They hear the sound of hoofs.
"Some one on his way to New York for trade," says one.
His friend peers out. "No; his clothes are too good for that," he says.
All three spring to their feet, and cry, "Halt!"
The man on the horse stops, and says, "I hope you are on our side."
"Which side is that?" cry the men.
"The side of the King."
"All right," they say; for they wish to find out more.
"Thank God, I am once more with friends!" he says, as he takes out his gold watch. "I must get on. I am in great haste."
"We can not let you go," say the men.