The boy’s head began to whirl with remembrance of the days when he had toddled at Sandy’s heels; the two had shunned the house where their mother’s half-crazed talk of revenge left them no peace; they had stayed in the fields together; sometimes the big boy had teased the little one, but sometimes he had snatched Neil up and tossed and played with him, making him blissfully certain that they were of one age and stature--rough, loving mates. Neil’s only bright memories of home were of Sandy. It was because they were so bright that he had hated the Tory Sandy so much more than any other Tory; and yet this man, this bushwhacker and marauder, had spoken of the old days. Once Neil leaned forward to ask him if he recalled some trifling circumstance which stood out with special plainness in his own recollection, but he could not form the words. Relive the past with a Tory? He shook his head savagely and looked in the direction of the approaching troops. The soldiers were coming into view round a curve in the road--not Tarleton’s Legion, but a body of plainly dressed militia such as might be found in either army, such as might have reinforced Tarleton. For the space of a breath Sandy and Neil watched them. Then an officer galloped forward. The brightening daylight struck across his red hair and large, high-boned face. It was Col. William Campbell leading his riflemen to Greene. Before Sandy could stir Neil caught him by the arm. In their partial shelter they had not yet been seen. “If you run, I’ll call out your name and you’ll be a dead man!” he whispered. “That’s Campbell’s regiment, and you’re my prisoner! Give me back that bonnet. There’s a message in it to Colonel Campbell from General Greene!” His words grew swifter with triumph. “Oh, you laughed when I said I’d vowed to capture you. You were sure it was Tarleton’s regiment----” Sandy nodded. For once a surprise had dazed him and he stood quiescent, realizing that if Neil gave the alarm those grim-faced men would scour the woods and hunt him down. “Oh, I’m caught!” he acknowledged grimly. “You’ll have the pleasure of seeing me shot or hanged.” “I said I’d capture you,” Neil repeated. “I said no Tory should live----” Something unexpected choked his words. The vision of deaths he had seen in the army passed before him, and then of two boys romping together in a field. It was only an instant, but the love and the hate of his life struggled together. He began to tremble. “The bonnet!” he begged. “If I have the bonnet I can hold their notice.” “You mean you’ll help me off?” Sandy’s voice broke huskily. “Little Neil--I’ll remember this, I’ll----” But there was no time for words. He pulled the bonnet from his tunic, turned and walked coolly into the woods, just as the soldiers caught sight of Neil’s higher figure on the horse. Neil rode to meet the regiment, holding his bonnet in his hands. He forgot his disguise and saluted like a soldier.