the top, sweeping the hair and
blood out of my eyes. What--what was the matter? They were running, those
fellows down there--struggling, fighting among themselves to get away.
Oaths, yells, cries of sudden fear, made a perfect babel. I could not
understand, could not grasp the meaning of the sudden panic. Who were
those men surging in through the front door, pouring out through the
library? Then a voice roared out:

"Bedad, they're Fagin's hell-hounds, byes--ter hell wid 'em!"

Where had I heard the voice before? I sank down, too weak to stand, my
head hanging over the edge of the stairs. Some hand drew me back, but I
had no strength left. Only I could think--and the truth came to me.
Camden militia! Camden militia! By all the gods, Farrell was there! It
was the voice of the Irish minute man heard the night we captured
Delavan's raiders. Then I closed my eyes, and forgot.

CHAPTER XXXVI

SEARCHING FOR CLAIRE

I was unconscious, yet not for long. The first touch of water served to
revive me, and I became aware that an arm supported my head, although
everything was indistinct before my eyes.

"More water, Mike," said a voice close at hand. "Yes, that will do. Where
is Farrell? Oh, Dan, this is Major Lawrence."

"One of the Dragoons said he was in command. Hurt badly?"

"No, I think not; but utterly exhausted, and weak from loss of blood.
They put up a game fight."

"Only three on their feet when we got in. Hullo, Lawrence, getting back
to the world, lad?"

"Yes," I managed to answer, feeling strength enough to lift myself, and
vaguely noticing his features. "Is that you, Farrell?"

"It certainly is," cheerfully. "Duval has his arm about you, and the
Camden boys are herding those devils down below. You had some fracas from
the way things look. How many men had you?"

I rubbed my head, endeavoring to recollect, staring down into the hall.
It was filled with dead and wounded men, and at the foot of the stairs
was a pile of bodies.

"Twelve, altogether," I replied finally. "They--they were too many for
us."

"Three to one, or more, I should judge. We got here just in time."

I was up now, looking into their faces, slowly grasping the situation.

"Yes," I said, feeling the necessity of knowing. "How did it happen? What
brought you? Washington--"

"All natural enough. Clinton got away night before last with what was
left of his army. Left fires burning, and made a forced march to the
ships at Sandy