"Your name is Sabine," said the man. "Swithins, this boy must be the son of the rank agitator we've got on our Concord list." "Right enough," responded Andy with pride, "if you mean the kind of agitator who has over two hundred armed patriots at his call the minute a redcoat sticks his nose out of Boston Town." "Oh, you can't get me wrathy, with all your bold sauce, young jackanapes," chuckled Peters. "You won't crow so loud, my young bantam, when they come to wring your neck for this smart spy act of yours. It's all right," he added to his companion. "T'other one is Warrington. He's a son of that rich merchant in Boston who wouldn't sell our people supplies. Why, this catch is almost as good as Warren himself. I think Gage will know how to handle things with sons of two rebel leaders as prisoners." "Yes," observed Swithins, with a calculating expression in his eye, "and I fancy those two old rebels would pay a fancy price to ransom these boys. Come here, I've a private word for your ear." The two men went to a remote corner of the room and indulged in a serious, low-toned conversation. Phil caught an occasional word, such as "rebels," "spies," "confess," "ransom," "the ship _Vixen_," and the like. It was easy to surmise the plan of the two men. They intended to make capital out of their capture in some way. Peters finally approached the boys, his reloaded pistol in one hand, while Swithins, as if by concerted arrangement, went out into the shed. The former tried to impress and scare the boys by trying to appear dangerous, but Phil and Andy only looked tranquilly interested. "I pronounce you two, prisoners of his royal majesty, King George," observed Peters grandiloquently, and with a swagger. "That sounds real big," observed Andy. "We have decided to turn you over to the government, as you are spies," continued Peters, "and as such by the law of nations are placed in the desperate cat--cata--" "Catalogue," prompted Andy recklessly. "Yes, catalogue. No, no," dissented the speaker with a scowl--"gory,--category. We shall shoot at first attempt to escape." "All right," piped Andy cheerily. "You are having all the fun just now, but when the real trouble begins, somebody will be looking hard for us and--you." Phil had not spoken. He was more thoughtful than Andy. He did not for a moment believe that they were in any serious danger. They might be kept for a time in the hands of these men, but when they found there was nothing of importance to be learned they would be set free. For all this Phil very gravely realized that things were working along the line of war, as Old Silas Berks had said. Every step in their recent progress, Phil discerned, showed more and more clearly that a crisis was near. It needed but a spark to set the whole country aflame. They had helped in their humble way, he and Andy, to upset some of the plans of the British. He hoped that their further possible usefulness might be tested when the war broke out.