There followed hoarse cries and a rush for the building. It seemed to Peggy that a moment had hardly passed before a red glare lit up the spot where the cottage stood. “Back into the swamp,” whispered Egan in a whisper. “They may see us here.” Back into thicknesses of morass such as Peggy had never seen before they went, speaking only when necessary and then in the lowest of tones. And thus the rest of the night was spent, while the fiends ravaged the herding pens, and beat up the bushes for the ponies. The fugitives remained in hiding until morning dawned. Then they made their way back to the blackened ruins of the cottage. Tears coursed down Peggy’s cheeks at the sight. “What shall thee do?” she cried putting her arms about Mistress Egan. “Oh, what shall thee do?” For a moment the fisherman’s wife could not speak. She shed no tears, but her face was worn, and drawn, and haggard. She had aged in the night. “Henry,” she cried, “there is but one thing for us to do, and that is to get to mother’s.” “And how shall we do that, Mandy? We have neither horse nor wagon left us.” “Henry Egan, I’m ashamed of you! Ain’t we in North Carolina? When did her people ever refuse to aid each other?” “You’re right,” he acknowledged humbly. “North Carolina is all right—but the Tories. I don’t take no stock in that part of her population.” “And neither do I,” she rejoined grimly. “From this time on I am a Whig out and aboveboard. They have done us all the harm they can, I reckon. What you got in that bag, Henry?” Egan smiled. “It’s gold, Mandy. I reckon they didn’t find all the pickings.” “For mercy sake, Henry Egan, we can’t get through the country with that,” exclaimed the good woman. “Bury it, or do something with it.” “Yes,” he said. “That will be the safest. Wait for me while I do it.” He was with them again in a short time. “We will go to Hampton’s and get something to eat,” he said. “I kept a little money, and maybe Mis’ Hampton will let us have some horses.” He turned as he spoke and his wife started after him, but Peggy lingered. “Come, child,” said Mistress Egan. “It’s a right smart way over to Hampton’s. We must get along.” “But,” hesitated Peggy, “won’t I be a burden now? I ought not to add to thy trouble.” “Why, honey, you have nowhere to go. What would you do? Now don’t worry about trouble, but just come right along. We will all keep together. What’s ourn is yours too.” And gratefully Peggy went with them. It was indeed a “right smart way” to Hampton’s, which proved to be a large plantation lying some ten miles from the cottage. It was a cloudless day in August, and excessively warm. When they at length reached the place they were footsore and weary. “Why, Mandy Egan,” exclaimed a motherly looking woman, coming to the door of the dwelling as she caught sight of them. “Whatever has happened? Come right in. You all look ready to drop.”