“Which av us shall go, Fritz?” he asked.
“I vould go,” was the reply, “but you gan go faster as vot I gan, Tim, so mebby you vos better go.”
“All roight, I’ll go,” said Tim. “An’ you two fellows will go to the Santon home, Oi suppose.”
“Yes, we will go there, for to-night, at any rate,” replied Miller. “We could do nothing here, and we might be of assistance to Mr. Santon, if the Tories come back to bother him.”
“Yah, dot is so,” said Fritz.
“All roight. Well, I’ll be goin’. Good-by, me byes.”
They said good-by, and Tim set out through the woods in the direction of the patriot encampment, while Miller and Fritz made their way toward the home of the patriot, John Santon.
Miller and Fritz walked at a moderate pace, and when they drew near the Santon home, they heard the sound of pounding, as of somebody hammering against the door with a club. They hastened forward when they heard this, for they guessed that the Tories had again put in an appearance.
Such proved to be the case, for they heard a gruff voice calling to Santon to come and open the door or it would be broken down, and pistols in hand--Fritz having given one of his to Miller--they advanced till within about ten yards of the Tories, of whom there seemed to be five or six. Then pausing, they leveled their pistols and fired. Immediately afterward they dashed forward, yelling at the top of their voices.
The shots, followed by the yells of the two, coming so unexpectedly, startled the Tories greatly, and with exclamations of amazement and dismay they fled at the top of their speed, disappearing around the corner of the house very quickly.