The hostess went to the door and called her son, and, almost
immediately afterwards, a sturdy boy of about twelve or fourteen years
of age entered the apartment, his clothes dripping with rain. He
modestly and shyly seated himself on a chair near the door, with his
soaked hat flapping down over a face full of freckles and not less
rife with the expression of an open, dauntless hardihood of character.

"How would you like a scrummage, Andy, with them Scotchmen that stole
your mother's chickens this morning?" asked Horse-Shoe.

"I'm agreed," replied the boy, "if you will tell me what to
do." . . . . . .

Horse-Shoe now loaded the fire-arms, and having slung the pouch across
his body, he put the pistol into the hands of the boy; then
shouldering his rifle, he and his young ally left the room. Even on
this occasion, serious as it might be deemed, the sergeant did not
depart without giving some manifestation of that lightheartedness
which no difficulties ever seemed to have the power to conquer. He
thrust his head back into the room, after he had crossed the
threshold, and said with an encouraging laugh, "Andy and me will teach
them, Mistress Ramsay, Pat's point of war--we will _surround_ the
ragamuffins."

"Now, Andy, my lad," said Horse-Shoe, after he had mounted Captain
Peter, "you must get up behind me. . . . ." . . . . By the time that
his instructions were fully impressed upon the boy, our adventurous
forlorn hope, as it may fitly be called, had arrived at the place
which Horse-Shoe Robinson had designated for the commencement of
active operations. They had a clear view of the old field, and it
afforded them a strong assurance that the enemy was exactly where they
wished him to be, when they discovered smoke arising from the chimney
of the hovel. Andrew was soon posted behind a tree, and Robinson only
tarried a moment to make the boy repeat the signals agreed on, in
order to ascertain that he had them correctly in his memory. Being
satisfied from this experiment that the intelligence of his young
companion might be depended upon, he galloped across the intervening
space, and, in a few seconds, abruptly reined up his steed, in the
very doorway of the hut. The party within was gathered around a fire
at the further end, and, in the corner near the door, were four
muskets thrown together against the wall. To spring from his saddle
and thrust himself one pace inside of the door, was a movement which
the sergeant execu