e clearly unmilitary, and might
be altogether useless."

"I have half a mind to scatter them with a volley"--said the captain,
doubtingly. "Bullets would take effect among those ploughmen, could
they only be made to hit."

"And amang the cattle, too," observed the Scotsman, who had an eye on
the more economical part of the movement, as well as on that which was
military. "A ball would slay a horse as well as a man in such a
skairmish."

"This is true enough, Jamie; and it is not exactly the sort of warfare
I could wish, to be firing at men who were so lately my friends. I do
not see, Joyce, that the rascals have any arms with them?"

"Not a musket, sir. I noticed that, when Joel first detailed his
detachments. Can it be possible that the savages have retired?"

"Not they; else would Mr. Strides and his friends have gone with them.
No, serjeant, there is a deep plan to lead us into some sort of ambush
in this affair, and we will be on the look-out for them."

Joyce stood contemplating the scene for some, time, in profound
silence, when he approached the captain formally, and made the usual
military salute; a ceremony he had punctiliously observed, on all
proper occasions, since the garrison might be said to be placed under
martial law.

"If it's your honour's pleasure," he said, "I will detail a detachment,
and go out and bring in two or three of these deserters; by which means
we shall get into their secrets."

"A detachment, Joyce!" answered the captain, eyeing his subordinate a
little curiously--"What troops do you propose to tell-off for the
service?"

"Why, your honour, there's corporal Allen and old Pliny off duty; I
think the thing might be done with them, if your honour would have the
condescension to order corporal Blodget, with the two other blacks, to
form as a supporting party, under the cover of one of the fences."

"A disposition of my force that would leave captain Willoughby for a
garrison! I thank you, serjeant, for your offer and gallantry, but
prudence will not permit it. We may set down Strides and his companions
as so many knaves, and----"

"That may ye!" cried Mike's well-known voice, from the scuttle that
opened into the garrets, directly in front of which the two old
soldiers were conversing--"That may ye, and no har-r-m done the trut',
or justice, or for that matther, meself. Och! If I had me will of the
blackguards, every rogue of 'em should be bound hand and fut and laid
under th