"They're our men, Fritz! Hurray!" he cried. "We're all right, after all!"
"Give us back our horse," grumbled Fritz, provoked at having walked when he might have ridden.
"Boys, this is a mistake," explained Dick. "We're Patriots on a special mission, and we trust you'll help us make up this needless loss of time."
"Fine Patriots you would make," answered one of the band. "You're a couple of Tory spies and you can't fool your Uncle Henry by any such story as that."
"You're wrong," cried Dick. "You're dead wrong. Isn't there any of you here that know us? This is Fritz Schmockenberg, of Captain Morgan's company. I'm Dick Dare," he explained modestly.
"Ha, ha," laughed one of the men. "So you're Dick Dare, are you? Well, let me tell you, my young friend, that Dick Dare is in Charleston, and we left him there only yesterday."
"That's what everybody is supposed to think," replied Dick. "We left there secretly."
"That don't go with us," said the leader, coming forward. "You fellows are from the British force which is quartered a space back along the road, and I'm afraid that under the usual rules of war, you will have to pay the penalty that is usually dealt out to spies."
"For why didn't we stay vere ve vass," lamented Fritz. "Dot straw vas so comfortable."
"Where were you?" questioned the Patriot captain.