We both saw Arnold through the gap in the fence, which was still open. Once he extended his walk on the garden path to come and stand almost within touching distance of us as we lay crouching in the shadows. He seemed to be staring out over the river which the gale was lashing into yeasty foam-crests. I marveled at his indifference to danger, the more since he had not seemed at all indifferent hitherto. And now he had more cause to fear, knowing by the broken lock and the muddy foot- and finger-marks that at least one desperate attempt had been made to abduct him. But, as I have said before, cowardice in any real pinch of danger was not among his many faults. Nothing would have been easier than for us to seize and bind and gag him there and then, leaving him so fettered and silenced to wait on the issues of our boat recovery. Champe was hot for doing this, and I had much ado to hold him back. When we had our opportunity to pass the sentry, Arnold had gone back to his tramping of the garden path and I felt that the worst of the crisis was now safely passed. Reaching the water’s edge we groped for our mooring rock and found the boat’s painter fastened as we had left it. In the task of raising the boat, Champe worked like a demon, wading in the icy water to tug and haul, and when the little craft finally showed her nose, plunging his arms shoulder deep to remove the weighting stones. Since the pacing sentinel passed and repassed on the bank above us every five minutes or so, silence and caution were prime necessities; and again and again I had to warn my companion on the score of his reckless and frantic haste. So working and halting, the task was accomplished at last; and when the final stone was removed and we had rocked and rolled the boat gently on the beach to free it of some of the water, Champe got in to bail while I held the gunwale and kept an ear alert for the sentry’s comings and goings. “All ready, Captain Dick,” muttered the frenzied one when he had finished the bailing and had carefully pulled the oars from their anchorings under the thwarts. “Make fast, and hold her so until I get out.” The time was come for striking the deadly blow, and it fell upon poor Champe without warning. “Stay where you are, Sergeant,” I commanded in low tones. “The game is up, and we shall not do this thing which we set out to do. Take the oars and let the tide and your two arms get you safely back to Major Lee’s camp at Tappan while you have the chance.” I could not see his face in the darkness, but my imagination could very well picture the fierce rage which was distorting it. “What’s that you say?” he choked. “You are giving it up?--now, when the devil himself couldn’t balk us? In God’s name, what do you mean, Captain Dick?”--this last in an agonized whisper. “I mean precisely what I say; you can not take him alone, and I shall not help you.”