"About two hundred, I should think," said Dick.
"As long as you are making your last statements on this earth, you may as well stick to the truth," commented the second in command, brutally.
"Bud," Fritz cried, "we would rather stick to the earth." The men could not refrain from laughing at his unintentional joke.
"If you hang us as spies," Dick said, boldly, "you will regret it before long. As soon as the general hears of your horrible mistake I imagine you will have to pay the penalty for your haste."
"That's our lookout, young man," returned the leader. "We can't see anything else to do under the circumstances. You admit having come from the British camp, and didn't declare yourselves when we caught you, so I guess your story won't stand in the face of the evidence against you."
Things looked very black to the two boys at that moment, and there passed before the minds of each all of the incidents in their exciting young lives. Meanwhile the soldiers prepared two ropes to place about their necks, and after asking for any last requests they had to make, led the boys to a strong tree and threw the ends of the ropes over the lower branches.
The two youths had borne themselves bravely through this ordeal and were prepared to go to the end, whatever it might be, in a suitable manner, although Fritz was nearly in tears at the thought of what their finish must be.
"I can't forgive myself for bringing you into this, Fritz," said Dick, brokenly.
"Dot's all right," said Fritz, "mapy der ropes vill preak."
Before Dick could reply to the German's humorous remark and forlorn hope, a brisk volley was fired from around a bend in the road, and the Patriot outposts ran hurriedly toward the shelter of the trees, one of them falling before he had gone more than a few paces, badly wounded by the first discharge.