“You know how few are the chances that we shall come back into this stockade alive?” I ventured to ask, and he replied promptly: “Ay, even as well as you, Jonathan Ogden, and yet would I go, for death were better, as I look at the matter, than remaining here idle, knowing what is being done yonder.” “What is it you speak of in which death seems so certain?” Daniel Hinchman asked, as he came up hurriedly, and I would have held my peace, but Giles March must needs explain to him what I proposed to do. “And who will go with you, Jonathan Ogden?” Daniel asked. “I am going,” Giles said, before it was possible for me to make reply. “Then you shall count me in also. It would be the least I could do, after this company of lads has saved my sister from a doom even worse than that which you say probably awaits those who went out hunting.” Again I would have protested; but Master Bartlett, laying his hand heavily on my shoulder, said gravely: “Haven’t they as good right as you to risk life in the hope of aiding a comrade? Now you have the two you asked for, and, if it still be in your mind to go out on what I shall count a hopeless task, then let me beg you do it secretly, allowing no person inside this enclosure, save only Stephen Morley and myself, to know that the force has been weakened by seven.” “How seven?” I asked, with irritation. “The four hunters and you three, for there is no more chance one will return than the other.” Leaping down from the stockade, I began hurriedly to make my preparations, for however determined I was to sally forth, such talk as Master Bartlett was indulging in could have no other effect than that of making me for the moment faint-hearted, and surely just then I had need of all the courage which could be summoned. I would take with me nothing save my musket and ammunition; every garment that could be dispensed with should be left behind, lest it impede me in the short journey which must be made as silently as death, and Giles and Daniel followed my example, until we stood in little more clothing than was indulged in by those fiends whom we hoped to kill. While this was being done, Master Bartlett held a whispered conversation with Stephen Morley, after which the old man said: “If you go out through the gate, lads, one or more of the company will know your purpose, therefore I propose that you let yourselves down from the top of the stockade at whatsoever point seems best to you, and, although we dare not hope you may return, both Stephen Morley and I will stand here on watch, ready to open the small gate when we see you coming, or to summon the rest of the company to shoot down those who may be pursuing.” “As well go from here as anywhere?” I said to Giles, pointing just above our heads, and he nodded. Master Bartlett gripped each of us by the hand in turn, and thus we climbed up, swinging ourselves over the top of the stockade and dropping down on the outside.