As the sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, Abraham Woodhull, the everyman spy, and his compatriot, the ever-vigilant Major Benjamin Tallmadge, were traversing through the dense woodland terrain, feeling the burden of espionage weighing down on their shoulders like the yokes of farmers' plows. Spycraft in revolutionary times was as much about wits as it was about maintainance of one's person, and it was this latter point that had led them to seek respite at a secluded pond they stumbled upon. "Ben, you reckon we have time for a quick dip?" Abe asked, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the tension. "Indeed," Tallmadge replied with a weary grin. "I suppose General Washington wouldn't begrudge his two most trusted operatives a momentary pause for... personal hygiene." The occluded pond, caged by an amphitheater of trees, seemed like an oasis of calm. They approached it with the stealth they typically reserved for the exchange of secret messages, stripping down to nature's garb as such secrecy was no longer required in these confines. The two men dropped their layers as one would cast aside the weight of espionage, until their physiques were laid bare in the gentle wilderness. Abraham possessed a lean and wiry frame, with just enough muscle to suggest a familiarity with labor, but softened by the clandestine life of message-running that left little time for the plow. Benjamin, on the other hand, embodied the disciplined build of military training, broad-shouldered and solid, a testament to the rigors of revolutionary soldiering. Their humble nudity could have been sculptures of man in his most primitive form--a revolutionary Adam and a Colonial Eve, were Eve a man named Ben and the serpent's temptation was a refreshing bath rather than forbidden fruit. "With haste, before anyone chances upon two naked patriots," Ben jested as they tiptoed into the water. "Free at last!" Abe exclaimed, as the cool water lapped against their bodies, soothing their weary muscles and washing away the grime of secrecy and war. They swam in comfortable silence for a spell until casual banter took hold. "So, I've read about a French practice--bathing without the confines of linen or wool. It is quite... liberating," Abe said, splashing water on his face. "Ah, perhaps once we win this war, such continental sensibilities will take root here as well," Ben replied, smoothing his hand over the water's surface. Amidst their repartee, nature called--albeit in a most untimely and gaseous form. Abe's face creased into a look of mild focus before a bubbling broke the surface, the sound echoing in the quiet like a herald's trumpet calling for attention. That was promptly followed by Ben's own countenance, shifting through an array of expressions--a quick onset of surprise, followed by relief, and finally a mischievous satisfaction, as another series of bubbles percolated upward. The pond, moments ago a picture of pastoral serenity, now bore witness to a comical sonnet of human relief. The water around them roiled with the aftermath of their bodily declarations and, as if offended by this assault on its purity, several unfortunate fish floated to the surface. "Good heavens, Abe! We could've just fished with a net!" Ben bellowed with laughter. "Clever Ben, we can circumvent the need for bait and hook!" Abe chuckled in return, scooping up the lifeless fish. "Who knew espionage would teach such efficient fishing methods?" The two of them waded back to shore, plucking the surprised bounty from their inadvertent gas attack. Ben began to gather sticks and stones, setting to work crafting a modest campfire. Abe, ever the Setauket farmer, proved adept at prepping their unexpected catch for roasting. As flames began to leap up and crackle, offering warmth and a promise of a filling meal, they dressed and settled down to tend to their humble feast. "Well, that's one for the record books," Abe said. "We defeat the British by day and knock-out fish with our backsides by night." "To liberty and to our unorthodox methods!" Ben added, raising an imaginary toast. In that peculiar moment, as fish sizzled and twilight settled, the revolution seemed a distant thought. Laughter echoed through the trees, and for a brief span, Abe Woodhull and Benjamin Tallmadge were not spies, not soldiers, but two men simply enjoying the spoils of a decidedly strange day at the pond.