Before Penn could reply, Silas Ropes and six men came rushing down upon them. Stackridge had been out-generalled. Whilst he and his men were being diverted by a feigned attack in front, two different parties had been despatched by circuitous routes to get in his rear. In executing the part of the plan intrusted to him, Ropes had unexpectedly come upon the schoolmaster and his companion. A minute later both were seized and dragged up from the bed of the torrent.
"Ye don't escape me this time!" said Silas, with brutal exultation. "Tie him up to the tree thar; serve the old one the same. We can't be bothered with prisoners."
"What are you going to do to that helpless, blind old man?" cried Penn. "Do what you please with me; I expect no mercy,—I ask none. But I entreat you, respect his gray hair!"
The appeal seemed to have some effect even on the savage-hearted Silas. He glanced at his men: they were evidently of the opinion that the slaughter of the old clergyman was uncalled for.
"Wal, tie the old ranter, and leave him. Quick work, boys. Got the schoolmaster fast?"
"All right," said the men.
"Wal, now stand back here, and les' have a little bayonet practice."
Penn knew very well what that meant. His clothes were stripped from him, in order to present a fair mark for the murderous steel; and he was bound to a tree.
"One at a time," said Silas. "Try your hand, Griffin. Charge—bayonet!"
In vain the old minister endeavored to make himself heard in his friend's behalf. He could only pray for him.