Purdy and Ormsbee now made a simultaneous movement in the bushes, on the different sides of the road, by stepping about, hitting their guns against the trees, and thrusting out the muzzles at various openings towards the enemy; while, at the same time, the clicking sounds, as of the irregular cocking of a dozen muskets, with as many distinct movements of men, apparently, were heard in the direction of Bart's concealment in front. “Stand to your arms!” exclaimed Rose, to his men, who now began to show signs of fear and uneasiness. “Don't all take aim at the captain, you fools!” shouted Bart, from his covert, to his men of straw; “don't do that, I tell you! There's enough of 'em to furnish each of you a separate mark, nearly. There, that looks more like it! All cocked and ready?” “Hold up there, Sergeant Burt!” cried Barney; “don't fire yet. Let us spare their lives if we can. Purdy,” he continued, turning to the man concealed on his right, “you may give the signal, now, for the reserve platoons, in front and rear, to advance, and close up on the road. The minute is nearly out, and I perceive we have got to make a demonstration before they will surrender.” The signal howl was then accordingly given, and, to the great joy of the assailants, immediately answered by Pettibone, who, having reached his destination in the rear of the house, and seen the tories decamping, was now, with another man, cautiously advancing towards the scene of action in the wood; while nearly at the same moment, as it strangely happened, the sharp reports of three pistols, fired in quick succession, rang through the forest a short distance on the road to the north. The noise of fire-arms which, to the assailants, portended a rencounter between Peters and Woodburn, and filled them with anxiety for the fate of the latter, was token by the tories as an answer of the signal from the pretended corps in front, and so completed their dismay that some of them threw down their arms, and began to cry out for quarter. “The minute is out; shall we fire, Captain Barney?” exclaimed Bart, in a tone of impatience. “Your answer, Captain Rose,” sternly demanded Barney--“your answer this instant, or----” “I yield,” said the reluctant tory leader--“We surrender ourselves prisoners of war.” “'Tis well, sir,” responded the former. “Lay down your arms, then, here in the road, advance twenty paces, and wait further orders.” While this order, which was thus given for the double purpose of enabling the victors to get between the tories and their guns, and to give time for Pettibone and his associate to come up, was being carried into effect, Bart, who had been burning with impatience for a chance to go to the assistance of his endangered friend. Woodburn, slunk noiselessly from his post, and made his way, with all possible speed, towards the spot from whence the noise of the firing appeared to proceed.