“But we’ll do better from now on,” laughed Clarage, who had in the height of their triumph actually begun to grow good-humored. “Are you ready, gentlemen?” to the others. “Yes, yes,” came a chorus. To the astonishment of all, Tom Deering stepped boldly forward into plain view; he was without weapons, and Clarage, with a roar of laughter, at once jumped to the conclusion that he meant to surrender. “He has weakened,” he yelled. “The rebel has weakened.” “Shoot him down,” cried Mark Harwood, from well in the rear. “No quarter!” Tom held up his hand, quietly; he showed not the slightest trace of fear, for the things that Cole had made him understand had filled him with confidence. The Tories below gazed up at him in astonishment. Tom spoke: “I charge all men within hearing of my voice to lay down their arms, in peace. You are enemies to your neighbors and to Carolina, and in the name of the Continental Congress, I call upon you to surrender.” “He’s mad!” burst out Clarage, “as mad as a March hare!” “Down with him,” shrilled the voice of Mark Harwood. “No quarter to the rebel.” The muskets were about to be raised to their owners’ shoulders; Tom’s voice rang out warningly. “On your lives, lay down your arms.” A shout of derision greeted the words; then the young swamp-rider’s fingers went to his lips and a sharp, shrill whistle split the air. It was the signal that Cole had arranged with the released prisoners; and like magic it was answered. Through every door and window, it seemed, sprang a resolute man; before the Tories could raise a hand a shattering volley was poured into them. A cloud of smoke, cries and the sound of heavy blows were swept up the staircase; Lucy, her hand pressed to her wildly-beating heart, made as though to look over the rail at the awful scene below. But Tom put her aside, almost roughly. “Don’t look,” said he. “There is nothing there for you to see.” The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the door below opened with a crash; shouts and cries were heard upon the veranda and lawn. Tom rushed to a window and looked out. He was just in time to see Mark Harwood, Clarage and the other surviving Tories rush toward the barn, spring upon the backs of the horses which the liberated prisoners had brought out for their own use, and gallop swiftly away. CHAPTER X HOW MARION’S MEN LAY IN AMBUSH, AND WHAT CAME OF IT THIS encounter of Tom Deering with the loyalists at the Foster mansion made a great stir. Mr. Foster, of course, could no longer remain at his home, where the British were likely to close in upon him at any time; so he and Lucy, taking their most valuable possessions, made their way northward toward Virginia. From this time on, also, the British commander, Cornwallis, displayed a greater solicitude than ever in the attempts to capture Marion and disperse his band of horsemen.