Placing this note on the side of the tree opposite the fire so that it would not be scorched by the heat, and fastening it there with three or four wooden pins so that the wind would not blow it away, Marcy ran back to the boat, and Julius once more pushed out into the stream. He turned to look behind him every few minutes, but the boat was pulled into Middle River, and perhaps two or three miles down its swift current toward the coast, before he saw any signs of the fire he had left behind; and at the moment his eye caught its first faint reflection on the clouds, he heard a cautious hail from the bank. "Boat ahoy!" came through the darkness in tones that were just loud enough to attract his attention. "Who is it?" demanded Marcy, picking up the loaded gun that lay beside him in the stern-sheets. "Way enough, Julius." "Mebbe dat aint de man you want see," replied the boy, handling the oars as if he meant to turn the boat toward the opposite bank. "I am Aleck Webster's father," said the voice, in answer to Marcy's question. "Ben Hawkins sent me here to show you the way to our camp." "When did you see Hawkins?" inquired Marcy. "This afternoon; and he told me that the Home Guards were likely to drive you away from home to-night. It's all right, Mister Marcy." The latter was so sure of it that he at once turned the boat toward the point from which the voice came (the night was so dark that he could not see anything but bushes and trees on the bank), and in two minutes more was standing by Mr. Webster's side. The man pointed toward the bright spot on the clouds and said, in a voice that Marcy recognized this time: "Are the Home Guards out to-night?" "Oh, yes; they're out, and came to my mother's house, or I shouldn't be here now. But they didn't set anything on fire so far as I know." "Then whose work is that? There's something burning off that way." "It is the work of _Marcy, the Refugee_. That's I. After persecuting me for months in every way he could think of, Beardsley has driven me from home at last, and I set fire to his schooner to pay him for it." "I am a refugee myself," replied Mr. Webster. "And there's my hand, which says that I will stand your friend as long as you need one. If the Home Guards had been organized a few weeks sooner Aleck would not have left us old men and boys to fight our battles alone. But he had an idea that the presence of the Yankees on the coast would serve as a protection to us; and there's where he was wrong. If we don't do something at once, they will follow us into the swamp and kill or capture the last one of us. That fight in Hampton Roads put life and energy into them." "I don't see why it should. They got the worst of it." "Are you sure?" exclaimed Mr. Webster. "I heard that we got the worst of it; that some of our best ships were sunk or burned."