The unknown intruder was deceived by the ruse. With both hands he lightly and deliberately pressed every part of the lad's clothing from his throat to his feet. Twice he went over him, and then a whispered curse testified to his disappointment at not finding what he wanted. Next, he took the knife from between his teeth with one hand, and as he lifted it high to strike, he turned a little toward a window in the side wall, dimly revealing a scarred and wrinkled face with but one eye. Nathan uttered a shrill cry, and grabbed the descending wrist with both hands. A desperate jerk lifted him upright, and he heard the knife clatter to the floor. He held tight for a second or two, and then a blow on the face broke his grip and hurled him back. He sprang quickly to his feet, crying out in chorus with his companions, who were now awake and stumbling blindly over the floor. He saw a dark figure, followed by another, rush into the yard. Then the men at the other end of the block-house woke up with noisy clamor, and amid all the din, a musket-shot rang loud and clear. "What's wrong?" demanded Sergeant Murdock. "Speak, somebody!" "Simon Glass was here," cried Nathan. "He tried to kill me. He just ran out! Don't let him get away!" The name of the Tory ruffian was familiar to all, and the angry and excited men swarmed from both sides into the middle-room. A private appeared on the scene with a lighted lantern, and by the yellow glare the door of the guard-room was discovered to be wide open. "The spy has escaped," roared the sergeant. "This is Glass's doing! I wish I'd hung the man last night!" "Glass didn't come here for that," declared Barnabas. "Waxpenny must have opened the door an' run fur it when he heard the row in yonder; an' where's the sentry?" Just then a clamor rose from several of the men who had hastened outside. Led by Sergeant Murdock, the rest of the party ran into the yard, and at one side of the door they found the prostrate body of the sentry who had been posted in the middle-room. The man was breathing faintly, and his swollen and purple face showed that he had been nearly strangled to death by a pair of muscular hands. With shouts of vengeance the crowd scattered in different directions, but a cry from Barnabas brought them together again at the partly-open gate of the stockade. Here lay the second sentry stone dead, with a long knife buried in his ribs. "If Simon Glass don't die for this may I never shoulder a musket again!" roared the infuriated sergeant. "It was a sharp trick he played. He must have come here a bit ago, persuaded the sentry to admit him, and then stabbed the poor fellow to the heart. Next he enticed the other sentry to the yard, and settled him, too. And after the lad here discovered him in the room both he and the spy darted out the gate." "But where's the third sentry?" cried Barnabas, "an' who fired that shot--Hark! some one's calling now!"