"They make a great display of activity and alertness," said Pennington, with disdain. "But the river is open for any one who cares to cross it."

Here Pennington stepped into the kitchen and exchanged a few rapid words with the innkeeper. Scarlett pursed his lips and regarded Ezra with attention.

"It would seem to me that under proper conditions, he would prove a very thorough-going gentleman," remarked he, with a nod toward the door.

"I have no doubt of it," said the boy.

Scarlett continued to look at him; and there was speculation in his eyes. At length he spoke again.

"You baffle me sometimes. By your looks you should be a plain dealer, if one is to place an atom of trust in the reading of faces. And yet I find you writhing about like an eel upon a brick pavement."

"What I have said," returned Ezra, "is the truth."

"Ay, what you have said!" The other laughed and slapped his chest. "It's what you have not said that takes me by the horns. And," with a jerk of the thumb over his shoulder, "our acquaintance there is bothered by it too." The speaker studied Ezra for a moment. "Has it occurred to you that you may have fallen in with his desires very neatly in offering to cross the river?"

Ezra smiled and nodded. At this Gilbert Scarlett laughed and slapped him upon the back.

"I might have known it," said he. "You are a deep one for a lad."

"Only a few nights ago you had a rather poor opinion of my wit," said Ezra.

"I remember the saying and I recall it," spoke Scarlett. "I took you for a country lad, in sympathy with the colonists; and I thought it quite a jest to have you carry a message which I felt sure was calculated to help your countrymen but little. But," with a gesture, "I have changed my mind with regard to you. I no longer know what to think. But this I do know," with great candor, "I like you; and I'll stand your friend, if you need a friend, at any place and at any time."

Before the boy had an opportunity to express his thanks, Pennington emerged from the kitchen. b.u.t.toning up his coat, he said:

"You'll have to leave your horses in care of the landlord, gentlemen.

The patrols and detachments that hold the roads would be sure to see us if we went mounted."

Gilbert Scarlett did not like this.

"Without a horse," declared he, "I am like a fish without water to swim in. But, if we must, we must, and that's all there is to it."

Without, it was dark and silent. The bronze sky of the early evening had given place to one entirely black. But the stars winked curiously down, and their rays relieved the darkness to a great extent.

"It will behoove us to mind our steps," said Pennington, as they made their way along the road by which Ezra had approached the "Indian's Head." "Daylight shows many ditches and sunken fences in this hollow, and it would scarcely benefit our peace of mind or body to come upon one or the other."

"'Twas a good thought to create the stars," mused the soldier of fortune, aloud, after they had gone some distance. "They relieve the moon of duty when she is weary. If it were not for them and their twinkling, the night would be as black as my hat."

"Queer things are done on dark nights," said the spy, and he laughed in his disagreeable way.

Scarlett nudged Ezra in the darkness. Then he made reply:

"I can well believe that. And the saying brings to mind a little experience that I once had in Moscow while I served my short career with the Czar. My regiment had but returned from the frontier, after several onfalls at Tartar towns; and I and several of my comrades were drinking our gla.s.ses of tea in a booth. It was a very dark night and we talked over the times just pa.s.sed, and were hoping good fortune for those to come, when there entered a --"

A shrill whistle sounded and Scarlett's anecdote was nipped suddenly.

"Be silent," said Pennington in a whisper. He drew them to the side of the road, where all three halted and crouched, watchfully. The steady tramp of men was heard in the darkness; then some indistinct forms began to wave uncertainly on their vision; finally a voice was heard saying:

"No, I was not sure. But it sounded much like some one speaking."

"It may have come from a great distance off. Sounds travel far at night, you know."

"Yes; but this seemed fairly close. And it is hereabouts that we were warned that the British might venture seeking information, so we can't be too careful."

The tramp of the men continued along the road. At length they were swallowed up; and both their voices and footsteps died away.

"A patrol," said Pennington. "And it's the first time that I've seen one so far away from the sh.o.r.e. It seems that we must be extra careful to-night."

They remained as they were for a time, then, under the guidance of the spy, they left the road, mounted a fence and entered the fields. From then on it was very rough traveling; but Pennington, who had most probably been over the ground often before, selected the least broken ways, in spite of the darkness. After what seemed a very long time indeed, they mounted to the top of Breed's Hill; and off before them they now made out the lights of the British gun vessels swinging in the stream.

Cautiously they descended to the water's edge. Here and there, some distance back, there was a watch-fire, about which were gathered a small group of hardy colonists; but Pennington had studied the situation well; for that point of the sh.o.r.e upon which they stood was apparently unguarded.

The spy waited in silence for a time; then he uttered a low, mournful cry like that of a night-bird haunting the water's edge. There was a brief pause; then the sound was repeated from the river.

"It is a most excellent thing," observed Pennington, "to have an aide who can be depended upon at all times."

"That remark," said Scarlett, "is almost exactly similar to one that I once heard from the old Elector of Hanover. He said--"

"Sh-h-h!" warned Pennington. "Not so loud."

Scarlett at once ceased speaking. Again they stood in silence; then the faint dip of oars reached them. A little later a low voice asked inquiringly:

"For whom?"

"For King George," replied Pennington promptly. Then the low-pitched voice resumed:

"Is that you, Mr. Pennington?"

"Yes, with some friends."

The spy, followed by Scarlett and Ezra, climbed into the skiff; it was manned by four sailor-like men, who at once pushed off.

Not a word was spoken after they had once started; carefully the sweeps were dipped, slowly they were pulled; the skiff progressed steadily and with scarcely a ripple of the water.

Gradually the lights of a vessel grew nearer. There was a rattling and clinking of metal from her low-lying deck; then a hoa.r.s.e voice, startlingly loud after all their caution, hailed them.

"Ahoy!" cried the voice. "Belay there, and give an account of yourself."

"Is that the 'Scorpion'?" asked Pennington.

"It is. For whom?"

"For King George."

"Come alongside and let's have a look at you."

The skiff approached the gun vessel; as its bow sc.r.a.ped the side a man leaned over the rail with a ship's lantern.