"The young man drives me to it, against my own nature," said Robinson, speaking under strong excitement. "If he will not pen that letter, then, David Ramsay, you will write to Innis, in my name, and say Galbraith Robinson has got the Ensign where no Tory foot will ever follow him, and holds him to answer the first mischief that is done to Arthur Butler. But, I swear to this sulky boy, that if that letter goes to Innis for want of a better, as I am a man and a sodger, he will never taste food or water till I hear that Major Butler is free. He shall starve in the mountain." "Oh, God! oh, God!" ejaculated the young soldier, in bitterness of heart; and covering his face with his hands, he threw his head upon the table, where he wept tears of agony. At length, looking in the countenance of Robinson, he said: "I am young, sir--not above twenty years. I have a mother and sisters in England." "We have no time to spare," interrupted Robinson, "much less to talk about kinsfolk. Major Butler has them that love his life better than e'er an Englishwoman loves her son. If they are brought to grief by this onnatural rascality, it matters nothing to me if every daughter and sister in England pines away of heart-sickness, for the loss of them that they love best. Take my advice, my lack-beard," added Robinson, patting him on the shoulder, "and write the letter. You have the chances of war in your favor, and may save your neck." "I will do your bidding, sir," said the ensign, after a pause. "Under the compulsion of force, I agree to write," and he once more took up the pen. "You speak now like a reasonable gentleman," said Horse Shoe. "I pity you, friend, and will preserve you against harm, so far as it can be done in the circumstances of the case." The ensign then wrote a few lines, in which he communicated to Colonel Innis, or to whatever officer his letter might be delivered, the straits in which he found himself, and the resolution of his captors to hold his life forfeit upon the event of any rigors, beyond those of an ordinary prisoner of war, imposed upon Major Butler. When he had finished, he gave the paper to Robinson. "Read it aloud, Mr. Ramsay," said Horse Shoe, delivering the scrawl to his friend. Ramsay read what was written. "It must be wrote over again," said Horse Shoe, after he had heard the contents. "First, it must make no mention of his being only a few miles off; that must be left out. Secondly, my name needn't be told; though if the runagates knowed he was in my hands, they wouldn't think his chance any better on that account. Let him say that the Whigs have got him--that's enough. And, lastly, he must write his own name in full at the bottom. And, look you, young man, don't be scrawling out the lines in such a way that your own hand-write moughtn't be known. That must speak for itself, because upon this letter depends your life. You understand?" "Give it me," said the ensign; "I will write it as you desire."