"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
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.