The sentence was stifled on the lad's lips, and he very nearly uttered a sharp cry. For just then, under one of the shuttered windows of the house, he saw a flash of yellow light. It was visible for a few seconds, and then it vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.

Nathan felt a cold shiver run down his back. "Did I imagine that light?"

he asked himself, "or is there some one in the house?"

The next instant he was crouching low behind the fence, every nerve quivering with excitement, and his musket trembling in his hands. He had made another startling discovery, and one that was too real to be doubted. The dark figure of a man was approaching the rear of the house from the direction of the American lines, and it was only too evident that he was not one of Corporal Dubbs's sentries. On he came through the drifted snow, stepping quickly but stealthily, and turning his head from right to left.

Nathan aimed his musket through the fence. "A spy!" he muttered. "He's just been to the camp! Shall I shoot?" putting his finger to the trigger. "No, I have a better plan. He's going to the house, and there he'll be trapped."

The lad was right. A moment later the crouching figure had gained the rear wall and was lost to sight. A door was heard to softly open and close.

Nathan watched and listened in vain. For half a minute he hesitated.

Should he hurry off to bring Barnabas, or should he first endeavor to learn who was in the house? The thought that he might, after all, be mistaken decided him. Holding his musket ready for instant use he lightly scaled the fence, and waded through the snow to the side wall of the house. He crept to the rear angle, cautiously peeped around, and then boldly turned it. A few steps brought him to the door, and he discovered it was open a few inches. The wind had evidently done this, the latch having failed to drop into its socket.

Nathan stood at attention, outwardly cool and alert in spite of his inward excitement. All was black behind the crevice, but he could hear faint voices at a distance. The temptation was too strong to be resisted, and with a sudden impulse he carefully pushed the door farther open and stepped into what seemed to be a wide hall. Looking to the left he saw another door. This also was open an inch or two, and in the lighted room to which it led two persons were talking in low and eager tones.

"I've got to find out who's in there," the lad resolved. Holding his gun in front of him he advanced with a cat-like tread. Happily the bare floor did not creak under him, and his ragged shoes were so full of snow that they made no noise. He reached the door, halted, and peered anxiously through the crack.

What he saw was a small room, scantily furnished with a bed, two chairs, and a table. A lamp was burning dimly on a shelf, and every crevice of the one window was stuffed with rags to keep the light from showing outside--a precaution that had not been entirely successful.

In the chair beside the table sat a bearded, harsh-looking man, who could be none other than Abner Wilkinson himself; he was wrapped in a heavy cloak and held a hat in his hand. Near by stood the man who had just entered the house. He was young and smooth-shaven, with a handsome but sinister countenance. He was hurriedly exchanging his snowy and wet garments for a uniform of green faced with white--the uniform, as Nathan well knew, of the Tory soldiers of the British army.

The lad saw all this at a brief glance, and then he listened keenly to the conversation. "I wouldn't have done what you did for a king's ransom," Abner Wilkinson was saying. "Man, you took your life in your hands--"

"But I got what I wanted," the other interrupted, calmly, "and now that I have them safe we had better be off at once. There's no telling what will happen if the loss is discovered, as it may be at any moment."

"It's a bad night to travel on foot," said Abner Wilkinson. "Don't you think we might wait till morning? There's no danger of your being traced here, for the snow will cover your footsteps--"

"But not right away. I tell you we're in danger, and the sooner we start the better. Have you got those other papers ready?"

"Yes, Captain," the Tory farmer answered; and he stepped toward a closet at the end of the room.

Out in the dark hall Nathan trembled with excitement. "They have papers," he said to himself, "and the one in uniform has been spying in our lines. They mustn't get away."

Just then Abner Wilkinson turned around from the closet, holding a packet in his hand. "Here they are, Captain," he said.

"Put them in your pocket," replied the officer. "They may be as important as those I have. Are you ready to start? We'll go as soon as Mawhood comes back. I'm beginning to feel worried about him."

"Oh, he'll be in presently," said Wilkinson, "unless he's lost his bearings in the storm--"

Nathan trembled with sudden fear, missing the rest of the sentence.

"There's another spy," he reflected, "and he's outside somewhere. These two are waiting for him. Whew! what a sc.r.a.pe I'm in! There's no time to lose if I want to get away."

He turned cautiously around to retreat, and even as he did so the floor creaked and he saw a dark object between himself and the outer door. The next instant, as he made a headlong dash for liberty, a strong arm encircled him and a hand clutched his throat. The lad's musket fell with a crash, and he struggled hard to break loose. But his efforts were futile. In less time than it takes to tell he was dragged, bruised and half-choked, into the room. Abner Wilkinson was trembling with fright in a far corner, and the officer had drawn a sword and a pistol. With an oath he reached for the lamp, evidently intending to blow it out.

"Stop, sir; you needn't do that," cried Nathan's captor, who was a burly Britisher in plain dress. "There's only one of 'em, and I've got him safe. He must have crept into the house a bit ago, for he was listening at yonder door when I spied him." He released the lad's throat, and held him out at arm's length.

The officer glared at Nathan. "Are you sure there are no more, Mawhood?"

he demanded hoa.r.s.ely.

"Quite sure, Captain," the man replied. "There's a party of rebels removing the grain from Troup's farm back across the hill, and this chap was posted here as an advance picket. There are no others in the neighborhood, for I've been all around the house. But I would advise getting away just as quick as possible--"

"Yes, yes, let's start at once!" interrupted Abner Wilkinson, who was pale with fright. "We will be hung if we are caught."

"We must attend to the prisoner first," said the officer. "Who are you?"

he added to the lad. "Why did you come in here?"

Nathan tightened his lips and made no reply.

"Do you hear?" thundered the officer. "Answer my questions! Were you listening at the door while we talked? Are any more of your rebel friends posted in the neighborhood?"

"I won't tell you, sir," the lad replied firmly.

"You won't?" cried the officer. "Well, if you did it wouldn't help you any now. I'm going to hang you, my fine fellow."

"Yes, hang the dog," exclaimed the Tory farmer. "I'll show you how." He darted to the closet and produced a coil of heavy rope. The soldier quickly seized this in obedience to a signal from his officer, threw one end over a thick beam of the ceiling, and deftly looped the other end.

Swish! the fatal noose settled on Nathan's neck, and was tightened by a jerk.

The lad stood firm, but in a few seconds a thousand thoughts seemed to flit through his throbbing brain. He thought of Philadelphia, of Cornelius De Vries, of his father lying sick in the hospital--of all his past life. He realized that there was no hope for him. Even should he shout, Barnabas and the other sentries were too far away to hear him.

Mawhood stood face to face with Nathan at a distance of a couple of feet. The end of the rope was twisted in both his hands, and the officer was close alongside of him. The latter pulled out a watch. "I'll give you twenty seconds to pray," he said, "and then up you go."

"Don't murder me," Nathan begged hoa.r.s.ely. "I've done nothing to deserve death."

"You're a dog of a rebel," was the brutal answer, "and that's enough.

Ten seconds gone."

The lad glanced at the mocking and merciless faces of his enemies, hardly realizing his doom, and then a ray of hope flashed suddenly to his bewildered brain. His hands had fortunately been left untied, and as he saw a huge pistol protruding from the soldier's belt decision and action were almost simultaneous. A rapid s.n.a.t.c.h, and the barrel of the weapon was between his fingers. As quickly the b.u.t.t crushed with stunning force on Mawhood's temple, and over he went like a log, the rope slipping from his nerveless fingers.

Back Nathan sprang with a shout, and reversing and c.o.c.king the pistol he turned it on the officer. The latter already had his own pistol out and leveled, but when the hammer fell only a sharp click followed. With an oath he dodged to one side, and his agility saved his life. The lad's bullet barely grazed him, and struck Abner Wilkinson, who was directly in range. With a shrill cry the Tory farmer fell to his knees and then toppled over on his back.

The report was terrific and seemed to shake the very house. The powder smoke hid the scene for a moment, and then it cleared sufficiently to reveal the officer in the act of drawing his sword. There was no time to hesitate, and Nathan dashed at him before he could lift the weapon for a thrust. The two grappled, swayed fiercely for a few moments, and then came heavily to the floor. Over and over they rolled in a tight embrace, the officer cursing most savagely, and Nathan shouting at the top of his voice.

The struggle lasted but a short time, though to the combatants it seemed a long while. The lad was the weaker of the two, and he realized that he must soon succ.u.mb. But he fought on, gasping hard for breath, and just when his hold was relaxing there came a rush of feet and a loud shout.

The faithful Barnabas had arrived, and without an instant's delay he hauled the officer away from his intended victim. Nathan was able to a.s.sist, and between the two the desperate Britisher was overpowered and his arms were bound behind him with the rope that had so nearly ended the plucky lad's life. Abner Wilkinson was just breathing his last, and the soldier Mawhood was beginning to show signs of returning consciousness.

"The shot brought me here in time," exclaimed Barnabas. "But what does it all mean, lad?"

Before Nathan could reply a m.u.f.fled clatter of hoofs was heard from the rear of the house, followed by the shrill whinny of a horse. Barnabas and the lad exchanged startled glances, but they quickly discovered that they had no cause for alarm. The next instant half a dozen soldiers in the uniform of Washington's bodyguard surged into the room, and with them, m.u.f.fled in a heavy cloak, was General Washington himself.

"Gentlemen, we appear to have come too late," remarked the commander-in-chief. "I think that is the spy yonder." Then he asked for explanations, and Nathan briefly and clearly told the whole story.

"You have done well," said Washington. "Search that man at once," he added, pointing to the prisoner.

Barnabas did so, and speedily produced a thick bundle of papers.

Washington took them eagerly, glanced over them, and then thrust them into his bosom.

"These were stolen from a chest in my private room but half an hour ago," he said. "The thief entered the window by means of a tree, and I suppose the storm enabled him to pa.s.s the sentries. Fortunately the loss was discovered a few moments afterward, and before the snow had covered the man's tracks sufficiently to prevent us from following him. The importance and value of the papers cannot be exaggerated, and I am indeed fortunate to recover them."