s to
Curry in regard to the disposition of the troop, and in an authoritative
tone of command, ordered the officer of the militia to detail a guard
for the safe keeping of a prisoner of state. The personage addressed--a
tall, ungainly, and awkward subaltern--signified his acquiescence with a
bow, and immediately took possession of Butler by seizing the rein of
his horse and leading him to one side, where two men, armed with rifles,
placed themselves at either stirrup. Habershaw now directed his men to
alight, accompanying the order with a caution that the prisoner was not
to be allowed to enter the house. "The d----d rascal," he added, "shall
not play the trick of his rebel associate: no more privilege of going
into bar-rooms, and lounging about doors! See the man stowed away in the
barn; and tell the sentinels never to take their eyes off of him--do you
hear, lieutenant?"

"You may depend upon my look-out," replied the lieutenant, with a
flourish of a hacked and rusty sword. "Men, march your prisoner straight
to the barn. Have a relief, Corporal, every two hours, and towards
night, set four on the watch at a time."

"Look to it, Lieutenant!" shouted Habershaw. "No words, sir: do your
duty!"

And having thus given vent to his own high opinion of himself the bulky
captain withdrew into the house.

Butler was now marched into a large log barn, in one corner of which an
armful of fodder, or dried blades of Indian corn, were shaken out for
his bed; and this, he was told, was to be his prison until other orders
awaited him. The guard, consisting of two sentinels, were stationed on
the inner side of the door, having the prisoner immediately under their
eye; and, this disposition being completed, the officer commanding the
detachment retired to mingle with the troopers in the farm-house.

Half an hour had scarcely elapsed after the arrival of the troopers at
Blackstocks, before James Curry had refreshed himself with a hasty meal,
and had his horse brought to the door. He seemed bound upon some urgent
mission.

"Captain St. Jermyn, you say, left this at sunrise this morning?" said
the dragoon, addressing the lieutenant of the militia.

"He did. He was here all day yesterday, and thought he should hear from
you last night."

"What route did he take?"

"To Turnbull, at Ninety-Six."

"Is Turnbull there now, think you?"

"He is," replied the lieutenant. "They say orders have gone up from
Cornwallis to the post for fo