Just then Nat Collins, the elder of the two brothers, entered; he seemed angry at Tom for having entered the cabin, and there was an anxious look about him, as he stood gazing from one to the other, not knowing just how to act. “Light a candle, Nat,” said the man upon the couch. “And why,” he proceeded, “did you not tell me that friends had arrived.” “They did not come until the fight had started,” said Nat, lighting a candle in a brass sconce from a dim fire that burned on the hearth. The flickering light fell upon Tom’s face as the young wood-cutter arose, and the man on the couch uttered an exclamation of surprise. “Tom Deering!” cried he. Tom gave him one quick look and then springing forward, he seized his hand. “Major Marion,” he burst out joyfully. “Who would ever have thought of seeing you here.” “I wouldn’t, myself, some little time ago,” said the soldier. “How is it with you, my lad?” Tom had been of great service to Major Marion in his expeditions against the Tories after the defeat of Sir Peter Parker’s fleet at Sullivan’s Island; the two had gradually come to admire and trust one another greatly. “I have my good horse,” answered the boy, “and I have a brace of pistols and a sabre; and, yes, there’s Cole, too; but that’s all; the British have all the rest,” sadly--“house, slaves, plantation and all.” “So, I have been told, is the case with all the men in Charleston who had the courage to brave the king,” said Marion. “But I can say nothing from my own observation, Tom, for I broke my leg about the time Clinton arrived in the roadstead; and since the fort fell I’ve been hiding in the cane-brakes like a fox; yes, and listening to the hounds in full cry all around me. But don’t despair, my boy; Carolina is not yet beaten; she has only begun to fight.” As they talked there in the dimly-lighted room, the elder Collins limped in. Marion’s quick eye at once noticed that he had been wounded. “You’ve been hit,” said he, anxiously. “Nothing to speak of, major,” said the man. “It bled pretty freely and it pains a great deal, but it won’t last long.” Here Mrs. Collins followed her husband into the room. “What are you going to do with that British officer?” inquired she. “He’s going on something dreadful out there.” “Have him brought in,” said Marion to Tom. “I want to see this ruthless king’s officer before we let him go.” “Let him go!” ejaculated the Collinses in a breath. “You are not going to do that.” “We are hardly in a position to take prisoners of war,” said Major Marion with a smile. “We cannot resort to his own measures and use the rope, either. But bring him in.”