The boy retraced his steps reluctantly. A girl of about sixteen, meantime, had emerged from the building with two small children clinging to her skirts; fear had blanched all their faces; they gazed, trembling and silent, at the boy and the officer. “We are needed here, Cole,” said Tom, evenly. “I wonder how many there are in the party at the schoolhouse?” Cole bent his brows in an expression that expressed his fear that there were more of them than were visible. “You stay here,” said Tom. “Dismount and have your rifle ready. I’m going over there to speak to those redcoats.” Cole, without a word, did as commanded; he squatted among some bushes in a spot from which he had a clear view of the schoolhouse; his rifle was held between his knees, ready for anything that might occur. The lad at the schoolhouse, white-faced and with quivering lip, stood before the British officer; he was a slight, delicate boy, at best, and seemed unaccustomed to rough treatment. The redcoat glared at him like an animal, blood hungry and enraged. “I want the truth,” said he. “I have told you the truth,” was the boy’s reply. “I know nothing.” “You lie!” Turning to the soldier who held the rope, the officer proceeded, “Corporal, bring the halter here; perhaps that will bring him to his senses and induce him to tell the truth.” The girl, who stood in the doorway with the children, screamed sharply and, running forward, she threw her arms about the boy’s neck. “No, no,” she cried. “Please don’t harm him; he is my brother; he knows nothing.” “Corporal,” ordered the officer, “take her away.” Despite her cries, the girl was dragged away; the boy forgot his own danger and sprang toward the two soldiers, his eyes flashing. “Let her go,” he cried, his pale cheeks flushing with indignation. “Take your hands off, you cowards!” “Ah, you have spirit, have you,” cried the officer, his laugh sounding harsh and unpleasant upon the evening air. “Well, you’ll need it before many minutes, my lad, if you don’t loosen that tongue of yours.” “I tell you again, I know nothing about the American general’s army; I did not see them; I do not know how many or how few men there are in Richmond.” “Corporal, the halter,” cried the officer; “there is no use in our wasting words here.” The British corporal brought the rope; the boy’s eyes widened as he looked upon it, but his lips closed firmly. Without a word more it was tossed over the limb of a near-by tree and the corporal was widening the noose when Tom rode up. “Just one moment,” said Marion’s young scout. “I would like to know what this little pleasantry means, if you please.”