cupation, but although the man occasionally moaned he still gave no signs of returning consciousness. A whinny of his horse caused Robert to rise hastily and dart out into the open space, but as he was unable to perceive any cause of the horse's uneasiness he soon returned to his place in the bushes.
He was puzzled now to know what to do. The man evidently was a stranger to him, but common humanity demanded that he should not be left in such a plight. Still Robert Dorlon recalled the words of General Clinton, that "he was not to be knight-errant," and that the lives of many men as well as the successful execution of the plans of the leaders of the army demanded that he should make all haste on his return to the camp in New Jersey.
Moved by a sudden impulse, Robert began to search the pockets of the man before him, though he had no other purpose in mind than to discover, if possible, who he might be, and if he belonged in the immediate region, to send some one to his aid. Throwing back the coat of the man, he drew from his inside pocket a letter which, feeling at liberty to open, he at once began to read.
A low whistle escaped his lips as he read, and in a moment he was aware that he had
