The older man at this allusion respectfully touched his oil-skin cap. Then the boat was shoved out once more into the current.
The young man on the shore watched until it had disappeared.
"Now for a horse!" he exclaimed aloud.
Climbing up the rocks, and following closely a road which ran through a wide meadow, he saw a farm-house to the right. A light in one of the windows had first attracted his attention. He walked up the little lane, and stopped for a moment before knocking at the door.
"Tory or patriot, I wonder?" he queried. He had hesitated before pronouncing the last word.
In response to the tapping of his cold knuckles, the door was opened.
Before him stood a tall woman, and back of her a boy of thirteen or fourteen. The latter had a large bell-mouthed blunderbuss in the hollow of his arm.
"What is it at this time of night?" the woman inquired, in a deep voice like a man's.
"A word of direction," was the answer. "Could you tell me where I can find a horse? I will pay well for him."
"Where are you from?" asked the woman.