"Did you hear me?" repeated the redcoat wrathfully. "Row faster." "Not an inch," said Ralph, quietly but forcibly. He dropped the oars as he spoke, and sitting erect folded his arms and faced the soldier like a statue. "Andy," he whispered sideways, "there's the old pistol in my belt behind, get it. I'll make a spring." And Ralph moved slightly forward, and managed to touch Phil with his foot as a hint that they were up to something. The redcoat uttered a wicked snarl. He raised his musket, and the boys heard an ominous click. "Dodge! duck!" shouted Andy excitedly. "The ruffian is going to massacre us!" Bang! Sure enough the gun went off, but up in the air. The astonished boys saw the weapon fly up from the hands of the enraged soldier. It came down in the middle of the boat, striking Ralph. What was more wonderful, though, was that accompanying this maneuver. The redcoat performed a series of gyrations that reminded Phil of a man who had been kicked off a horse in a somersault circle. The soldier shot clear back off the boat, arms and feet sawing the air. He uttered a curdling yell, but its echoes gurgled down to a gasp as he went under the surface of the water with the dexterity of a practised acrobat. Next, there sprang over the stern a dripping but agile figure. "The Indian,--Old Sachem!" exclaimed Andy. "Don't!"--began Andy, in a horrified tone. There passed before the boys a rapid, tragic spectacle. They could readily surmise what had transpired--the Indian had followed them from the swamp. Whatever his motive to guard them, to try and do them a good turn for their kindness to him or on the trail of his enemies, seeking revenge, it was evidently Sachem, as he was generally nicknamed, who had been lurking around the old mill and later upon the course they had followed. Sachem must have swum after the boat, and at the right moment had pulled back the redcoat. Now, seating himself at the stern, he reached back and grabbed out. His wiry fingers were clenched in the bushy whiskers of the Tory. Sweeping his other hand towards them holding a keen-bladed knife, he "scalped" the redcoat's luxurious whiskers. With a laugh of derision he tossed the handful of hair into the face of the yelling victim, gave him a hard slap on the face and then a push that sent the redcoat swimming for shore, probably more scared that he had ever been before in his life. The whole incident had been so rapid, tragical and finally grotesque, that Andy broke out into a great laugh. It was quickly subdued. Through the gloom from some near boat came a startling challenge: "Who is there?" Instantly Ralph grabbed the oars. There was no doubt but that the British were crossing over from Boston. The shore was near at hand. All saw that they must promptly reach it or drive straight into a new dilemma.