Cap sighed gustily. “Well, I s’pose I’ll have to let the damned old cry-baby have Grettle. I hate to do it, because every time we let him have Grettle near our bed-places, we all have fleas next morning.”

He went to the back of the lean-to and pulled at a chain. A raccoon, malevolent-looking in the firelight, was dragged protestingly from behind the bottom logs of the rear wall. “Here you are, Konrad,” Cap said wearily. “Here’s this pet flea-farm of yours.”

Konrad fell to his knees and gathered the raccoon in his arms. The small animal, a look of incredible craftiness on its masked features, paddled at Konrad’s chin with paws like small black hands; then pressed its pointed nose to the man’s neck.

As we crossed the ravine behind Nason, we could hear Konrad lavishing noisy kisses on Grettle.

“Listen to that!” Cap said wonderingly. “If I was as homesick as all that, I couldn’t get along with nothing so small as a raccoon! I’d want a tame bear, or maybe a moose.”

In spite of Cap’s pretended intolerance, I suspected that more than one of us had a fellow feeling for Konrad—especially if it was true, as Doc believed, that he feared he might never see anyone he loved, ever again.

LXIV

FOR two long weeks we were inundated by a flood of doubts, complaints and rumors; and so violent was the flood that there were some who feared the army might be washed away by it, and scattered to every quarter of the country, leaving the road free for Burgoyne to walk through to Albany.

Every night, during those two weeks, we, together with countless other scouting parties, stalked British pickets in the deep woods, pecking perpetually at them so that the army which they guarded might be kept awake and in constant fear of attack.

Each day we asked eagerly for news of Arnold—for Arnold hadn’t gone. He was with us still, but under circumstances more strange and outrageous, I truly believe, than ever were endured by any officer in the field. On the first moment when word had flashed through the camp that Gates had wronged Arnold, and that Arnold felt obliged to leave the army, such an uproar arose from all the regiments that their officers were obliged to take notice of it. The men said openly that they wanted Arnold; nor was this surprising, since Arnold had led men in more battles than had any other officer in the army, whereas Gates had never led a man in any battle at all. They applied opprobrious names to Gates, calling him General Back-house, the Old Woman, General Pussyfoot, the Old Gray Mare and others less delicate; and songs began to circulate—rude songs, highly uncomplimentary to Gates.