ce he had been there. Then, stopping, he said:

"Some one was with you to-night-some of my men. Tell me that traitor's
name and I'll spare your life and hang him before the whole army."

The prisoner turned pale and dropped his head. He would not violate his
promise.

"You are a British spy, and I'll hang you at sunrise!" roared Putnam.

In vain the young man pleaded for time to appeal to Washington. He was
not a spy, he insisted, and it would be found, perhaps too late, that a
terrible mistake had been committed. His words were unheeded: he was led
away and bound, and as the sun was rising on the next morning the
sentence of courtmartial was executed upon him.

At noon Mary returned from the parsonage, her eyes dancing and her mouth
dimpling with smiles. Going to Putnam, she said, with a dash of
sauciness, "I have succeeded, general. I found a lad last night to take
your message. I had to meet him alone, for he is a Tory; so he cannot
enter this camp. The poor fellow had no idea that he was doing a service
for the rebels, for he did not know what was in the letter, and I bound
him not to tell who gave it to him. You see, I punished him for abiding
by the king."

The general laughed and gazed at her admiringly.

"You're a brave girl," he said, "and I suppose you've come for your
reward. Well, what is it to be?"

"I want a pass for Robert Lockwood. He is the royalist I spoke of, but he
will not betray you, for he is not a soldier; and--his visits make me
very happy."

"The spy you hanged this morning," whispered an aide in Putnam's ear.
"Give her the pass and say nothing of what has happened."

The general started, changed color, and paused; then he signed the order
with a dash, placed it in the girl's hand, gravely kissed her, watched
her as she ran lightly from the house, and going to his bedroom closed
the door and remained alone for an hour. From that time he never spoke of
the affair, but when his troops were ordered away, soon after, he almost
blenched as he gave good-by to Mary Marvin, and met her sad, reproachful
look, though to his last day he never learned whether or no she had
discovered Robert Lockwood's fate.

LOVE AND RUM

Back in the seventeenth century a number of Yankee traders arrived in
Naugatuck to barter blankets, beads, buttons, Bibles, and brandy for
skins, and there they met chief Toby and his daughter. Toby was not a
pleasing person, but his daughter was well favored, and one