“I thought you ’d scarcely come into the stall, and hoped to get away undiscovered.”

“But what are you—­I thought you were across—­How did you get here?”

“I had business to the northward,” explained the officer, “and meant to have been in Bound Brook by this time.  But the cursed snow came on, and, not having travelled the westerly roads, I thought best to keep to those with which I was familiar, though knowing full well that I ran the risk of landing in the arms of the British.  Fortunately their troops are no fonder of facing our American weather than our American riflemen, and tucked themselves within doors, leaving it to us—­” There the aide checked his flow of words.

“But why did you come here?”

Brereton laughed.  “Does not a runaway servant always turn horse thief?  My mare has covered near forty miles to-day, the last ten of it in the face of this storm, and so I left her at the Van Meter barn, and thought to borrow Joggles to ride on to Morristown to do the rest.”  Colonel Brereton’s hand, which had continued on the girl’s arm, relaxed its firm hold, and slipped down till it held her fingers.  “And then, I—­I wanted word of you, for the stories of Hessian doings that come to us are enough to make any man anxious.”  Janice felt his lips on her hand.  “All is well with you?” he asked eagerly, after the caress.

Janice, forgetful of her recent woe, answered in the affirmative, as she tried to draw herself away.  Her attempt only led to the man’s hand on hers tightening its grip.  “I can’t let you go, Miss Janice, till you give me your word not to speak of this meeting.  They could scarce catch me such a night, but my mission is too vital to take any risks.”

“I promise,” acceded Janice, readily.

Brereton let go her hand at once, and his fingers rattled the bit, as he hastily completed the buckling the girl’s entrance had interrupted.  “If I never return, you will claim your namesake, my mare, Miss Janice,” he suggested as he backed Joggles out of the stall.  “And treat her well, I beg you.  She’s the one thing that has any love for me.  God knows if I ever see her again.

Forgetting that Brereton could not see her, Janice nodded her head.  “You are going for good?” she asked.

“I fear for anything but that!  For good or bad, however, I must ride my thirty miles to-night.”

“Thirty miles!” cried Janice, with a shiver.  “And your hands are dreadfully cold, and your teeth chatter.”

“’T is only the chill of inaction after hard and hungry riding.  Ten minutes of cantering will set the blood jumping again.”

“Can’t you wait a moment while I get something for you to eat?” besought the girl.

“Bless you for the thought,” replied the aide, with a little husk in his voice.  “But my mission is too important to risk delay, much more the nearness of yon dragoons.”

“For what are you going?” questioned Janice.