When George and his army had toiled hard for nearly a month, had
thrown up a whole mountain of sand hills, and kept on crying for
more soldiers, and had got almost all his guns mounted; and was just
ready to bring Yorktown down about Mr. Johnston's ears, with a grand
display of substantial fireworks, that general made up his mind not
to be served in that way. Nor would he accommodate George by waiting
to see his grand display of fireworks. No, my son, he was not the
man to be caught at a disadvantage, or waste powder unnecessarily.
Some kind friend informed him of George's intentions, so he packed
up his baggage one night, and moved himself off, leaving Yorktown
and his sand hills as a legacy to George, who was very much
disappointed at being treated so shabbily by his old friend and
playmate.
People said General Johnston was a cunning fox, and not to be caught
in any trap our George could set. But George, like the Irishman, had
a deal of pluck, and a big heart, and, above both, a great deal of
chivalry. Now he was anxious that his old friend should not go away
so shabbily, but come back, and either breakfast with him or
accommodate him with a fight.
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