The neutral ground, extending from King's Bridge nearly to the Croton River, was swarming with Tories. It was the region of great manors, whose owners were loyalists, and their retainers were their political followers. It was a most uncomfortable dwelling-place for the comparatively few Whig inhabitants. It was infested with gangs of marauders, who were called "cow-boys." They were constantly stealing the cattle of the Whigs and driving them off to the British army in New York. The patriotic inhabitants, especially the young men, armed themselves in defense of their property. On the morning of Friday, the 23d of September (1780), seven young men, farmers and neighbors--John Paulding, Isaac Van Wart, David Williams, John Yerks and three others--were out on a scout together. They seem to have been a sort of guerrillas, acting independently in intercepting marauders and arresting suspicious-looking travelers. Paulding had been a prisoner in New York a short time before, and had escaped in the disguise of a Hessian coat which a friend had procured for him. This coat he now wore. Three of the four young men above named were playing cards in a thicket near the highway, half a mile from Tarrytown, at about nine o'clock in the morning, when a well-dressed horseman approached on a black steed. He was a stranger, and the young men concluded to stop him and inquire about his errand. Paulding, who was the leader of the little band, stepped out of the bushes with his musket, and ordered the traveler to halt and give an account of himself. Seeing Paulding with a British military coat on, and knowing that he was far below the American lines and nearer those of the British, the horseman said to the three young scouts: "My lads, I hope you belong to our party." "What party?" asked Paulding. "The lower party--the British." "We do," said Paulding. Completely thrown off his guard, the traveler exclaimed with much animation: "Thank God, I am once more among friends! I am a British officer, out in the country on particular business, and hope you will not detain me a minute." "We are Americans," said Paulding, seizing the bridle of the horse, "and you are our prisoner." The traveler was shocked, but, assuming composure, he said, "I must do anything to get along," and with apparent unconcern he pulled from his pocket Arnold's passport, which read: "Headquarters, Robinson's House, _September 22, 1780_. Permit Mr. John Anderson to pass the guards to the White Plains, or below if he chooses, he being on public business by my direction. "B. Arnold, _Major-General_." [Illustration: Head Quarters Robinsons House Sep.^t 22^d--1780 Permit M.r John Anderson to pass the Guards to the White Plains, or below if He Chooses, He being on Public Business by my Direction B. Arnold MGenl Arnold's Passport]