Bang! Bang! Peters had pulled out his pistol, and two bullets, in quick succession, scattered the tan bark. CHAPTER XIII A SERIOUS DILEMMA "Hold on, I'm coming!" cried Andy quickly. He was, indeed, falling clear off the beam. He started a descent, grabbed at a dangling strip of tan bark, and dropped from its end dismayed and disordered looking. Some loose bark, debris, shoes, a cap and his coat rained down after him. "Who are you, anyhow?" demanded Swithins, striking an attitude of astonishment mingled with suspicion, and staring sharply at the lad. "Who is he?" cried Peters, with a dark scowl. "Ask me. I know. He's the boy who fetched me that blow back at the old cellar in Lowell." "What!" shouted Swithins, fairly bristling with suspicion. "Yes. I saw him as he ran. Where's the other? Where is he, I say?" demanded the fellow, advancing menacingly upon Andy. "Who else is up in that garret?" "Don't you see I'm alone?" inquired Andy doughtily, standing his ground and shielding his companion. "Alone, eh?" sneered Peters, pointing to the mass of debris at Andy's feet. "One boy don't wear three shoes, does he?" Andy saw it was no use trying to shield his comrade, for his own shoes and one belonging to Phil lay at his feet. The man Peters made a jump for the ladder and ascended it rapidly. With his shoulder he thrust open the scuttle, stuck in his pistol, and yelled: "This way and out of there, or I'll put this Tory bullet in your rebel hide!" Phil crept over the beams and a minute later stood in the room below. Peters eyed him with a wicked look as he reloaded his pistol. Swithins thrust both of the boys into the corner near the chimney, and seating himself viewed them with a threatening eye. "Right you are, Peters," he remarked. "No accidental meeting that with these fellows back at Lowell, message for Dr. Warren, planted here at our rendezvous. Regular spies, take my word for it--regular spies. Now then, what brought you to this place?" "Just happened here," declared Andy airily. "Tell that to the marines. Search them, Peters. Then we'll consider this case a little closer." Phil and Andy were forced to submit to the rough handling by Peters. The man emptied their pockets, inspecting their miscellaneous belongings critically. "Humph!" he remarked, as he found Andy's full name scratched on the German silver of his pocket knife. "Aha!" he added, as he glanced at the inside cover of Phil's memorandum book. "Swithins, this is a real catch. Now then, you two in turn answer the questions of this here court martial, or it will be the worse for you." "What makes it a court martial, if I may ask?" demanded Andy coolly. "Spying!" shouted Peters, with emphasis and a grewsome leer. "A spy is a hanged man when he is caught." "Sort of spies trying spies, eh?" laughed Andy irrepressibly. "Go on--you're joking!"