At one moment I would be aglow with satisfaction because at last we had laid the scoundrel by the heels, and believed we knew beyond a question how he could be held secure so long as we pleased. Then would come the knowledge that the slightest curiosity on the part of those who surrounded us would lead to our discovery, and the cold chills crept down my back as I pictured ourselves prisoners, where Luther could gloat over us even if he did no worse. At another time I could see, in my mind’s eye, Abel Grant in the hold of the prison ship, so closely guarded that there was no ray of hope, however slight, of our being able to lend him a hand. Then I could see all our little party keeping him company in his cramped quarters with no possibility of being released save by death, or when the war had come to an end. I speculated, with the numbness of fear in my heart, as to where my father and mother might be at that moment, and doubted whether we would ever come together again in this world; but all the while I shared with my comrades the watch which it seemed necessary we should keep upon the throngs of men on every hand, although what it would have profited to know when they might be coming upon us I could not have said, for of a verity we were unable to offer any resistance worth the name, in event of their entering the swamp. Only at rare intervals did one or the other speak; it was not a time when a fellow would be inclined for conversation. Early in the afternoon Seth Hartley again insisted we should try to gain some rest; but it would have been useless for me to make any attempt at wooing slumber, and instead of following his advice I urged Abraham that it was his duty to do so because of the long tramp before him, which caused the lad to reply: “I fancy my eyes are open quite as wide as yours, an’ to close them would be impossible. When I am in Peter Snyder’s hut, where the red-coats do not swarm so thickly as here, I may be able to sleep, but not now.” “An’ how do you count on goin’ there?” Sam asked, rather that he might break the dull monotony by speech, than from any real desire for information. “I don’t know, an’ had rather not talk about it,” was the almost petulant reply. “It must all be a matter of good or bad luck, an’ my upper lip will be the stiffer if I don’t dwell overly long upon the chances.” Until this had been said I believed Abraham felt confident he could make the journey with comparative ease; but now I understood that he misdoubted his ability to get through, yet was ready to risk his life in the effort, to the end that he might pay the scoundrelly Tory off in some of his own coin, and all this did not tend to make me feel any more comfortable in mind. Twice during the afternoon did Seth Hartley take the gag from Luther’s mouth in order to pour down his throat a few drops of muddy water, and when Sam insisted that he was wasting both time and sympathy, the Britisher said quietly: