So Tom moved onward, with occasional trips first to one side and then the other, repeating the signal whistle, but he did not receive any response, and finally decided that it would be useless to continue the attempt to find Dick.
“I would like to find him,” murmured Tom, “but it is like looking for a needle in a haystack, and so I guess I will head for the patriot encampment, and carry the news regarding the danger of the settlers in the fort, to General Greene. Then, if Dick isn’t there, I will hasten back and continue the search for him.”
Having so determined, Tom set out in as direct a course as he could follow, and walked swiftly. On he went, keeping it up till morning, when he came to a cabin in the woods, and stopped and asked the man, who looked to be a hunter, if he could get breakfast there.
“I reckon so,” was the reply. And then the hunter asked, curiously: “Whar ye goin’, young feller?”
“To see some friends about seventy-five miles north of here,” was the reply.
“What’s yer name?” the fellow asked.
“Tom Dare,” was the reply.
“My name is Jeff Harkins. Come in an’ set down. I’ll hev the grub ready purty soon.”
Tom entered and took a seat, and when the food had been cooked and was on the table, they sat up to the rude board and ate heartily.
Just as they had finished, into the cabin walked six British soldiers, and they leveled pistols at the heads of the two, and their leader, a lieutenant, cried sternly: