en they were either returning to their sand caves in
Monmouth County after a raid, or else were starting forth on some new
project near at hand. Whichever was true, Elmhurst lay in the direction
taken. Determined to learn the truth, and wishing now I had more men at
my back, we pressed forward, riding rapidly, yet exercising the
precaution of keeping two scouts well in advance. It must have been
nearly three o'clock when we reached the summit of the low hill within a
few hundred yards of the house, and found the two scouts awaiting us.

My first glance across the ravine revealed the outlines of the house
above the low trees of the orchard. All appeared peaceable enough, and I
felt a sudden relief. There were lights burning on the lower floor,
streaming through several windows, while up stairs one window was ablaze.
Late as it was, this illumination was not surprising, however, as the
care of the wounded man would necessitate night watchers, while, no
doubt, Claire would anticipate my reaching there before morning. All this
flashed over me, as my eyes hastily surveyed the familiar surroundings.
Then I became aware that the older scout was reporting.

"There's quite a bunch of horses picketed down there in the ravine, sir,"
he said, pointing toward the right.

"How many?"

"Oh, maybe twenty-five or thirty; Joe an' I couldn't get very close as
there's a couple of men on guard on top of the bank. A hundred feet down
you can see 'em plain against the sky."

"Wasn't what you saw a cattle herd?"

"No, sir," positively. "They're horses, picketed in line like a cavalry
troop, and they've got their saddles on."

What this all meant could not be guessed at, but there must be some
scheme of deviltry under way. There were no regular troops hereabout
belonging to either army, yet the very condition of the country left an
open field for the operation of outlaws. Arnold had barely men enough to
garrison Philadelphia; Washington was facing Clinton; the militia had
been withdrawn, and all this section left entirely unguarded. It was the
very moment for Fagin and his kind to carry on their work of murder and
pillage.

"Have either of you crossed the ravine?" I asked, endeavoring to reach
some conclusion.

"Yes, sir, Joe did. He was up in the edge of the orchard."

"See any men?"

"Not a man, sir, outside," answered the other. "But I saw shadows against
the curtains on that lower floor. I couldn't tell how many; they just
com