king after
them. Then I turned to my own room, and, throwing myself on the bed,
I slept the sleep of exhaustion for many hours.

When the hour of my awakening came I sprang up, for there lay the
despatch which I was to bear to the Council of Safety.

Drawing on my riding-boots and buckling on my sword, I called John
Cotton to bring my horse to the door, for several miles lay between
Fairlee and Rock Hall, where the boat lay to take me to Annapolis.

I walked across to the hall and on to the old porch, where I saw
Mistress Jean standing, gazing wistfully out on the broad bay.

"He is safe now, Mistress Jean."

"Yes," she said with a sad smile, "but when shall I ever see him
again?"

"Just as soon as we whip them," I replied.

"Then it will never be," came her retort.

"Oh, ho! What will your uncle, Captain Nicholson, say when he finds he
has such a fiery little Tory in his house? He will have to give up
chasing the redcoats to suppress the Goddess of Sedition in his own
camp."

But at this Mistress Jean gave her head a toss and walked away to the
end of the porch.

Then John Cotton brought the horse to the steps.

"Are you going so soon, Mr. Frisby?"

"I must," I answered; "I am a bearer of despatches to the Council of
Safety. I would gladly desert my trust to be your escort to
Chestertown, but--"

"The honour of the House of Fairlee stands in the way," said she
mockingly.

"Not that, my lady," I replied, bowing courteously, "but the fact that
I would fall even lower in your good graces."

"Well said, cavalier," she retorted, with a sweeping courtesy. "'Tis a
pity that so fine a gentleman should be a rebel."

"Or so fair a maid a Tory."

"Is this a minuet?" came the laughing voice of my mother from the
door.

"Nay, mother, I am only bidding Mistress Jean good-bye with all due
ceremony."

A few moments later I was in the saddle, trotting slowly off, while
behind me fluttered their handkerchiefs, waving good-bye.

Rock Hall lies on a bluff, looking out across the bay. To the
southward lies the Isle of Kent, with its fertile fields of waving
grain, and off there on the horizon the greenish ribbon near the sky
line tells where the hills of Anne Arundel lay.

Down below, under the bluff, lay a long, slender boat, shaped like a
canoe, but much larger, stouter, stronger, and far swifter, when the
wind filled its sails and carried it like a bird skimming over the
waters.

"An English man-of-war is