"Now, Edmund had been hard at work with his own hired man, loading the wagon, to take the timber to a farmer three miles off, to whom it was sold by his father; the wagon and teams both belonged to the Pattisons.
"'Hurry, sir,' said the light-horseman.
"Edmund firmly replied: 'I shall not do it.'
"'What, sirrah! we shall see who will do it,' and drawing his sword, he held it over Edmund's head, cursing, swearing, and threatening to cut him down unless he instantly unloaded his team and helped to carry in it provisions to the British army.
"With unblanched cheek, Edmund Pattison reiterated his denial, telling him to do it for himself. Enraged beyond measure at such a contempt of orders, it seemed as if the man must strike and kill the stubborn boy, who, firm and undaunted, said not a word.
"At this time our Charles, who was on the spot, ran to the house and told Mrs. Pattison that 'the Britisher was going to kill her Edmund.'
"Her cry it was that we heard from the porch. She ran to the barn and begged the soldier to desist. He was more furious than ever, supposing the fears of the mother would induce compliance. She, too, expostulated with her son, imploring him to assist in unloading the wagon, and save himself from death.
"'No fear of death, mother; he dare not touch a hair of my head.'
"The boy grew more determined, the soldier more enraged—flourishing his saber and swearing that he would be the death of him.
"'You dare not. I will report you to your master for this,' said Edmund, boldly. Upon this the light-horseman mounted, telling the boy once more that if he did not instantly begin the work he would cut him into inch pieces. Edmund coolly walked across the barn floor, armed himself with a pitchfork, and took his station in the doorway.