Phil did not fall far, for the chasm was not deep. He rather slipped over the tops of some snow-crested bushes, his head hit a strong branch, which made him see stars for an instant, and then he came to a halt, nestled in the centre of intermingled bushes and vines. All sight of the upper world was now shut out, and the mysterious boy was blotted from view. Phil tried to right himself instantly. "Ouch!" he cried, as he seized a vine pendant from above. "Ouch! ouch!" he repeated, as he rustled about. Then he raised his voice loudly: "Andy! Andy! Help! Help!" "Halloa!" came ringing back to him. "Halloa!" nearer the responsive challenge echoed. Phil was content to sit still and await the arrival of help. He was in no pleasant position. The network of vines and bushes enclosing him seemed set everywhere with spiky thorns, so that to try to pull himself out of the pit would be to lacerate his hands and riddle his clothing. Finally there was the sound of violent breathing, and Andy Sabine leaned over the edge of the ravine and peered down. "So there you are!" remarked Andy grimly. "Yes, here I am," responded Phil, "and in no pleasant fix, I can tell you. Say, Andy, what of the boy?" "Oh, he's slipped us for good," announced Andy. "Last I saw of him he was running like a whitehead. He's got beyond the grove and out of sight, and shouldn't wonder if he was going yet. I thought I saw old Jasper Bram running after him through a break in the trees, but maybe I was mistaken. Anyhow, we won't catch him this time. Why don't you climb out?" Phil with a wry grimace explained why he did not climb out of the ravine. Andy went hunting for a long tree branch, lowered it, and Phil with a few scratches and rips in his clothing finally gained solid ground again. "Well, what are we going to do now?" he asked, with a sigh of relief. "Go after our guns and get back home, I reckon," replied Andy. Phil straightened out his disarranged clothing and picked some thorn points from his wrists. Then they started away from the spot together. "I say, Andy," observed Phil, after a thoughtful spell, "coming face to face with that fellow we chased, I find I know him." "Aha!" nodded Andy, looking curious, "is that so?" "Yes, it's been bothering me ever since the night he appeared at your barn. I got close to him just now." "Should say you did," smiled Andy. "And I recognized him all in a flash." "Who is he anyway?" "A Tory." "Well! well! Sure of it?" "I ought to be," asserted Phil, "no mistake about that breed of cats in old Boston town. There's mighty few Tory boys in Boston, for even when parents lean that way the young fellows side with us. So, when we found a boy a turncoat to the colonies, we just marked him." "As how, now?" inquired Andy.