The Britishers must have walked more rapidly than we fancied, for when finally we were come within view of my home, we saw riding out from the stable-yard, each man mounted and more than one with a led-horse by his side, all the company that had passed us on the road, and the animals which they rode and led were horses belonging to my father! Yea, among them Saul's mare and my own favorite colt, which I cherished as the dearest thing on earth next to my mother! "What does it mean?" I cried, speaking with difficulty because of that seeming lump in my throat, and little Frenchie, shrugging his shoulders in a manner that set every nerve in my body aquiver, replied as if it was a matter of small moment: "They have been to the Hamilton plantation in order to get mounts for the officers of my Lord Cornwallis's army, and from this on your colt will carry a burly Englishman bedecked with gilt lace and red cloth, instead of the lad who loves her so dearly." CHAPTER II SILVER HEELS It was for a moment as if I could scarcely credit my senses. The idea that any one, even those belonging to the plantation, should bestride my own colt, my little Silver Heels, as I had named her! She had been given to me when a baby, and no hand save mine had touched her, except when some of the negroes would rub her coat to silken glossiness in order to curry favor with me. Now she was being ridden and roughly handled by a red-faced private of Simcoe's Queen's Rangers! When my surprise had given way to anger, which it did within a very few seconds, I would have run swiftly forward, claiming my own Silver Heels, and defying, if needs be, all that company of red-coats, for the rage in my heart was so great that I had no thought of prudence nor of my inability to cope even with a single one of those Rangers; but that Pierre, seizing me firmly by the arm, actually dragged me amid the foliage where we might be screened from view, for the men--the thieves, I should say, were by this time riding directly toward us. "Have you lost your wits entirely?" Pierre whispered angrily, and forgetting to shrug his shoulders. "Of what avail for you to demand your Silver Heels when the king's officers would have her for their own? Do you count on being carried to the guard-house at York Town as a malcontent, or even worse, a dangerous rebel?" "I care not where they carry me, so I take Silver Heels from yon brute that is bestride her!" "And how will you take her?" little Frenchie whispered, this time shrugging his shoulders and waving his hands, I having so far obeyed him as to be standing by his side beneath the shelter of leaves. "Do you fancy that after Colonel Simcoe's men have seized a likely lot of horse-flesh, a lad such as you may wrest from them their spoils?" "But Silver Heels is my own, my very own! No one, not even the king himself, has the right to take her!" I cried in my folly.