only two months ago, and they live
with old Widow Marston on her little farm. He only has one good arm, but
to-day he wanted to fight Abram Dodds for saying he was not an American.
Shall we let him join the company? I know he wants to."

Broad-faced Jacobus shook his head gravely.

"No, I think we'd better not. He's so lately from Canada that he may be
an English spy. You can't be too careful. They say he talks French.
Besides, he's only one good arm. No, I think we'd best not have him. I
don't trust him, and a one-armed soldier wouldn't be good for anything,
anyway."

"Well, I'd trust him," said the first speaker, "and I know him better
than the rest of you do. It's true he's lived in Canada, and when he was
there he learned lots of clever things about the woods, too; but he
feels that this is his country, and he's just as good an American as any
of us."

However, the opinions of Captain Jacobus prevailed, and when Noel came
up he was treated in so cool a way by most of the boys that at first he
felt very angry; but he remembered to check his temper. He remained and
watched the drill, in spite of their evident intention to treat him as
an outsider.

Soon it got so dark that the boys had to stop drilling. They were lying
about on the ground near the edge of the woods, resting a little before
they parted, when of a sudden thirty or forty men, each leading a pony,
loomed out of the dusk. They were walking rapidly, and keeping close to
the forest. The startled boys remained quiet, and the men did not see
them till they were close upon them.

"Hello! What's this?" exclaimed the one who seemed the leader. "Here,
you little rascals, don't you stir! Not a word--not a move!"

The boys were frightened into complete submission, and lay huddled on
the ground staring at the new-comers. These, with the exception of the
leader, who wore the uniform of an English officer, were all dressed in
deer-skin suits, with fur caps and moccasins. The boys saw that they had
been captured by a band of the dreaded Canadian scouts--about whose
Indianlike ferocity many tales were told--and most of the young warriors
trembled with fright. Jacobus tried to say something, but his voice
broke, and the attempt ended in an ignominious mixture of gulp and sob.

"You won't be hurt if you keep quiet," said the officer, trying not to
smile when he saw Jacobus and his big sword. His voice grew stern as he
went on: "Pierre and Antoine, you stay and gua