“I am,” said Birch, proudly.
“And a traitor to your country,” continued the major, with sternness. “Do you know that I should be justified in ordering your execution this night?”
“’Tis not the will of God to call a soul so hastily to His presence,” said the peddler with solemnity.
“You speak truth,” said Dunwoodie; “and a few brief hours shall be added to your life. But as your offense is most odious to a soldier, so it will be sure to meet with the soldier’s vengeance. You die to-morrow.”
“’Tis as God wills.”
“I have spent many a good hour to entrap the villain,” said the Skinner, advancing a little from his corner, “and I hope you will give me a certificate that will entitle us to the reward; ’twas promised to be paid in gold.”
“Major Dunwoodie,” said the officer of the day, entering the room, “the patrols report a house to be burned near yesterday’s battle ground.”
“’Twas the hut of the peddler,” muttered the leader of the gang. “We have not left him a shingle for shelter; I should have burned it months ago, but I wanted his shed for a trap to catch the sly fox in.”
“You seem a most ingenious patriot,” said Lawton. “Major Dunwoodie, I second the request of this worthy gentleman, and crave the office of bestowing the reward on him and his fellows.”
“Take it; and you, miserable man, prepare for that fate which will surely befall you before the setting of to-morrow’s sun.”