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and frustrated, but he was a loyal soldier and would obey orders.
    Ben leaned back against the door, thoughts tumbling through his head. Why in the world was he hiding in his cousin’s bathroom reading a letter written by the hand of one of the greatest heroes of the Revolutionary War? What was the message Morgan was conveying? What was he supposed to do now?
    He had to tell someone, but who could he trust? Not Sam. He wouldn’t recognize the importance of the letter, and there was no telling what he might do. And not Grammy, because he had taken the letter. She would be really upset and certainly punish him.
    Ben knew it was wrong to have stolen the letter, so there was just one thing to do: put it back. But they were leaving in the morning. He would have to do it now!
    Ben’s heart was pounding at the thought of going back into the house. He wasn’t sure he could do it, but he knew he had to. He put on his pants and grabbed his shirt and shoes. He reached over Sam and got the flashlight. He would surely need that. Just as he headed down the stairs, he heard the clock strike eleven.
    Ben took off down the street. He was a man on a mission. What if someone saw him? What would he say? He had grown pretty good at making up tales, so he would just say whatever came to him. Again, his great-grandfather’s words rang in his ears. “Takes one lie to cover another.”
    Most of the houses were dark as Ben walked down the sidewalk, but the streetlights lit his way. He did not run because his heart was already pounding. He hoped he would not be noticed if he walked slowly. He reached in his pocket to see if the letter was still there. Somehow he hoped it had magically flown back to where he found it, but there it was inside his pocket.
    He made it to the gate of the Johnson House where he and Sam had been that afternoon. His hands shook as he reached under the latch just like he saw Sam do. The gate swung open, and Ben slowly walked in. This time, it did not clang shut behind him. Boy, that’s a relief , Ben thought as he headed up the dark steps of the front porch.
    The streetlights did not reach the house, but he was afraid to turn on the flashlight until he got inside. He walked across the porch; the boards creaked with every step. He made it to the window, which, to his surprise, was open as if someone was waiting for him. He remembered closing it that afternoon. He couldn’t stop now. He slid inside and shined the flashlight toward the floor. He felt the portraits on the wall staring at him.
    Ben was heading toward the stairs when something flew down at him. He dropped the flashlight and fell to the floor. His heart was pounding out of his chest. As he lay there looking up, he heard a screeching noise.
    â€œBats!” he muttered to himself.
    He recovered and headed toward the stairway again. The flashlight streamed straight down on each step. He did not dare look anywhere except at his feet as he ascended. When he got to the hidden door in the wall, it was slightly ajar. He was sure he had shut it tight!
    He shined the light inside the wall and up to the shelf. He could see the box. Almost there , he thought. Then I can get out of here and forget all about this stupid letter and Daniel Morgan!
    â€œForget me?” a voice pierced the darkness.
    Ben froze in fear. He could not move.
    â€œSo glad you came tonight,” the voice continued.
    â€œWho are you?” Ben’s voice quaked, but he knew the answer even before he asked. He felt General Daniel Morgan’s presence all around him.
    â€œWhere are you, sir?” Ben asked.
    â€œI’m right here with you!” the voice responded.
    â€œBut I can’t see you,” Ben uttered.
    â€œYou don’t need to see me. You just need to listen. You read the letter, and you know the truth. It’s up to you to tell it now.”
    â€œWhat truth? What letter?” Ben asked.
    Ben stood there staring into the darkness;