the silence.

"The boys in the gulch? Jersey militiamen," he explained shortly. "You
see there's some of us that can't get away all the time, because of the
women and children, and the farm work. Besides, regular soldiering don't
just appeal to our sort. So we do our fighting round home in our own way.
However, the most of us manage to have a hand in the real thing once in a
while even at that. We were over at Germantown, and down at Brandywine.
Farrell's got a commission, but the rest of us are taking our chances.
It's neighbor against neighbor. Whatever we've got left has been held at
the point of the rifle. We're doing our share in this war, an' Washington
knows it. Over there to the east 'Red' Fagin, Old Man Kelly, an' their
gangs of Pine Robbers, are making the fields red; sometimes they get down
this far raiding the farms, but mostly, we're fighting foragers out of
Philadelphia, and they're not much better. Half the houses in this
country have been burned, and mercy isn't very common on either side.
Those lads yonder are not pretty soldiers to look at, but they're wolves
to fight, and hungry for it."

"They are called on whenever Farrell wishes?"

"Well, yes; those come who can. They're not always the same bunch. You
see Farrell covers quite a bit of country, with a lieutenant in each
section who is in touch with the neighbors there. I belong in Camden, and
don't go outside very often, but there is a sort of organization all the
way between here and New York. Whenever there is a big fight on, the most
of us get into it somehow. Washington counts on us in a pinch, but mostly
we're raiding or cutting off British supplies. Say, Major, isn't that
those fellows coming?"