"No, Owen! it wouldn't be right for me to take your prize."
"Right, nothing. It's yours, Mart, and you have got to keep it."
"I can't."
"You must," and with playful firmness Owen quickly replaced the pistol in the saddle pockets, and secured the buckles.
"But look!" he continued, running toward the gate, "there comes a man with a flag."
"Hurrah, boys!" cried the stranger, riding up at full speed. "Hurrah! Our soldiers have whipped the English in a great battle at New Orleans. Not more than a dozen of our men killed. Two thousand of the red-coats have been captured, killed or wounded. Here is the account of the battle written by Jackson; and this is the flag carried by the Kentucky regiment."
"Hurrah! hurrah!" chimed in the two boys, throwing their caps into the air. "Hurrah for the American soldiers! Hurrah for the Kentuckians!"
Mr. Howard heard the shouting, and came out into the yard. He was overjoyed at the report, and taking the bullet-rent flag he waved it three times over his head, invoking a blessing on his country.
"We have no time to lose," said the stranger. "This flag and this report must be carried to Washington. The man who handed it to me on the banks of the Green river killed his horse, he rode so fast. I have been on the road since four this morning, and my horse can not go a mile farther. Some one here must take my place."
Owen and Martin interchanged a rapid glance, and demanded at the same time the privilege of heralding the victory.