Capt. Febiger and I walked in silence back to Wolfe’s Tavern. As we stood in front, looking at the painted sign, he said, “All war is terrible but this one may be the strangest of all. It’s pitted old allies against one another, Tories against Patriots—even family members against each other. It is a most uncivil civil war.”

An hour later, shortly before sunset, Sgt. Cady arrived at Wolfe’s Tavern and summoned us back to duty. “Mr. Davenport asked me to inform you, one of his Sons of Liberty Trusted Couriers from Cambridge arrived a short while ago and advised that Captain Daniel Morgan’s Advance Force is crossing the ford on that stream flowing into the Merrimac. He wants to know if you want to greet him and lead them to the bivouac site we picked out.”

We both said together, “We will go.”

The Sergeant smiled and said, “I thought you would, so I brought your horses and my four men. May I suggest, we post one of my men in the room where the saddlebags are sequestered to guard the money and the rest of us will ride out to meet the Riflemen.”

As we grabbed our rifles, backpacks, and gear, Capt. Febiger said, “You are a wise man, Sergeant Cady.” As we proceeded out of port at a canter, I checked my pocket watch. It was precisely 7:00 p.m.

It took us just fifteen minutes before we sighted the van of the Advance Force column coming toward us. We were not surprised to see Capt. Morgan striding out in front of the long column. He greeted us with a smile and said, “We have a few stragglers—but none from Frederick County.”

We led them the last mile or so to the bivouac site we selected. After testing the light breeze with an upraised wet finger, Capt. Morgan picked a place along the tree line close to the farmhouse for his headquarters and a perimeter for our Rifle Company. He then pointed out to 1st Lt. Humphrey where the others should ground their gear, set up tents, post night guards, and dig sanitary pits.

While all he directed was being done, we had a few minutes to talk. I asked, “What time did you leave Cambridge this morning, sir?”

“General Gates said we couldn’t depart until this morning so we marched out at 1:00 a.m.”

I did the math in my head. Eighteen hours to walk thirty-one or so miles. Nearly two miles per hour. He added, “It’s much easier than our hike from Virginia. Pretty flat, good road. The wagons had a tough time getting across that ford a few miles back but they will be here soon. What have you learned?”