“In case some one has carried the sloop away, we’ll need every minute that can be had in which to find another craft,” Sam grumbled, and Seth replied cheerily: “True for you, lad; but if we set out now an’ come upon a roysterin’ party of Tories, or a squad of soldiers prowlin’ around in search of plunder, we won’t be able to say whether the sloop is where we left her or not. This is a game in which a mistake on the part of a single player will cost one life if no more, an’ we can’t afford to take any chances, so put a stopper on your impatience.” As a matter of course we knew that Seth Hartley was in the right, and difficult though the task was, I forced myself to await his movements with some little semblance of cheerfulness. It was not yet midnight, as we afterward came to know, when he finally gave the word. We had already crept out of the swamp, as on the previous night, when the friendly darkness screened our movements, therefore in order to begin the journey it was only necessary to pick up the musket and ammunition which Abraham had foolishly, as I then thought, brought from the sloop. This time I was the one to lead the way, and although I was by no means as good a guide as Abe Decker, I had no doubts as to my ability to pilot the party without going very far out of a straight course. I am not going to make any effort at giving the details of that tramp, because our adventures were so many that there is not the time nor the space for them all. The first came when we were no more than a mile from the swamp, and then, while making our way through a thicket where I could have sworn no human being would be found, we came plump upon three red-coats who, as could readily be seen, had come into the possession of more strong liquor than was wholesome for them. It was fortunate for us that they were considerably less than half sober, and when we literally over-ran them, causing two to spring unsteadily to their feet with weapons in hand, Seth Hartley answered their challenge, making it appear by his words that we were a party of marines from the Good Hope out for a lark. Thanks to the darkness, the drunkenness of the men, and Seth’s acquaintance with the crew of the prison ship, we were allowed to go our way unmolested. The next adventure was brought about by my carelessness. I thought to cross the pasture of a Tory named Graves, whose land lay in our path as I had mapped it out, for by so doing we could save nearly half a mile in distance; but the house dog smelled us out, and his barking aroused the farmer. We did not dare take to our heels lest the Tory should pursue, therefore Sam and I hid behind a brush fence, while Seth Hartley explained that he was making his way across lots to join his ship off Gowanus creek.