“Arrah, come down wid ye and open the door,” requested Longsword with great promptness. “And have myself killed for my trouble,” said the man at the window. “Ye’ll get yourself killed if you don’t do as you’re told, my friend,” said Longsword with a reckless flourish of his empty pistol. The man withdrew his head with a jerk; and though they continued to call to him, he refused to show himself. “Down with the door,” cried Ethan at last. And putting their shoulders to it they sent it crashing inward. There now came a perfect storm of screams and yells from the regions above. They found themselves in a room in which a sea coal fire was burning; after a short search Ethan found a couple of fat pine billets which he stuck partly into the fire. While they awaited such time as the torches should ignite, they stood in the broken doorway and looked earnestly toward the town. The noises from the rooms above had died away; and now a long, low murmur as of many voices was carried to their ears by the wind, which was toward the harbor. With each moment the sound increased in volume; it would rise sharply and then fall away, only to rise once more. “The town is up, sure enough,” said Longsword, grimly. “Freeman has lost no time.” Once more the murmur of the distant voices rose and fell; it had a fierce intensity that came awesomely to the listeners as they shivered in the chill of that spring morning. From far down the street a huddle of people swept around a corner; in their hands they bore all sorts of hastily snatched weapons; and by their gesticulations Ethan saw that they were wrought up to a pitch of frenzy. “We have no time to waste,” said the young American, rapidly. “In a few moments more they will be here.” He ran into the room and snatched the torches from the coals; the ends were smoldering only, but he swung them about his head a few times and they burst into a blaze. “Now we are ready,” he cried. In a moment they were out in the road. The shrill cries of the advancing townspeople sounded fiercer still; the heavy tramp of their feet was swift and menacing. “They mean business, sure,” cried Longsword. “Look out!” Two or three bullets struck near them and the vengeful cries increased. From the window of the inn the landlord was clamoring at the top of his lusty voice. “Come on,” shouted Ethan to the Irishman as he darted down the road. Longsword followed close at his heels; now and then he flourished his empty pistol and defied the crowd mutely. John Paul Jones was awaiting them eagerly. “Hah! You have the lights. Good! But what is that noise I hear? You have injured none of the folks at the house, I hope.” “No,” answered Ethan. “Freeman, the sailor whom we took with us, slipped into the town and aroused the people. They are coming in crowds.” A frown wrinkled the commander’s brow.