“Now it is you three who will obey our orders, instead of knocking us about,” young Beman said gleefully, “and I’ll make the same threat Master Wentworth did: At the first show of trying to escape, I’ll shoot, an’ even though it is dark, there’s little chance of missing aim, for we shall keep close in the rear. Take one musket, Isaac, and the other we’ll leave here, rather than hamper ourselves by too much of a burden.”
“Do you count on trying to make your way through the thicket while it is so dark?” Ezra Jones asked in a surly tone.
“That’s what we shall do.”
“Then you may as well shoot us offhand, for if it was hard work when we were free, what chance have we with our hands tied?”
“If you think that is the best plan I’ll follow your advice, and never so much as wince in the doing of it, for you was one who would have left us to starve,” Nathan said so promptly that the man involuntarily ducked his head as if fearing a bullet might follow the words.
“Where are you bent on taking us?” Jason Wentworth asked, after he had somewhat recovered his composure.
“Our orders were to go to Sudbury, and I think we’d better keep on in that direction, rather than lose time by carrying you to Ticonderoga. We could do that last if we pleased, for our boat is hidden among the bushes nearabout where Master Jones turned back. What say you, Isaac Rice? Is it to be Sudbury, or the fort?”
“It is best we see Captain Baker as soon as may be, and if you think we can find our 224 way through the woods, I’ll say nothing against a short cut, for time presses.”
The prisoners were driven like sheep, both boys marching directly behind them with leveled muskets, and, as may be expected, the advance was exceedingly slow.
The men stumbled over fallen trees, and each of them fell headlong half a dozen times before the seemingly long night came to an end; but still they were urged on at the best possible pace until sunrise, when a brief halt was made.