Even in his excitement the beautiful summer day had an influence to soothe him. All about him lay the fertile lands of Ridgefield, his father’s plantation, one of the most beautiful in all the South. Behind him was the great house in which he had been born, flanked by the quarters of the negroes and the spacious barns. Off on the left was a grove, and below the hill was the slow stream. John would have felt the sweet influences of the hour more but for the presence of thirty men in scarlet, who now were the virtual masters of the place. Only a week earlier Captain Heald had somehow gained information that Major Russell and his son had left Sumter’s army for a brief visit home, so the Tory band had at once swooped down and captured both. John had been left on parole, and his father had escaped; but Ridgefield was now occupied by “Tarleton’s men,” and all its beauty for John was gone. He stopped and watched the guards doing “sentry go” in the road and out by the grove beyond the house, and the longer he watched them the more helpless and angry he felt. “Great liberty this!” he muttered. “Shut up here like a pig in a pen! Not that there are many pigs left here now,” he added, smiling grimly. “Oh, well, I hope father’ll do something, now that he’s got away.” “John,” said his mother, when he returned to the house, “Captain Heald is going to leave.” “Good for Captain Heald! When is he going?” “To-night. Lieutenant Mott is to be left in charge here.” “He’s not as bad as the other. Where’s the captain going?” “I think over to Fort Granby.” “Humph! Probably to set some one on father’s tracks. He’ll never get him, though. Hello! Here comes the captain now, and he’s all dressed to leave!” A colored man soon brought the captain’s horse, and as the officer swung himself lightly into the saddle, John, taking off his hat and bowing low, called out: “Good-bye, captain! We’ll speed the parting guest, although we can’t welcome the coming!” Captain Heald made no reply, but turned on John a threatening look, at which the boy laughed. That day went by and on the following morning John was wandering about the place, idly watching the soldiers, longing to be with his father, and wishing he had not given his parole to stay on the plantation. A black servant came to him and said that his mother wished to speak with him at the house. He went, and found his mother at the door. An expression of agony was on her face. “What is it mother?” he asked. “Go up to your room, John, and I’ll tell you.” The boy ran swiftly up the stairs, and held the door of his room open for his mother to enter. She closed and locked the door behind her, and then, handing him a letter, said: “I found this in the dining-room after Lieutenant Mott left the breakfast-table.” John took the letter from his mother’s hand and read: Fort Granby, August 6, 1780.