"They ain't all enemies, though."
"No, there are a few good for nothing Tories left," said Dick.
"That's kind o' hard talk," the old man drawled.
"They ought to be called worse than that," Dick returned sharply.
"S'pose I was one, myself?"
Fritz choked at the very thought of such a possibility, and Dick began to look about for the cause of the farmer's long conversation. At that instant there came a long whistle from outside the house, and with a bound the farmer reached the door and stood in front of it. Dick sprang from his stool, grabbed the old man roughly about the shoulders, and hurled him from his position at the door. He ran outside, followed by Fritz, who had started to his comrade's assistance, and discovered their two horses going at a gallop down the road, led by a young man on a third horse.
"So that's their little game," cried Dick.
"Come on, ve'll catch him," yelled Fritz, and started headlong in pursuit.
Dick ran with him, but it was soon evident to both of them that the longer they ran the farther behind they got. So they slowed down to a walk, and as they reached the top of a long wooded hill, they stopped to get their breath.
"I'll climb up that old tree, I guess," said Dick. "Maybe we can see something of the rascals from the top."