The Sun of Saratoga: A Romance of Burgoyne's Surrender — Edition Insights

“You will watch this hollow and the hill yonder,” said the general, “and see that not a soul passes either to the north or to the south. Don’t forget that the fate of all the colonies may depend upon your vigilance.”

I felt much discomfort. I submit that it is not cheering to have the fate of thirteen large colonies and some two or three million people, men, women, and children, depend upon one’s own humble self. I like importance, but not when it brings such an excess of care.

I looked to Sergeant Whitestone for cheer.

“We are not the only men on watch to cut off their messengers,” he said. “We have our bit of ground here to guard, and others have theirs.”

Then he sat down on the turf and smoked his pipe with provoking calm, as if the troubles of other people were sufficient to take our own away. I decided to stop thinking about failure and address myself to my task. Leaving the sergeant and the four men who constituted my small army, I took a look about me. The hollow was but a few hundred yards across, sparse-set with trees and bushes. It should not be difficult to guard it by day, but by night it would be a different matter. On the hill I could see the walls and roof of the Van Auken house. That, too, fell within my territory, and for reasons sufficient to me I was sorry of it.

I walked part of the way up the hillside, spying out the ground and seeing what places for concealment there might be. I did not mean to be lax in my duty in any particular. I appreciated its full import. The great idea that we might take Burgoyne and his whole army was spreading among us, and it was vital that no news of his plight should reach Clinton and the other British down below us.

I came back to Sergeant Whitestone, who was still sitting on the ground, puffing out much smoke, and looking very content.

“I don’t think we need fear any attempt to get through until night,” he said. “The dark is the time for messengers who don’t want to be seen.”

I agreed with him, and found a position of comfort upon the grass.

“There’s our weak point,” said the sergeant, waving his hand toward the Van Auken house.

I was sorry to hear him say so, especially as I had formed the same opinion.

“But there’s nobody up there except women,” I said.

“The very reason,” replied the sergeant.

I occupied myself for a little while tossing pebbles at a tree. Then I disposed my men at suitable distances along our line, and concluded to go up to the house, which going, in good truth, was part of my duty.

I was near the top of the hill when I saw Kate Van Auken coming to meet me.

“Good morning, Dick,” she said.

“Good morning, Mistress Catherine,” I replied.

It had been my habit to call her Kate when we were children together, but I could not quite manage it now.

“You are set as a guard upon us?” she said.

“To protect you from harm,” I replied with my most gallant air.

“Your manners are improving,” she said in what I thought rather a disdainful tone.

“I must search the house,” I continued.

“You call that protecting us?” she said with the same touch of sarcasm.

“Nevertheless it must be done,” I said, speaking in my most positive manner.

She led the way without further demur. Now I had every confidence in Kate Van Auken. I considered her as good a patriot as myself, though all her family were Tory. It did not seem to me to be at all likely that any spy or messenger of the British had reached the concealment of the house, but it was my duty to be sure.

“Perhaps you would not care to talk to my mother?” she asked.

“No!” I replied in such haste that she laughed.