“What are you two mutterin’ about?” Abe, who was seated well forward, asked with a laugh. “One would think, Eph, that you had seen a ghost, by the whitenin’ of your face when Luther Stedman hove in sight.” I was vexed beyond measure because of evidently having given proof that a glimpse of the Tory disturbed me, and said curtly: “Your eyes must have been playin’ tricks, if you fancied there was any change in my face when the cur came in sight. I was wonderin’ why he had been set free, that’s all.” Abe laughed incredulously as I made this explanation, which did not tend to improve my temper, therefore I turned squarely around on the thwart so that he might not be able to look into my eyes, and in so doing saw, much to my surprise, that the skiff which had been headed for New York, was now coming directly in our wake. Sam took note of the fact at the same moment, and cried shrilly: “It begins to look as if already was our mission discovered! Yonder Tories have it in mind to know where we are goin’.” Now it was Abel Grant’s turn to look disturbed, and he swung the tiller up ever so slightly, as he said half to himself: “I reckon we’re not in such a hurry that we can’t spend a few hours puttin’ them curs off the scent. There’s no question but that they are minded to know where we’re headin’ for, an’ we’ll run into Gowanus creek as if not countin’ on goin’ any further. I’m allowin’ though, that we’d better not try to put any of the stores ashore.” I was well content to consider Abel as the admiral, for I knew beyond a peradventure that he was a better leader than I could ever hope to be at a time like this, and to tell the truth, this seeming pursuit at the very outset, caused me to be more timorous than was decent in a commander of Minute Boys, even though his following numbered only three. The skiff followed until we swung around into Gowanus creek, and then the Tories lay back on their oars to see what we were about. “We’re needin’ a few clams for bait,” Abel Grant said as he gave word for the anchor to be dropped and the jib hauled down. “The tide don’t serve exceedin’ well for sich work, but fishermen must take what they can get an’ look pleasant about it. Into the punt, all three of you; I’ll keep ship.” We obeyed the order hurriedly, and Abel added in a low tone when he saw me looking over my shoulder at those in the skiff: “It’s clams you’re after, not Tories, lad. This is no time to let ’em see we’re suspicious, else we might as well have kept on through the Narrows.” During the next half-hour we labored with a will, as if our very existence depended upon getting the greatest amount of clams in the shortest possible space of time, and then Abel, who had for some time been standing in the stern-sheets gazing in the direction of the town, cried cheerily: