"Come on!" Seth cried excitedly. "We can't afford to waste time now, for the Tory is bound to know what is being done, and we must be out of this room before he gets here!"
Jacob was unquestionably afraid; but the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs told that it must be done quickly, or not at all, and he let himself down by the hands, dropping to his feet from that lessened height.
Enoch did not wait to learn if his comrade made the descent in safety; each instant the noise of the footsteps sounded louder, and, holding his club ready for immediate use, he threw open the door.
The same man whom they had seen the evening previous was in the hallway, running toward them.
He raised his hand, leveling a pistol full at Enoch's head.
"Get back there, you rebel spawn!" he cried in a rage. "Get back, or I'll fire!"
"Come on, Seth!" Enoch shouted, and he flung his club at the Tory, dropping to the floor instantly he did so.
The weapon was discharged at the same interval of time that its owner's arm was thrown upward by the club, and the odds were more even.
"Close in on him now!" Enoch cried as he leaped to his feet and darted forward.
It was as if the boy no longer gave heed to possible danger; the one idea in his mind was that General Dickinson must be told why his order was not obeyed, and he paid no attention to himself, but prayed that at least one of the party might succeed in leaving the house uninjured.