Hawkins made no answer but followed the three across the room and, when they had gone out, held the door open for Snell, who lost no time in joining them. The sudden turn of affairs had left the fellow speechless, for he had expected to find the powder and then to accuse Hawkins of knowing that it was hidden in the cellar. “Oh, sir,” exclaimed Don a few moments later, “it’s true, what I told you, every word of it, but, oh----” “Say no more,” interrupted Hawkins, smiling. “Say no more. I don’t doubt your word; and if I had I should have stopped them, Tories as they are. But had they been the King’s men, I should not have interfered in any circumstances.” “But you’ve rendered us a great service----” Aunt Martha began. “It is nothing compared with the service your nephew once rendered me. I owe him my life, and I trust that sometime we may meet again--in better days.” Hawkins turned and walked to the stairs. Later in the afternoon Don explained to his aunt what he had done with the powder the night before, and a look of relief came into her tired eyes. “I knew there must be some explanation,” she said simply. “And,” she added, smiling slightly, “that accounts for the noise I heard last night and for the shortness of the candle.” “Do you suppose they’ll return?” asked Don. “I’m afraid so,” his aunt replied. CHAPTER XVII DON MEETS GENERAL WASHINGTON Crean Brush’s men did not return to the house in Pudding Lane; they had more than enough to do in the excitement of the withdrawal. Nor did Snell give any further trouble; no doubt the fellow feared the strong arm of Hawkins. On the sixteenth of the month both Redcoats carried all their equipment from the house and did not return. All that Hawkins said as he left the room was “Better days, young sire; better days, my good woman.” “Ah, yes, let us hope for them,” replied Aunt Martha. Don only smiled, and Hawkins, as he closed the door, smiled in return. That was the last that Don ever saw of him during the war. The following day, which was Sunday, the Redcoats began to embark; and not only the soldiers left the town, but the Tories also. Don and Jud caught a glimpse of Tom Bullard and his father carrying some of their household effects down King Street. The faces of both Tories showed anger and mortification. “Come on,” whispered Jud, “let’s get ahead of ’em and then turn and give ’em a yell. We’ll never see them again.” “No, Jud,” Don replied, “I’m just a little sorry for them. Oh, yes, I know Tom’s acted mean, but just think what’s happening to him and his father; they’re going to Halifax, so I’ve heard, and all they can take along is just that little bit of stuff they’re carrying. Their fine house up on Hanover Street is lost, and they’ll never get it again, because they daren’t ever return.”