or. I
will be standing near you, behind the door, with my pistol leveled at your
head. Make one movement to escape, or say anything but what I have told
you to say, and you are a dead man!"

The patter of the horses was becoming more and more distinct.

"Will you do as I tell you?" asked Watson, very coolly, as he toyed with
his revolver.

"If I won't?" asked Hare. His face was now convulsed by a variety of
emotions--fear, rage, craftiness, and disappointment.

"I give you three seconds to choose," said Watson. "If you refuse, you
will be stretched out on that floor."

Mrs. Hare, with white cheeks, leaned forward, and whispered to her
husband: "Do as he tells you, Jake. Better let these Yankees go, and save
your own life."

"One--two----" counted Watson.

Hare held up his right hand, and then dropped it listlessly by his side.

"I give in," he said sullenly. "You've got the better of me." He looked,
for all the world, like a whipped cur.

There was not a second to lose. The horsemen were riding up to the house.
Watson motioned to the farmer, who walked into the parlor, which was
unlighted, closely followed by the soldier. There were sounds without, as
of horses being reined in, and of men's gruff voices. Hare opened the
parlor door a few inches, while Watson, safe from observation, stationed
himself within a few feet of him, with cocked revolver. "Remember!" he
whispered, significantly.

"Is that you, boys?" shouted Hare. "Those three spies I sent word about
escaped from here ten minutes ago, stole a boat on the bank, down by the
landing, and started to row across the river."

"They will never reach the other side a night like this," called out some
one.

"What did you let 'em get away from you for?" asked another of the
Vigilants.

"How could I help it?" growled the farmer. "They were well armed--and
'twas three men against one."

"Pah! You've brought us out on a wild-goose chase, and on a durned bad
night," came a voice from the wet and darkness.

"Perhaps they'll drift back to this side of the river, and can be caught,"
one Vigilant suggested. But this idea evidently met with little approval.
It was plain, from what Watson could hear of the discussion which ensued,
that the Vigilants were disgusted. They were ready, indeed, to give up the
chase, on the supposition that the three fugitives would either drift down
in midstream, or else be capsized and find a watery grave.

"Come, we'll get home aga