“I might have tried to use it again,” she said with a little laugh, “but I confess I did not know how to reload it.” She handed me the pistol with a gesture of repulsion as if she were glad to get rid of it. Her frankness changed my purpose somewhat, and I asked her how her mother fared. “Very well, but in most dreadful alarm because of the fighting,” she replied. “It would be best for both of you, for your own safety, to remain in the house and keep the windows closed,” I said. “So I think,” she replied. I turned away, for I wished to think further what disposition to make of Kate Van Auken and her mother. It seemed that they should remain no longer at such a critical point of our line, where in an unwatched moment they might do us a great evil. Moreover, I was much inflamed against Kate because of the treacherous shot which had come so near to ending Whitestone’s career. But even then I sought for some mitigating circumstance, some excuse for her. Perhaps her family had so long worked upon her that her own natural and patriotic feelings had become perverted to such an extent that she looked upon the shot as a righteous deed. Cases like it were not new. I thought it best to take Whitestone into my confidence. “We can not do anything to-day,” he said, “for none of us can leave here; but it would be well to keep a good watch upon that house again to-night.” This advice seemed good, for like as not Kate Van Auken, not at all daunted by her failure, would make another attempt to escape southward. Therefore with much interest I waited the coming of our second night there, which was but a brief time away. CHAPTER IV. OUT OF THE HOUSE. The night came on and I was uneasy. Many things disturbed me. The house was a sore spot in my mind, and with the dusk the signs of battle seemed to increase. Upon this dark background the flashes from the skirmishing grew in size and intensity. From under the horizon’s rim came the deep murmur of the artillery. I knew that Burgoyne was feeling his way, and more than ever it was impressed upon me that either he would break out soon or we would close in upon him and crush him. The faint pop-pop of the distant rifles was like the crackling that precedes the conflagration. To the south there was peace, apparent peace, but I knew Burgoyne must turn his face hopefully many a time that way, for if rescue came at all it must come thence. “Another day nearer the shutting of the trap,” said Whitestone, walking up and down with his arm in a sling. I found that he could manage his pipe as well with one hand as with two. The night was darker than usual, for which I was sorry, as it was against us and in favor of the others. Again asking Whitestone to stand sponsor for the hollow, I approached the house. I had repeated my precautions of the day before, placing one sentinel in front of it and another behind it. But in the darkness two men could be passed, and I would watch with them.