Johnstown an hour before dawn, not a man limping, nor a horse either, for that matter. An officer from Colonel Willett met us, directing the men and the baggage to the fort which was formerly the stone jail, the Oneidas to huts erected on the old camping-ground west of Johnson Hall, and Elsin and me to quarters at Jimmy Burke's Tavern. She was already half-asleep in her saddle, yet ever ready to rouse herself for a new effort; and now she raised her drowsy head with a confused smile as I lifted her from the horse to the porch of Burke's celebrated frontier inn.
"Colonel Willett's compliments, and he will breakfast with you at ten," whispered the young officer. "Good night, sir."
"Good night," I nodded, and entered the tavern, bearing Elsin in my arms, now fast asleep as a worn-out child.