“No more of this,” he commanded.

It was all over in a moment.  The men were running toward their quarters.

“There is a wholesome regard here for the Commander-in-Chief,” Jack wrote to his mother.  “I look not upon his heroic figure without a thought of the great burden which rests upon it and a thrill of emotion.  There are many who fear him.  Most severely he will punish the man who neglects his duty, but how gentle and indulgent he can be, especially to a new recruit, until the latter has learned the game of war!  He is like a good father to these thousands of boys and young men.  No soldier can be flogged when he is near.  If he sees a fellow tied to the halberds, he will ask about his offense and order him to be taken down.  In camp his black servant, Bill, is always with him.  Out of camp he has an escort of light horse.  Morning and evening he holds divine service in his tent.  When a man does a brave act, the Chief summons him to headquarters and gives him a token of his appreciation.  I hope to be called one of these days.”

Soon after this letter was written, the young man was sent for.  He and his company had captured a number of men in a skirmish.

“Captain, you have done well,” said the General.  “I want to make a scout of you.  In our present circumstances it’s about the most important, dangerous and difficult work there is to be done here, especially the work which Solomon Binkus undertook to do.  There is no other in whom I should have so much confidence.”

“You do me great honor,” said Jack.  “I shall make a poor showing compared with that of my friend Major Binkus, but I have some knowledge of his methods and will do my best.”

“You will do well to imitate them with caution,” said the General.  “He was a most intrepid and astute observer.  In the bush they would not have captured him.  The clearings toward the sea make the work arduous and full of danger.  It is only for men of your strength and courage.  Major Bartlett knows the part of the line which Colonel Binkus traversed.  He will be going out that way to-morrow.  I should like you, sir, to go with him.  After one trip I shall be greatly pleased if you are capable of doing the work alone.”

Orders were delivered and Jack reported to Bartlett, an agreeable, middle-aged farmer-soldier, who had been on scout duty since July.  They left camp together next morning an hour before reveille.  They had an uneventful day, mostly in wooded flats and ridges, and from the latter looking across with a spy-glass into Bruteland, as they called the country held by the British, and seeing only, now and then, an enemy picket or distant camps.  About midday they sat down in a thicket together for a bite to eat and a whispered conference.

“Binkus, as you know, had his own way of scouting,” said the Major.  “He was an Indian fighter.  He liked to get inside the enemy lines and lie close an’ watch ’em an’ mebbe hear what they were talking about.  Now an’ then he would surprise a British sentinel and disarm him an’ bring him into camp.”