The command to "march" was given, and the crestfallen redcoats turned their faces toward Captain Dillard's plantation.
Now it was impossible for the prisoners to speak one with the other; during four hours they endured a most painful journey, bound in such manner that their limbs became cramped, and it was as if all the blood in their bodies had been forced toward their heads.
The lads were hardly conscious during the last hour of that painful march, and when, arriving at the plantation, the ropes were unloosed, they would have fallen to the ground but for the assistance of those who guarded them.
Ephraim Sowers was awaiting the return of those who had gone out because of the information he brought, and he gave vent to a loud cry of vindictive joy when he saw them bringing the two he most desired to see.
He was near at hand when the prisoners reeled helplessly in the saddles, and as they were laid upon the ground the young spy advanced as if to kick them; but was forced back by one of the soldiers, who said sharply:
"None of that, you young renegade. We who wear the king's uniform are not a band of painted savages; but men who fight fairly, never disgrace themselves by striking a helpless or an unarmed man."
"These rebels belong to me. I was in charge of them when they escaped, and shall work my will on them!" Ephraim cried in a rage as he attempted to force himself past the soldier.
"Not while I am standing nearby, unless you have Major Ferguson's written permission, and that I much misdoubt you will get."
It was useless for Ephraim to insist that these lads were his special property, and after learning that some of the men looked with favor upon his intention of torturing them as punishment for their having escaped, he went post haste to the commander.
Some of the redcoats had given the prisoners water, and in a short time they revived sufficiently to be conscious of all that was going on about them.