him by the coat.
A pistol shot was heard, and Butler was seen plunging into the wood,
followed by Winter and one or two others.

The fugitives were pursued by numbers of the hostile party, and in a few
moments were dragged back to the lights.

"Who are you, sir?" demanded an officer, who now rode up to Butler,
"that you dare to disobey a command in the name of the king? Friend or
foe, you must submit to be questioned."

"We have been engaged," said Allen Musgrove, "in the peaceful and
Christian duty of burying the dead. What right have you to interrupt
us?"

"You take a strange hour for such a work," replied the officer, "and, by
the volley fired over the grave, I doubt whether your service be so
peaceful as you pretend, old man. What is he that you have laid beneath
the turf to-night?"

"A soldier," replied Butler, "worthy of all the rites that belong to the
sepulture of a brave man."

"And you are a comrade, I suppose?"

"I do not deny it."

"What colors do you serve?"

"Who is he that asks?"

"Captain McAlpine of the new levies," replied the officer. "Now, sir,
your name and character? you must be convinced of my right to know it."

"I have no motive for concealment," said Butler, "since I am already in
your power. Myself and four comrades are strictly your prisoners; the
rest of this party are inhabitants of the neighboring country, having no
connexion with the war, but led hither by a simple wish to perform an
office of humanity to a deceased friend. In surrendering myself and
those under my command, I bespeak for the others an immunity from all
vexatious detention. I am an officer of the Continental service: Butler
is my name, my rank, a major of infantry."

After a few words more of explanation, the party were directed by the
British officer to continue their march to Drummond's cabin, whither,
in a brief space, they arrived under the escort of their captors.

A wakeful night was passed under the woodman's roof; and when morning
came the circumstances of the recapture of Butler were more fully
disclosed. The detachment under Captain McAlpine were on their way to
join Ferguson, who was now posted in the upper district; and being
attracted by the sound of voices engaged in chanting the psalm at the
funeral of John Ramsay, and still more by the discharge of the volley
over the grave, they had directed their march to the spot, which they
had no difficulty in reaching by the help of the torches borne