ened report from the direction of the village, then another and
another; and, spite of the adverse breeze, a quavering, gentle,
sustained sound, scarce more than a vibration, that hung persistently
in the air.

"By God!" gasped Elerson, "it's the bell at the jail! The enemy are
here! Pull foot, sir! Our time has come!"

Down the slope we ran, headed straight for the village. Gunshots now
sounded distinctly from the direction of the Court-House; and around
us, throughout the whole country, guns popped at intervals, sometimes a
single distant report, then a quick succession of shots, like hunters
shooting partridges; but we heard as yet no volley-firing.

"Tories and scalpers harrying the outlying farms," breathed Elerson.
"Look sharp, sir! We're close to the village, and it's full o' Tories."

Right ahead of us stood a white house; and, as we crossed the hay-field
behind it, a man came to the back door, leveled a musket, and
deliberately shot at us. Instantly, and before he could spring back,
Elerson threw up his rifle and fired, knocking the man headlong through
the doorway.

"The impudent son of a slut!" he muttered to himself, coolly reloading.
"Count one more Tory in hell, Davy, lad!"

Priming, his restless eyes searched the road-hedge ahead, then, ready
once more, we broke into a trot, scrambled through the fence, and
started down the road, which had already become a village street. It
was fairly swarming with men running and dodging about.

The first thing I saw clearly was a dead woman lying across a
horse-block. Then I saw a constable named Hugh McMonts running down the
street, chased closely by two Indians and a soldier wearing a green
uniform. They caught him as we fired, and murdered him in a doorway
with hatchet and gun-stock, spattering everything with the poor
wretch's brains.

Our impulsive and useless shots had instantly drawn the fire of three
red-coated soldiers; and, as the big bullets whistled around us,
Elerson grasped my arm, pulled me back, and darted behind a barn.
Through a garden we ran, not stopping to load, through another
barnyard, scattering the chickens into frantic flight, then out along a
stony way, our ears ringing with the harsh din of the jail bell.

"There's the jail; run for it!" panted Elerson, as we came in sight of
the solid stone structure, rising behind its palisades on the high
ground.

I sprang across the road and up the slope, battering at the barricaded
palings