“O, spare me from that,” pleaded the abased supplicant, with redoubled earnestness. “Kill me on the spot, if you will; but spare me from that fate. Allow me to be delivered up as a prisoner of war, and I will consent to any thing--yield any thing you wish. I will ensure you, by my influence at the British camp, any advantage in a future exchange of prisoners you may ask; and----” “Peace! miserable craven!” interrupted Woodburn. “I could promise you no exemption, if I would, from a punishment which our exasperated people will justly say you have brought upon your own head.” “And I will also,” resumed Peters, encouraged by the somewhat softened tone, and slightly hesitating manner of the other--“I will also relinquish all claims, and forego all interference, in matters that may have stood in the way of your private interests and wishes.” “I will make no pledges, nor grant, nor receive any terms, at your dictation, sir,” said the former, haughtily. “I will trust to your magnanimity to a fallen foe,” then, rejoined Peters, rightly appreciating, for once, the character of his conqueror. “Here, take this,” he continued, drawing a carefully-preserved document from his pocket, and extending it towards the other--“take it, and deliver it to the one whom it most concerns. Tell her it was voluntarily relinquished, and that I will trouble her no more.” As small as was the measure of credit which Woodburn's judgment told him should be accorded to the motives prompting this unexpected course in his old enemy, it nevertheless quickly banished every vindictive feeling from his generous bosom; and after a momentary hesitation, he took the proffered document, glanced at its contents, and silently deposited it among his other papers. But soon growing jealous of himself lest he should compromit the policy which his superiors might deem it just and wise, under the sanction of the stern rules of war, to enforce, he restrained himself from making any immediate reply. And, the next moment, he was relieved from what apparent necessity there might be for so doing, by the approach of the first of the returning Rangers. “Where is your prisoner, Piper?” he asked, turning to the latter, now coming up. “He would not be taken alive, sir; and the order was to let none escape in that condition,” replied the broad-chested subaltern with a significant look. “In order, then, that you go not home empty-handed,” rejoined Woodburn, “I will give you charge of _my_ prisoner, Colonel Peters here, whom you will conduct to Bennington Meeting-House, whither the prisoners of the day were ordered, and whence you will deliver him to the officer in command as a prisoner of war--at least for the present; for any doubt that may arise about his final disposal can be settled hereafter.”