They must be careful, or the soldiers would see them. They went round back of the house to the north and towards the outside beach, and then turned and plowed through the deep sand just above high water mark. They must keep out of sight of the boats, and of the ship, also. Luckily, she was anchored to the south of the light; and as the beach curved to the west, they soon left her out of sight. Then they took to the water side, and, with the drum between them, ran as fast as they could towards the mainland. Presently they reached the low heaps of sand that showed where the spit joined the fields and woods. Panting and excited, they tightened up the drum and tried the fife softly. "You take the fife, Sarah, and I'll drum." "All right; but we mustn't stand still. We must march along the shore towards the light." "Won't they see us?" "No; we'll walk next the water on the outside beach." "Oh, yes; and they'll think it's soldiers going down to the Point to head 'em off." "Just so. Come, begin! One, two,--one, two!" Drum! drum!! drum!!! Squeak! squeak!! squeak!!! "For'ard--march!" "Ha! ha!" The fife stopped. "Don't laugh. You'll spoil everything, and I can't pucker my lips." Drum! drum!! drum!!! Squeak! squeak!! squeak!!! The men in the town heard it and were amazed beyond measure. Had the soldiers arrived from Boston? What did it mean? Who were coming? Louder and louder on the breeze came the roll of a sturdy drum and the sound of a brave fife. The soldiers in the boats heard the noise and paused in their work of destruction. The officers ordered everybody into the boats in the greatest haste. The people were rising! They were coming down the Point with cannons, to head them off! They would all be captured, and perhaps hung by the dreadful Americans! How the drum rolled! The fife changed its tune. It played "Yankee Doodle,"--that horrid tune! Hark! The men were cheering in the town! there were thousands of them in the woods along the shore! In grim silence marched the two girls,--plodding over the sharp stones, splashing through the puddles,--Rebecca beating the old drum with might and main; Sarah blowing the fife with shrill determination. How the Britishers scrambled into their boats! One of the brave officers was nearly left behind on the burning sloop. Another fell overboard and wet his good clothes, in his haste to escape from the American army marching down the beach--a thousand strong! How the sailors pulled! No fancy rowing now, but desperate haste to get out of the place and escape to the ship. How the people yelled and cheered on the shore! Fifty men or more jumped into the boats to prepare for the chase. Ringing shots began to crack over the water. Louder and louder rolled the terrible drum. Sharp and clear rang out the cruel fife. Nearly exhausted, half dead with fatigue, the girls toiled on,--tearful, laughing, ready to drop on the wet sand, and still beating and blowing with fiery courage.