“There’s goin’ to be a foight over in the swamp, Dootchy, an’ we won’t be in it,” said Tim, regretfully.
“Yah,” agreed Fritz. “I vould lige to take a hand in dot fighd, but ve gouldn’t keep on der path in der dark, alretty.”
“No, we’ll have to stay here an’ wait till the ridcoats come back, Oi guiss,” said Tim.
CHAPTER X—To the Rescue
They had been sitting there perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, watching the torch carried by the leader of the British force bobbing about in the swamp, when they suddenly heard voices right near them. The next moment they saw several dark forms making their way through the timber. The two listened to the conversation of the strangers, and learned that they were Tories, on their way to the home of a patriot, one John Santon, who, it seemed, had taken into his home a patriot school-teacher, after the latter had been given a coat of tar and feathers.
The Tories were going to take the teacher out, give him a whipping, and then give him twenty-four hours to get out of that part of the country.
The Tories were walking at a slow pace, and so the two patriots gained the above information before the party was out of hearing.
“Sure, an’ what do ye say to followin’ thim rascals an’ thryin’ to spoil their game, Fritz?” asked Tim.
“I think dot is der thing to do, Tim,” was the reply. “Der retgoads vill not be back here for a long while, und ve can’t do anything to dena when dey do come, for dere are too many uf dem.”
“Roight ye are, an’ mebby we can help the fellow what thim rapscallions are talkin’ av takin’ out an’ whippin’.”