Birch, tremulously, and seemingly afraid to
receive the answer.

"Surely," said Katy, rising hastily, and officiously offering her
chair; "he must live till day, or till the tide is down."

Disregarding all but the fact that his father still lived, the peddler
stole gently into the room of his dying parent. The tie which bound
father and son was of no ordinary kind. In the wide world they were
all to each other. Approaching the bedside, Harvey leaned his body
forward, and, in a voice nearly choked by his feelings, he whispered
near the ear of the sick:

"Father, do you know me?" A noise in the adjoining room interrupted
the dying man, and the impatient peddler hastened to learn the cause.
The first glance of his eye on the figure in the doorway told the
trader but too well his errand, and the fate that probably awaited
himself. The intruder was a man still young in years, but his
lineaments[66] bespoke a mind long agitated by evil passions. His
dress was of the meanest materials, and so ragged and unseemly as to
give him the air of studied poverty. His hair was prematurely
whitened, and his sunken, lowering eye avoided the bold, forward look
of innocence. There was a restlessness in his movements and an
agitation in his manner that proceeded from the workings of the foul
spirit within him. This man was a well-known leader of one of those
gangs of marauders[67] who infested the country with a semblance of
patriotism, and who were guilty of every grade of offence, from simple
theft up to murder. Behind him stood several other figures, clad in a
similar manner, but whose countenances expressed nothing more than the
indifference of brutal insensibility. They were well armed with
muskets and bayonets, and provided with the usual implements of
foot-soldiers. Harvey knew resistance was in vain, and quietly
submitted to their directions. In the twinkling of an eye both he and
Caesar were stripped of their decent garments, and made to exchange
clothes with two of the filthiest of the band. They were then placed
in separate corners of the room, and, under the muzzles of the
muskets, required faithfully to answer such interrogatories[68] as
were put to them.

[Footnote 66: lines of the face.]

[Footnote 67: They were known as "Skinners."]

[Footnote 68: questions.]

"Where is your pack?" was the first question to the peddler.

"Hear me," said Birch, trembling with agitation; "in the next room is
my father