Cole, without a word, did as commanded; he squatted among some bushes in a spot from which he had a clear view of the schoolhouse; his rifle was held between his knees, ready for anything that might occur.
The lad at the schoolhouse, white-faced and with quivering lip, stood before the British officer; he was a slight, delicate boy, at best, and seemed unaccustomed to rough treatment. The redcoat glared at him like an animal, blood hungry and enraged.
“I want the truth,” said he.
“I have told you the truth,” was the boy’s reply. “I know nothing.”
“You lie!” Turning to the soldier who held the rope, the officer proceeded, “Corporal, bring the halter here; perhaps that will bring him to his senses and induce him to tell the truth.”
The girl, who stood in the doorway with the children, screamed sharply and, running forward, she threw her arms about the boy’s neck.
“No, no,” she cried. “Please don’t harm him; he is my brother; he knows nothing.”
“Corporal,” ordered the officer, “take her away.”
Despite her cries, the girl was dragged away; the boy forgot his own danger and sprang toward the two soldiers, his eyes flashing.
“Let her go,” he cried, his pale cheeks flushing with indignation. “Take your hands off, you cowards!”