"Stay together, lads. Don't separate; you'll get lost

if you do," he yelled.

Stoddard bade him keep still, and we soon had our

hands full with a preliminary skirmish. Morgan's line

advanced warily. Davidson, the detective, seemed disgusted

at Morgan's tactics, openly abused the caretaker,

and ran ahead of his column, revolver in hand,

bearing down upon Larry, who held our center.

The Englishman's haste was his undoing. The light

fall of snow a few days before had gathered in the little

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hollows of the wood deceptively. The detective plunged

into one of these and fell sprawling on all fours,-a

calamity that caused his comrades to pause uneasily.

Larry was upon his enemy in a flash, wrenched his pistol

away and pulled the man to his feet.

"Ah, Davidson! There's many a slip! Move, if you

dare and I'll plug you with your own gun." And he

stood behind the man, using him as a shield while Morgan

and the rest of the army hung near the boat-house

uncertainly.

"It's the strategic intellect we've captured, General,"

observed Larry to me. "You see the American invaders

were depending on British brains."

Morgan now acted on the hint we had furnished him

and sent his men out as skirmishers. The loss of the

detective had undoubtedly staggered the caretaker, and

we were slowly retreating toward the house, Larry with

one hand on the collar of his prisoner and the other

grasping the revolver with which he poked the man

frequently in the ribs. We slowly continued our retreat,

fearing a rush, which would have disposed of us

easily enough if Morgan's company had shown more of

a fighting spirit. Stoddard's presence rather amazed

them, I think, and I saw that the invaders kept away

from his end of the line. We were far apart, stumbling

over the snow-covered earth and calling to one another

now and then that we might not become too widely separated.

Davidson did not relish his capture by the man

he had followed across the ocean, and he attempted once

to roar a command to Morgan.

"Try it again," I heard Larry admonish him, "try

that once more, and The Sod, God bless it! will never

feel the delicate imprint of your web-feet again."

He turned the man about and rushed him toward the

house, the revolver still serving as a prod. His speed

gave heart to the wary invaders immediately behind him

and two fellows urged and led by Morgan charged our

line at a smart pace.

"Bolt for the front door," I called to Larry, and Stoddard

and I closed in after him to guard his retreat.

"They're not shooting," called Stoddard. "You may

be sure they've had their orders to capture the house

with as little row as possible."

We were now nearing the edge of the wood, with the

open meadow and water-tower at our backs, while Larry

was making good time toward the house.




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