Not until the main army itself had begun to come ashore was I able to get a boat, and that a slow one: a small gundelo, slower even than a bateau. The important thing, however, was that she floated; and once I had my hands on her, I lost no time getting her down to our camp.

I found Ellen on her knees at the lake rim, washing clothes by rubbing them with ashes and slapping them against a rock.

When she looked up and saw me, she slapped the rock even harder. She hadn’t forgiven me, I realized, so I turned from her to Nathaniel, who was writing a letter in the shade of the near-by tent. So absorbed was he in his task that my voice startled him into covering his letter with his hand. I overlooked this movement of his, and spoke casually.

“I’ve got a boat at last, Nathaniel! We’ll give her a light load; and you and Ellen and Zelph can be on your way to Skenesboro in an hour. You and Zelph can row and Ellen can steer.”

Ellen stopped her washing. “I think you forget,” she said coldly. “I’m waiting for a chance to go to Albany. Your brother has been trying to arrange that for me.”

I shook my head. “He hasn’t succeeded, Ellen. Country that’s the very heart of a war campaign doesn’t offer many chances for a young girl to travel safely. My brother and I are responsible for your—–”

“You?” she interrupted. “No—only your brother. You have no responsibility for my safety, and I ask you not to concern yourself with it.”

“I do, though,” I said. “What’s more, Nathaniel knows, just as I do, that it’s folly for you to talk of going to Albany until either he or I can take you, or we can put you in charge of someone we know as well as we know ourselves. Until that happens, you’ll have to stay with us, and we’re going to Skenesboro, so you’ll have to go there too.”

“Skenesboro?” she repeated, and her expression became haughty. “I shall not go to any such place!”

“Why not? What do you know about Skenesboro?”

“Nothing. I never heard of it, but I’m glad you’re going there, because I’m going to stay here. Do you understand I’m going to stay here?”

I tried gentleness. “I thought you were going to Albany.”

“Yes, certainly, in a little while; but first I’m going to stay here as long as I think proper.”

Nathaniel folded his letter and spoke impatiently. “You may as well let her alone; I’ve found you can’t argue with her. The truth is that since you came here, she’s harder to get along with than ever. She wants to be rid of both of us and free of our care of her.”