He crimsoned and shook his head. I knew he had been without money when we fought the battle of Valcour Island. Now he had good clothes; and to have spent a winter in Quebec he must have had money: he must have had a place to sleep … I tried to keep my thoughts away from Marie de Sabrevois. I must take this easy, I told myself. Morally Nathaniel was in a mess, and that’s something any man may get into at some time in his life.

“I suppose,” I said, “you’ve seen Burgoyne and talked with him.”

“Oh yes! You see, he’d offered to let Marie travel to Albany with the army, so she persuaded him to let me go along as well.”

“I see,” I said, “I see. Of course, I don’t know what’s been going on all winter, but there’s one bad side to being Burgoyne’s guest, Nathaniel. Anybody who finds out about it is liable to misunderstand your position—–”

“Who’s going to misunderstand it?” he interrupted. “I haven’t been able to write home—nobody knows but what I’m dead, any more than they know about you—and after Burgoyne’s marched down the Hudson, there won’t be anybody left whose wrong opinion makes any difference.”

He took me eagerly by the arm; then snatched his hand away to stare at the greasy black smears on his fingers.

“Yes,” I said, “but suppose he doesn’t!”

“Doesn’t what?”

“Doesn’t march down the Hudson!”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Nathaniel said. “It’s all over! For God’s sake, don’t go running your head into a noose, just at the eleventh hour! Remember we’ve got others besides ourselves to think about!”

“Surely,” I protested, “surely it’s not all over! Nothing’s over till the last gun’s fired!”

“I tell you it’s all over!” Nathaniel insisted. “There never was any such crew of lunatics as this Congress that’s been trying to run things for the Colonies. Do you know how many men they’ve got at Ticonderoga? Thirty-five hundred! Not a quarter enough! Do you know who they’ve got in command there? St. Clair, a turncoat British officer: one of the stupidest numbskulls that ever lived!”

“Why, that’s not possible!” I said. “St. Clair was nothing but a colonel last June, at Sorel, and only a fair one.”

Nathaniel laughed. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! This Congress of ours is crazy!”

“There must be some mistake,” I said. “Somebody must have misinformed you. Nobody’d be so foolish as to leave a garrison of only thirty-five hundred men in Ticonderoga, with Burgoyne getting ready to attack!”

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders. “It’s what Congress has done. They didn’t think Burgoyne would attack. They heard he was going to sail around to New York from Quebec, and they believed it!”