“Stay here,” the man said shortly; and he left me and rode up and down, hunting for a crossing, while I followed him with scared eyes. At length he found what he wanted and he signed to me to join him. “Give me your rein,” he said, “and hold on with all the strength you have! It’s neck or nothing!” We did it. But the muscles of the crushed shoulder and, in a less degree, the broken arm gave me exquisite pain, and I had to pause awhile on the other side of the water, crouching on the neck of my horse. When I had recovered, we went on and climbed out of the bottom and in another half mile as the light began to fail, we struck into a rough road. We rode along it side by side, and he looked me over. “Major, ain’t you?” he said by and by. I admitted it. “Only came in yesterday, did you?” “That’s so,” I said. “How did you know?” “Ah!” he said. “That’s telling. But you may take it from me, there’s little we don’t know. Ever been taken before, Major?” In pain as I was I wondered what imp of mischief had suggested the question. “If you must know,” I said reluctantly, “I was taken at Saratoga.” “And exchanged?” “Yes,” I said. He chuckled. “Jerusalem!” he said. “You take it as easily as a snake takes skinning! Got a gift for it seemingly! But you escaped better last time than this, I guess?” “Yes,” I said grudgingly—why should I explain? And luckily at that moment a light showed a little way before us, and relieved me from farther questioning. The forest gave place to two or three ragged fields, divided by snake-fences; and beyond these, where our road crossed another, appeared a small log-house, backed by some straggling out-buildings. If appearances went for anything it was a tavern or a smithy. The light shone from a window of the house. As we rode up to the door two or three dogs heard us and gave the alarm. The result was not promising. The light went out. My companion swung his foot clear of the stirrup, and kicked the door. “House!” he cried. “House! Barter!” There was no answer. “House!” he cried again. “It’s I! Wilmer!” A window creaked. “Is that you, Captain?” a thin quavering voice asked. “Who should it be?” my companion answered. “Don’t be a fool! I want you.” A bar was removed—not very quickly—and the door was opened. By such firelight as issued from the room I saw an old man standing in the doorway, and behind him three or four white-faced women. He nursed a gun which he had barely the strength to level, and which he made haste to lower as soon as he had taken a look at us. “Lord-a-mercy, Cap’en, what a gunning there’s been,” he piped, peering up at us, all of a tremble. “We’ve been sweating here for hours, not knowing what moment the Tories and redcoats might be on us! Lord-a-mercy! Might ha’ been the last day by the sound of it!” “Father, let the Captain tell us,” said one of the women.