“Yes,” Nason said, “you can have all of ’em if you’ll do a little something for us in return—if you’ll find us some barges, so we can load those timbers and get ’em to Skenesboro tomorrow for General Arnold.”

When Whitcomb was silent, Nason added, “All these men here, they’re scouts for Arnold. It’s all regular and above board, only if we wait to get boats through ordinary channels, we may lose a week.”

Whitcomb turned to look at the piles of lumber, which showed clearly in the light of the fire beside which sat Cap Huff and Doc Means, taking alternate sips from a tin dipper. “Barges?” Whitcomb asked. “You want to get those timbers to Skenesboro on barges?”

Longboats, I reminded Nason, would do as well.

Whitcomb nodded. “I’ll get ’em for you. When things get a little quieter, I know where I can pick up all the boats you need.” Hopefully he added, “I aim to be a scout myself. I aim to scout around and get me one of those German soldiers—the kind that’s all weighted down with cutlery so’s he can only march two miles an hour.” He looked so helpless that we felt sorry for him.

We took him to our fire, where Cap Huff and Doc Means, in a singular silence, removed the ramrods from over the coals and set our supper before us. The eels were juicy, having been cooked slowly, as should always be the case.

Nason picked up Cap’s tin cup, filled it from the mixture in the kettle and gave it to Whitcomb. Then he filled his own cup, and so did the rest of us.

Cap watched us closely as we drank. “What you think of that?” he demanded.

“ ’Tisn’t bad,” Nason said. “What’s in it?”

“Thittles,” Cap told him. He hiccupped and tried again. “Thithlsh.” He dismissed the matter with an airy wave of his huge hand. “Now look here, Stevie, wha’s use going to Skenesboro? Doc’n I been talking, ’n’ here’s what we think. Le’s g’w’up to Eel Ox Nox tonight, juss us, ’n’ have a meeting of the Eel Ox Nox Club. Doc, he’s been elected, and everybody here can be members.” He hiccupped, focussing his eyes on Whitcomb. “O’ course, we dunno about this frien’ of yours, this gellaman here.”

Verrieul interrupted Cap’s maunderings. “Make him a non-resident member.”

“Tha’s juss what we’ll do!” Cap cried. “Make him a non-resonant member!” To Nason he added enthusiastically: “After we hold our meeting, Stevie, we wouldn’t need to build a lot of row-galleys or nothin’. Save lot of work, Stevie, and be great help to Arnold.” He leaned back proudly and surveyed us with a triumphant leer.

“I don’t follow you,” Nason said. “Arnold’s orders were—–”