He watched us mutely, perforce, and with an intentness which told that he was suffering the agony of death in anticipation, and I, minded that he should be kept in suspense, motioned Sam and Abe to follow me yet a little further into the swamp, where we might speak without his overhearing the words, for I desired he should believe we had murder in our hearts. Standing waist-deep in the mud and water where we could keep the Tory well in view, and were not in danger of being seen by the Britishers nearabout, we discussed the situation in whispers, realizing now that the danger was increased tenfold because we had yielded to our desire for revenge. “I’m willin’ to agree that we’ve made idiots of ourselves, an’ risked over an’ over again the life of Seth Hartley by capturin’ that miserable Tory,” Abraham began before I could speak, and much as if he knew what was in my mind; “but since we have again made him prisoner, I promise you that unless I myself am killed he shall not escape, for from this out he is my especial charge.” “But surely we cannot keep him here,” Sam said nervously. “It will be a little short of a miracle if we ourselves can remain without detection, an’ if peradventure the opportunity should come for us to aid Abel Grant, how may we be of any service if our movements are hampered by him?” “But yet I am not minded to kill him in cold blood,” I said, believing for the moment that it was in Sam’s mind we should put an end to his miserable existence. “God forbid!” the lad whispered fervently. “Yet how may we set him free, for when it comes to a question of his life or Abel’s, we must not hesitate, even though by letting him go we have condemned ourselves?” “I will take charge of that part of the business,” Abraham said decidedly, and by his tone I understood that already he had some plan in mind. “If by any happy chance there comes an opportunity for us to strike a blow in behalf of Abel Grant, you lads and Seth Hartley can do as much without, as with me, an’ the success of the undertakin’ will not be in jeopardy by my absence.” “By your absence?” I repeated, mystified by the words. “Ay, that was what I said, an’ when the night comes, if so be I am still at liberty, it is my intent to take yonder whelp an’ run the risk of gainin’ Peter Snyder’s hut. Once there, with the old man to lend a hand as jailor, an’ I dare venture to swear under such guardianship Luther Stedman will never be able to escape, I may return, unless the conditions have so been changed that it is unnecessary.” “The chances are as an hundred to one against your reachin’ Peter Snyder’s hut, even though you traveled alone, therefore what hope could you have of makin’ the journey in safety, hampered by a prisoner?” I cried, absolutely frightened by Abraham’s proposition.