a varied and fearful
interest to his family. They had received intelligence, before night, of
the event of Butler's trial, and had reason to rejoice that Mary
Musgrove had so played her part in the delivery of the letter. They were
apprised also of the reward that had been offered for the discovery of
the bearer of this letter, and were informed that detachments of horse
were out to scour the country in quest of the ensign. These tidings
filled them with apprehension. It occurred to Ramsay that if, perchance,
the released prisoners should fall in with any of the parties of the
loyalists, they would of course relate their story, and thus bring down
the full rancor of the Tory wrath upon his household: this would also
lead with more certainty to the pursuit of Horse Shoe. There was still
good reason to hope that the liberated men might not so soon be able to
give the alarm; inasmuch as they were more likely to shape their course
towards Fort Ninety-Six than to repair to Innis's camp, where they might
be forced to do duty, as much against their inclinations as against
their parole. They might even, from a natural aversion to labor, prefer
loitering about the country rather than put themselves voluntarily in
the way of military operations.

"Come what will of it," said Ramsay, summing up the chances for and
against him; "I will be ready for the worst. Many better men have given
all they had to the cause of independence, and I will not flinch from
giving my share. They may burn and break down; but, thank God, I have a
country--aye, and a heart and an arm to stand by it!"

On the same evening, towards sundown, a horseman drew up his rein at
Ramsay's door. He was young--in the prime of early manhood, his dress
was that of a rustic, his equipment showed him to be a traveller--a
weary one, from the plight of his horse, and, like most travellers of
the time, well armed. He did not stand to summon any one to the door,
but put his hand upon the latch with eager haste, and entered with the
familiarity of one acquainted with the place. Mistress Ramsay was seated
at her spinning-wheel, anxiously brooding over the tales of the day. Her
husband reclined in his chair, silently and thoughtfully smoking his
pipe. They both sprang up at once, as the visitor crossed the threshold,
and with fervent joy greeted their son John Ramsay. The household was
clamorous with the affectionate salutations of the parents, of the
brothers and sisters, and