A small band, who had gathered in the yard of what was called the People's Tavern, were listening, with many a demonstration of horror and indignation, to the account of one who had escaped from the Court House after the tories had got possession. “Where are our leaders, Morris?” asked one of the listeners, as the speaker, a fluent, energetic young man, closed his recital of the atrocities he had witnessed. “Did they escape, or are they among the wounded and prisoners?” “Wright and Carpenter had gone off before we were attacked,” was the reply, “the rest, not among the wounded I have named escaped in the confusion, I think, except Dr. Jones, of Buckingham, who was driven into the felon's hole with other prisoners; and it may be well that he was, perhaps, as those bloodthirsty brutes would have suffered no surgeon to be sent for to attend those who are not past help.” “And Tom Dunning, whose rifle we shall need,--what became of him?” “He got out in the same manner I did. We stood in a dark corner, at the head of the stairs, taking note of the proceedings below; when that crafty little chap, that joined us from Brush's, came wriggling like an eel out from between the legs of the crowding tories, in the passage; and, working himself up stairs unnoticed, in the same way, beckoned us to follow him, as we did, into the court-room, where, at his suggestion, we stripped off the sheets of a bed, in one of those corner sleeping cuddies, made a rope, and by it let ourselves down through a window to the ground in the rear of the house; when we separated, Dunning going home, as he said, to arm himself. But here he comes,” added the speaker, peering out towards the street, from which several forms were dimly seen approaching--“here he comes, and those just behind him I should judge to be Carpenter and Fletcher, by their gait.” “Well, Dunning,” asked one of the company, as the hunter came striding up to the spot, “what is your response to all this?” “Der-sixty bullets, and a--ditter--pound of powder!” was the stern and significant reply of the other, as with one hand he struck his rattling bullet-pouch and huge powder-horn, and with the other brought down the breech of his rifle with a heavy blow upon the ground. “That's the man for me!” exclaimed Fletcher, now coming up with Carpenter. “Ay, Dunning is right!” said Carpenter, with emphasis. “If we hold our peace now, the very stones will cry out for vengeance. But talking is only a small part of what must be done. We must act. And first of all, this tale of murder and outrage must instantly be thrown upon the four winds of heaven, and carried into every town in this part of the settlement. Who will volunteer to ride express with the news?--news which, if I know anything of the spirit of the great mass of our people, will be taken as a call to arms, and responded to accordingly.” Several eager voices announced their readiness to start off at once on the proposed mission.