It was an open space in the midst of dense woods, and here a dozen or more horses were tethered to the trees, while as many men were lounging about in a most indolent fashion.
"What have you got there, Jordan?" one of the idlers cried, and the leader replied with a coarse laugh:
"A young Tory who is trying to win his spurs in a most bungling fashion."
"From the town?"
"He is the son of the woman who runs a boarding-house for British officers, and claims to have been sent by Grimshaw."
"Where is Grimshaw?"
"On the pillory, so the boy says. He was captured this morning by some of the Queen's Rangers."
"He is like to have a sore back when he shows up here again."
"We will send them one in return," Captain Jordan replied, pointing to Seth. "It won't be a bad idea to show Howe that we can swing the whip as well as his redcoats, and if ever a cub deserved a flogging it is this one."
"We've got nothing else to do, so let's try our hand on him," some one cried, and Seth looked around terrified.