"Because I think you are the man we want to see," was the reply. "Come on, boys. Keep still now, or it will be worse for you."
In an instant three other men appeared as if they had risen from the ground, and Caleb became aware that he was in the hands of the Tories. It was too dark to see whether or not the men were armed, but something that stuck out by their sides made him think that each of them had a cutlass strapped to him.
"Look here," said he, backing off a pace or two. "Do you mean to arrest me?"
"We will tell you about that when we get you aboard the vessel," said the man who stood in front of him. "You rebels—Head him off, lads. Knock him down."
The words "rebels" seemed to quicken Caleb's ideas. He saw it all now. He was to be arrested and taken on board the Margaretta and be taken off somewhere so that the magistrate could collect the fine he had imposed upon him. To think with him was to go to work. As quick as thought he ducked his head, not forgetting to throw his bucket loaded with yeast full into the face of the officer, for such Caleb took him to be, and dodging the grasp the man made at him he ran furiously toward his own gate. But he had to deal with men who were as cunning as he was. A fourth man, who stood a little distance behind the officer, clasped him in his strong arms before he had made a dozen steps and threw him to the ground.
"Help!" shouted Caleb, with all the power of his lungs.
"Stop that noise; quick!" exclaimed the officer. "Choke him down."
Caleb did not have time to say all he meant to say when he lifted up his voice in shouting for help, for at that moment the man who had thrown him down changed his grasp from his arms to his throat, and the boy was rendered powerless. It was but the work of a few seconds to tie his hands, and scarcely more to jerk him to his feet and start him down the road toward the harbor. Caleb went because he could not help himself. Two Tories followed close behind him. Each one had hold of his collar, which was drawn so tight that he could not utter a sound. A boat that was drawn up on the beach was ready waiting for them, and Caleb was thrown into it and dragged aft until he was brought up by the stern-sheets. The man whom he took to be an officer turned out to be one sure enough, for he took his seat beside Caleb and went on brushing his coat with his handkerchief to wipe off the yeast.
"I will get even with you, my lad, before we get to New York to pay you for throwing that stuff at me," said he, with something that sounded like an oath. "What was it, you rebel?"
"It is something that won't hurt you any," replied the prisoner, striving to get his throat in order so that he could speak plainly.