"I'm not mistaken," the man asserted loudly; "not a bit of it. I know who I'm talking to--your name's Spencer, and you were here with the British last winter. Don't be in a hurry to get away, you and your friend." "Who is he--do you know him?" Nathan asked in an undertone. "I do now," Godfrey whispered. "His name is Burd, and he kept a store up near the barracks. I had him arrested by the guard for threatening Major Langdon. He's going to give us trouble, Nathan. Look, the people are beginning to notice us--" "Whispering treason, that's what you are," exclaimed the ruffian. "No such doings, my fine fellows. It's lucky I saw you--" "We must get away at once," muttered Nathan. "What a fool I was to stop you here! Now will you get out of the way?" he added to the man. "You're making a mistake that will cost you dear--I am a son of Captain Stanbury of the American army, and a soldier myself--" "A likely story!" sneered the ruffian; and that quickly, as the lads started to move, he threw himself upon Godfrey and bore him hard back against the corner of the house. "A spy! a spy!" he yelled at the top of his voice. Nathan lost his temper completely, and like a flash he fetched the man a stunning blow in the face that made him release Godfrey. A second blow sent him staggering to the edge of the sidewalk, where he set up a prodigious shouting for help. Clamor and confusion followed, and escape for the lads was out of the question. As they stood side by side against the wall they were quickly hemmed in by an excited mob, and so deafening was the noise that they could not make themselves heard. Men came running from every direction--citizens, store-keepers, tavern loungers, lads eager for a fight, and a few crippled and bandaged soldiers. "Spies! spies!" they howled. "Kill them! hang them!" Nathan, feeling himself to blame for the trouble, stepped a little in front of Godfrey. He had a pistol in his pocket, and this he pulled out with a flourish, though he hoped to avoid the necessity of using it. [Illustration: NATHAN PRESENTED HIS PISTOL] "Listen, my good people!" he shouted. "There must be some here who know me. I am an American soldier, and my companion is not a spy--" It was no use. He could not make himself heard. Closer and closer pressed the mob, inflamed and urged on by the ruffian, Burd. The sight of the lad's drawn pistol kept the foremost back a few paces, but those in the rear began to hurl missiles. Stones and clubs struck the wall on both sides of Nathan, and a rotten apple burst on Godfrey's shoulder. The crowd was increasing, and the clamor was waking noisy echoes in other quarters of the town. Nathan's pallor gave way to a flush of anger. "Keep back!" he roared. "Keep back, or I'll fire. You cowards! Give me a chance to speak."