Even the boys, knowing how many were making their way through the underbrush, listened in vain for the slightest noise which should tell of the progress. A band of Indians could hardly have moved more stealthily, and unless the members of the little encampment were already on the alert, the doom of all was sealed.
The suspense of the boys became so great as the moments passed that they could not carry on a conversation. Speculations were vain when in a few seconds the dreadful reality would be upon them, and their hearts beat so violently that it was as if the blood must burst from their veins.
The seconds passed like moments, and yet all too swiftly as the lads realized what time must bring to their friends.
It seemed to Nathan as if they had remained there silent and motionless fully an hour listening for the first sound of the conflict, or the massacre, whichever it might be, and yet all was as silent as when the troopers left.
He began to fancy that both Sarah Dillard and Ephraim Sowers had been mistaken in believing Colonel Clarke's men were encamped at the Spring, and when this thought had grown in his mind until it was almost a well-defined hope, the first musket-shot rang out.
"The murderers have begun," he said to his comrade in a voice so choked by emotion that the words sounded strange and indistinct.
Then came a volley—a second and a third, and the troopers who held the horses started in astonishment, perhaps fear, for this was not the absolute surprise on which they had counted.
Now the rattle of musketry increased until there could be no question but that it was a conflict, and not a massacre, which was taking place.
By some means the patriots had been warned in due season, and were ready to meet the foe, as they ever had been.
"It is Sarah Dillard's ride that has saved them!" Evan exclaimed as if questioning the truth of his own statement, and straightway Nathan fell to weeping, so great was the relief which came upon him as he realized that the friends of freedom had been prepared for the foe.