“Lead on, Master Morris!” commanded the officer. “You know the way by night better than I.” “But there are only four of us,” began Hadley, doubtfully. “We can wait for no more if what you have told me is true. They will be attacking the old man by now.” The quartette rode off at a gallop and little was said until they turned into the farm path which led through the pastures and fields to the Morris homestead. Then the neighbor was riding nearest Hadley’s side and he whispered: “Hey, Morris, suppose this should be a trap? Suppose the Britisher should be playing us false?” Hadley tapped the butt of the pistol beneath his coat. “Then he’ll get what’s in this first--and do you take William,” the boy whispered. “But I do not believe Colonel Knowles will play us false. These Tory blackguards are nothing to him.” The ring of the horses’ hoofs announced their coming before they were within shot of the house, around which the rascals under Brace Alwood had assembled. But no shots were fired, for Colonel Knowles was ahead and his mount was recognized by Lon in the light of the huge bonfire which had been built in front of the farmer’s door. Part of the Tories were already inside the house, ransacking the dwelling from cellar to garret, while Ephraim was tied hard and fast to one of his own chairs, and Brace Alwood, with cruel delight in the farmer’s terror, was threatening to hold the old man’s feet in the flames on the hearth if he did not divulge the hiding place of his gold. Colonel Knowles’ coming struck the entire party of marauders dumb. “What are you doing here, you scoundrels?” exclaimed the officer, almost riding into the farmhouse in his rage, and laying about him with the riding whip he carried. The men shrank away in confusion. Even Brace Alwood, the bully, was cowed. “The old miser’s got more money than is good for him,” whined Alwood. “And his nephew is off with the rebels--” “Sirrah!” exclaimed the colonel, sharply. “Here is his nephew with me. And it matters not what his nephew may be, in any case; the man himself is for King George, God bless him!--or so I understand.” “Yes, yes, Master!” squealed the farmer from the chair where he was tied. “I am for the king. I told these villains I was for the king. It is an outrage. I cannot help what my rascally nephew is--I am loyal.” “And as for his money,” continued the colonel, savagely, “you’d work hard and long before you got any of it--and what you got would likely not be his, but belong to those whom he has robbed!” At that Uncle Ephraim recognized his rescuer, and he relapsed into frightened silence. “Come out of that house and go about your business!” commanded the officer. “Let me not find any of you in this neighborhood in the morning; and think not I shall forget this escapade. Your colonel shall hear of it, Alwood.”