"But in the meanwhile Saul is lying in one of these wretched places a prisoner, even as is Horry Sims in old Mary's cabin," I cried bitterly. "True, Fitz, and we will hope that it is the worst which has befallen him; but how are matters to be mended by us who are much the same as prisoners ourselves? To go about making inquiries of any we chance to meet, would be the same as begging that we be arrested on whatsoever charge he lies under. It is what may be called the fortune of war, and you, and Saul, and I must show ourselves as Minute Boys should, by accepting whatever comes with the knowledge that we are aiding the Cause." "Valuable aid we have given the Cause by coming into this town and looking at two horses which were stolen!" I cried savagely, and Pierre added, again caressing my arm: "Don't forget that you succeeded in carrying a message which Morgan could not have delivered save at the cost of destroying his usefulness as a spy." "And yet that had nothing to do with Saul's arrest, if so be he is a prisoner." "Now you are unreasonable. Let us go back to the cabin and there wait until the Jerseyman comes. Whether the time be long or short, we by fretting and fuming cannot cut off a single minute. If remaining idle seems hard, remember, Fitz Hamilton, that by going ahead blindly we may make matters worse than they are now." Of course I realized that all Pierre had said was true. No fellow could listen to the little lad when he was talking so earnestly and imploringly, without understanding how much of sound sense was in that tiny body of his, and for at least the tenth time since we set out from the Hamilton plantation counting to call ourselves Minute Boys, did I resolve that in the future I would never make protest at any command he might give, but would fall in readily and cheerfully with every suggestion of his. He led me back to old Mary's cabin much as a nurse leads a petulant child, and when we neared the door I was like to have forgotten Saul's possible plight as the fear came over me that here might we have met with fresh disaster. It was a wondrous relief to enter the rude cabin and find Uncle 'Rasmus still seated in his invalid's chair, with Horry Sims lying at his feet, and in my joy and relief I clasped both the old negro's wrinkled hands so tightly that he cried out with pain. There was little need he should ask whether we had been successful in our search, because we had returned as we departed; but I could not refrain from acquainting him with our ill fortune by saying in a sorrowful tone: "We have neither heard nor seen anything of the dear lad, and it must be that the Britishers are holding him prisoner." "De Lawd's will be done, honey! De Lawd's will be done! Ef dat po' chile Saul hab fell inter de han's ob de Britishers, we'se boun' to set here sorrowin' widout liftin' a han' to help him."