“I am sorry to see you here, Hennion,” said Brereton’s voice. “You are the last man I wanted to take prisoner under such circumstances.”
“Wilt let me go to my father?” steadily requested the British colonel. “I give my word not to escape.”
“Let him go free,” ordered Brereton; and together they walked down to the prostrate body, which an officer had already turned on its face, so that he might search the pockets.
As the two came up, the squire opened his eyes. “They’ve dun fer me, Phil,” he moaned. “Yer ole dad ’s gone ter the well once too offen, an’ a durn fool he wuz ter go on, when he know’d they wuz arter them ez wuz consarned in it.”
As he spoke, the keel of one of the boats which had rowed in, grated on the river bottom. An officer, springing ashore, joined the group, and saluting, reported: “General Brereton, when you fired the light, it revealed, close upon us, a small boat stealing up the river, in which we captured Mr. Bagby. He declares he was out fishing; but he had no tackle, and the bowsman swears that as we approached he saw him put something into his mouth and swallow it.”
“Bring him here,” ordered the commander; and Bagby, his hands and feet tied, was more speedily than politely spilled into the shallow water and dragged ashore.
“I’ll pay you military fellows up!” he sputtered angrily. “Attacking and abusing citizens as is engaged in lawful occupations. You wait till the Assembly meets. Hello! Well, I’m durned, what ’s happened to Squire Hennion?” he ejaculated. “You don’t mean to say he’s got his deserts at last? Now, I guess you see what your buying of Greenwood ’s brought you. No man makes an enemy of Joe Bagby but lives to regret it.”
A look of intense malignity came on the dying man’s face, and pushing his son, who was kneeling beside him, away, he raised himself with an effort on one elbow. “So it wuz yer ez betrayed me, wuz it,” he cried, “yer ez took yer share in it daown ter the time ez we split over Greenwood, an’ naow goes an’ plays the sneak? Duz yer hearn that, Phil? Ef yer care fer me one bit, boy, bide yer chance an’ pay him aout fer what he’s done ter—” He beat the air wildly with his free arm, in a vain attempt to steady himself, and then once more pitched forward on his face, the blood pouring from his mouth.
The sun had been up an hour when three companies of Continentals, guarding five prisoners, marched into Brunswick, and at the word of command halted on the green. The sight was enough to draw most of the villagers to doors or windows; but when the rumour spread like wild-fire that among those prisoners were Joseph Bagby and Philemon Hennion, every inhabitant who could, promptly collected about the troops, where, as the soldiers and officers paid no attention to their questions, they spent their time in surmises as to what it meant, and in listening to the Honourable Joseph’s threats and fulminations against the military power.
Among those who thus gathered was Mr. Meredith; and the moment he appeared Colonel Hennion called to Brereton, who was busily engaged in conferring with the officer in actual command of the half battalion.