Involuntarily I looked at Cap Huff. Arnold followed my gaze, then glanced at the sentries outside Schuyler’s tent: at the militiamen and officers who had gathered silently to stare at him. He shrugged his shoulders. “All right! That’s too bad: too bad! Fortunes of war! Fortunes of war! Come along to my tent, all of you. I want to put you to work!”

He turned and went swinging toward the opposite side of the fort. His limp was scarcely noticeable. He had a prowling sort of gait, his chin thrust forward and his arms swinging, almost as though he made his way up a bothersome hillslope.

His tent was an old one, of reddish sailcloth, but a Negro servant had made it neat and comfortable. Arnold had no aides with him. I think he had ridden lickety split from Philadelphia, stopping for nothing, and bringing only his servant to ride his extra horse and cook his food.

“Now,” he said, when he had slid into his camp chair, “sit yourselves down along that side-wall, and let’s see where we are.” He ordered his servant to stand guard outside. Then, as he unlocked his field-desk and opened it on the table before him, he flung questions at us until I was put in mind of a rainspout gushing water in a squall. He wanted to know everything: where the Indians had taken us; how many there were; how we had contrived to get away; what their leaders were like; what their country was like; what sort of goods they took in trade; who the traders were in the Indian country, and whether they had become wealthy through trading with the Indians. We had to tell him everything we had noticed about St. Leger’s forces; and when Doc said, as he had to Schuyler, that St. Leger’s Indians were a lousy lot, and that with the proper medical supplies he could scare them into running three times around Lake Superior, Arnold wanted to know all about it. He questioned us and questioned us upon the retreat from Ticonderoga—wanted to know the date when the British had first been seen on Mount Defiance; asked when we had got orders to move, and how the retreat had been conducted. He laughed sourly when I told him how slowly the vessels had moved down to Skenesboro; how nothing had been done to fortify the narrow bends in the lake; how I had been obliged to serve under Kidder, who had been a mate last year, when I captained the Congress galley.

“Yes,” he said, “I know. All our enemies aren’t under English colors. The bulk of ’em are closer than that! Much, much closer!”