"We're all here but one," Barnabas answered, pointing to the doorway, "an' he's dead."
"I'll send you to join him," snarled Glass, and with that he presented a gun to the old man's head. But before he could fire, Colonel Butler knocked the weapon aside.
"You ruffian!" he exclaimed. "Would you shoot a prisoner in cold blood?"
"He deserves it," remonstrated Glass, in an injured tone. "Why, this is the leader of the rebel band that attacked my party a couple of days ago, killed four of us, and stole our horses."
"I have nothing to do with that affair," snapped Colonel Butler. "When I want you to play executioner I'll tell you. Don't interfere again!"
With a scowl Glass slunk away, and for a few moments the officer scrutinized his three captives in silence. The upper part of the cabin was now wrapped in flames, and the red glare made the scene as light as day. Tories and Indians stood grouped in a half-circle, the former with cold, pitiless faces, while the latter looked ferociously at the prisoners under their painted cheeks as they gripped their blood-stained tomahawks and edged nearer with fiendish anticipation. Godfrey, who had been with the attacking party, was standing to the rear, and his face alone expressed pity. He blushed as Nathan discovered him and gave him a quick glance of contempt and defiance.
"You can't expect mercy," Colonel Butler finally said. "Within a few hours after the surrender you are found here with arms in your possession—a direct violation of my terms. And you took the offensive, firing deliberately on a part of my force."
"That's right, Colonel," chimed in Glass. "They shot first. We've six dead here."
"We were compelled to fire, sir," said Barnabas. "We had no way to retreat, an' that ruffian yonder told his men not to let one of us escape."
"Exactly," assented Glass. "But my object was to take you prisoners. I saw you and your men recover the arms you had hidden in the woods, and I was justified in following to discover your purpose."