A little later the whole party of young people began to move toward the tavern; for it was the day the post was due, if by good fortune it had escaped the marauders and highwaymen who, in the assumed name of war, infested the roads. Always there was a crowd about the tavern on Thursday afternoons, in hopes that news of the fighting and of friends would be forthcoming. This particular day they were not disappointed; for the women on the porch, looking up the street, presently saw that something unusual was to pay, and forgetful of bonnets or caps, they hastened to learn what it was. The postbag, with its slender store, lay neglected on the table, for the crowd had gathered eagerly about some one on the steps, and exclamations and questions filled the air. "What is it?" demanded Mistress Strudwick, breathless from her haste, and the crowd divided and showed a lad, pale and worn, sitting on the steps. "Billy, my Billy!" shrieked Amanda Bryce, and passing the other women, she caught him in her arms and hugged him frantically. For a few moments no one spoke or interfered, but after the dame had kissed every square inch of his face, and had felt his head, shoulders, and arms for fractures, Martha Strudwick interposed. "Come, Billy, tell us where you come from and what news you bring from the front. Has there been a fight, boy?" "Ay, and a victory for us." "A victory? Hurrah! When? Where? Talk quick!" cried a dozen voices shrill with their eagerness. "At Monmouth town in Jersey. 'Twas there we overtook Clinton as he made for New York." "We have already had rumours of it. And you did fight him and put him to rout? Who fell, and who was wounded? Can't you talk faster?" "Truly we did fight when we got the chance, though Lee--the foul fiends take him!--tried hard not to let us. It was the hottest day I ever felt. The sand and dust--" "Never mind about the sand and dust; tell us of the battle." And so by piecemeal, with many a question and interruption, he told them the story of that remarkable battle and his own capture. "And who was taken with you?" "Master Peter Ruffin, Amos Andrews, and Richard Clevering from our company, and some threescore more whom I knew not." But only a few heard the last clause of his sentence, for among the women were relatives and friends of each of the men mentioned, and there were sobs and moans for the fate of their loved ones. So great was the abhorrence in which British prisons were held, that death seemed almost preferable. Then presently Betty Clevering cried shrilly:-- "And if you were captured, how comes it you are here?" "I escaped." "And how many escaped with you?" "None--none; not even Richard." Mistress Ruffin took him sharply by the arm. "Do you mean to say that a strip of a lad like you had sense enough to get away, and grown men were held? That's a pretty tale!" And then with stifled sobs he told of Richard's sacrifice and his own getting away.