In a little while the sounds in the rear died away. The Tories upon the river bank had been dismounted; and apparently they did not think it wise, in any event, to give chase.
A full hour was consumed in finding the ford in the dark, and crossing the river; but upon the far side they picked up the ferry road once more and turned south. Nat rode with his hand upon the butt of the pistol; the Tories were somewhere ahead and almost any moment might bring another surprise. Suddenly the Porcupine spoke.
“Why,” inquired he, “do this Mr. Henry and his friends travel at night?”
This very question had been intruding itself upon Nat in a hazy sort of way for some time, but now he saw its point for the first time.
“Is there any good reason for their doing it?” persisted the dwarf.
“None that I know of,” replied Nat.
“Then I don’t believe they are doing it,” said the Porcupine, positively. “I don’t know much about things, and the Tories at Master Chew’s seemed to think they would cross the lower ferry to-night. But if it were left for me to give an opinion, I’d say that they were comfortably sleeping at Chester, if they are anywhere near the city at all.”
Nat was silent. The suggestion opened up a new view of the night’s latter developments, and he examined them carefully.
“You may be right,” he said at length. “Perhaps the Tories had some one on the watch; and when they reached the river they may have been told that there would be no crossing attempted until morning.”
“That’s it,” said the dwarf, shrewdly. “And then some of them went over in the boat, while the others were left behind to make sure.”