nt conflict. It was
soon inferred that he had been wounded, and, therefore of no further
use in the combat, had retreated to a safe resting-place. It was
decided useless to follow the enemy further towards the near British
posts, whence the Hessians might be reinforced,--as they would have
been, had they held the ground longer. So, having had much the better
of the fight, the surviving dragoons galloped back towards the
post-road, expecting to come upon their captain, wounded, by the
wayside, at any moment. He might, indeed, to make sure of safe refuge,
ride as far towards the American lines as the wound he must have
received would allow him to do.

Such were the doings, on the windy night, beyond Locust Hill, while
Elizabeth Philipse and her aunt sat drinking tea by candle-light
before a sputtering wood fire. Elizabeth having set the example, the
others in the house went about their business, despite the firing so
plainly heard. Black Sam had, after Elizabeth's arrival, returned from
the orchard, whither he had gone late in the day, lest he might
attract the attention of some dodging whale-boat or skulking Whig to
the few remaining apples. He had been let in at a rear door by
Williams, who had repressed him during the visit of the American
dragoons,--for Sam was a sturdy, bold fellow, of different kidney from
the dapper, citified Cuff. At Williams's order he had made a roaring
fire in the east parlor, to the great comfort of old Mr. Valentine,
and was now putting the dining-room into a similar state of warmth and
light. Williams was setting out provisions for Molly presently to
cook; and the maid herself was, with Cuff's assistance, replenishing
the hall chandelier with fresh candles.

The sound of firing had put Elizabeth's black boy into a tremulous and
white-eyed state. When Molly, who stood on the settle while he handed
the candles up to her, assured him that the firing was t'other side of
Locust Hill, that the bullets would not penetrate the mahogany door,
and that anyhow only one bullet in a hundred ever hit any one, Cuff
affrightedly observed 'twas just that one bullet he was afraid of; and
when, at the third discharge, Molly dropped a candle on his woolly
head, he fell prostrate, howling that he was shot. Molly convinced him
after awhile that he was alive, but he averred he had actually had a
glimpse of the harps and the golden streets, though the prospect of
soon possessing them had rather appalled him, as i