"Very well; I will do so."
The horseman had come to a stop and was gazing fixedly at the building, as if waiting for a response to his advance.
Jennie Whitney descended the stairs at this moment.
"I think I see Fred coming," she said, with some agitation; "will they do him any harm?"
"No," replied Sterry, "they have nothing against him."
"But the other day—" she ventured, doubtfully.
"Was a scrimmage, likely to take place at any time; that is ended, but they will probably hold him prisoner."
During this brief conversation a brisk search was going on among the three men for a white pocket-handkerchief. None of them possessed such an article, the hue in each case being different. Hawkridge appealed to Miss Whitney, and she produced a linen handkerchief of snowy whiteness.
"Just the thing," he said, drawing back the door sufficiently to allow him to pass out. "I don't think I will be detained long. It is understood," he added, turning to the captain, "that we don't consider the question of surrender under any terms."
"It will be better to report, and then decide what to do."