“By God,” Cap said, as Konrad brought the cup to me, “I dunno what people want to do so much hollering against these Hessians for! I’d ruther have one belong to me than a ox or a steer, any day. I’ll bet if people in this country ever get to understanding these Hessians’s ways, and how smart and attached they are if you encourage ’em, everybody’d want one or two. In the first place, they learn quicker’n a tame crow, and you can call ’em anything you want to—you can even take and call ’em names you wouldn’t like to call a crow, because of course they don’t understand you. It’s a mighty nice relief, sometimes, to call a man a whole lot of horrible names without having to fight about it. Yes sir, these here Hessians are useful!”

“When’ll Nason be back?” I asked him.

“I dunno,” he said carelessly. “Prob’ly he won’t be back till it’s about time for us to go gunning for pickets.” He looked up at the heavy sky. “This’ll be a nice night for picket-shooting—good’n dark, and not too wet. We ought to get us a picket apiece, a night like this.”

I found his reference to pickets puzzling. “How can you—–”

Cap laid his hand on my arm. “Listen, I want to tell you what I told all the rest of our people. When we have another battle, keep your eyes open for a she-Hessian. Maybe you’ll come across one when we go picket-shooting. If you do, don’t let her get hurt: bring her back, so’s I can go into the business of breeding ’em when the campaign’s over.”

I tried to speak, but he crowded closer to me and breathed heavily. “You ought to hear the stuff he’s learned. He’s smart! He speaks pieces for us regular. Soon’s we get Yankee Doodle taught to him, he’ll be as good an American, pretty near, as anyone there is. I dunno but what he’s better than a lot of these New York folks, right now. Konrad, he thinks the whole of America’s a pretty good place; but a lot of these New Yorkers, they think there ain’t no place in America worth a damn, outside of New York.”

He turned sharply to Konrad and shouted, “Sprick English!”