Every house at that time had its store of firearms, its powder and balls. Peter and Jack sat inside their cabin, muskets ready to hand. From time to time they threw fresh wood on the fire, for the night was cold. Jack stood at a window, looking out at the open space along the river and the road on the opposite bank, both faintly lighted by the stars. Midnight came, but there was no sign of the Yorkers; presently it seemed to Jack that it must be nearly dawn.
Peter, standing at a window on the other side of the door from Jack, suddenly said, "Look! There, coming through the trees to the left of the mill!"
Jack looked and saw men coming into the road, a good many of them, more than he thought he had seen at Farmer Robins' house. They came along the road, crossed the wooden bridge below the Falls, passed by the mill, evidently taking it for granted there would be no one there at this hour, and marched into the clearing before the log houses. There they divided into small parties, each party heading for a separate cabin.
"Ready now!" cautioned Peter. "We've got two to handle. I'll take the first."
Jack stepped back from the window and laid his hand on the bolt of the door.
"Wait till I give the word," whispered Peter.
From outside there came a loud voice. "Open your door in the name of the Sheriff of New York!" There followed knocks on the door, and other orders, all to the same intent.
Peter waited until the owner might be supposed to rouse and get to the door. Then he whispered, "Now!" Jack drew back the bolt and opened the door enough for the men to enter single file. One man stepped in, the other followed at his heels.
Peter caught the first man in his arms, and, taking him altogether unawares, threw him to the floor with a wrestler's trip. Jack, throwing his arms round the second man's knees, brought him down with a crash. Lithe and quick as an eel, Jack squirmed up to the man's chest and gripped the Yorker's throat in his hands. In a minute or two the man underneath was almost breathless. "Do you surrender?" panted Jack. The Yorker tried to nod.
Peter had wrenched his man's gun away, and was copying Jack's tactics. His man was partly stunned by the sharpness of the fall and made little attempt to free himself from Peter's grasp. Finding himself attacked by a thoroughly-prepared and resolute man, he had no notion as to how many other such men there might be in the house. It was clearly a case where it was best to save one's skin as whole as one could. So, when Peter said, "Keep still there, will you!" the Yorker grunted, "I will," and made no attempt, unarmed as he was, to try further conclusions with the sinewy hunter.