“Which way leads most directly to Manhattanville?” he said.

“Keep close to the river, and make for Kingsbridge, Colonel,” Andy answered.  “That road is not so carefully watched; it is rougher but safer.”

Burr gave him a smile, then galloped ahead.  The last weary stragglers were barely out of sight, when again the sound of on-coming horsemen broke the stillness.

“These are king’s men!” groaned Ruth, who had stood rigidly silent until now.  “Ah!  Andy, and the others so little in advance!”

Constantly blowing their bugles and shouting derisively after the fleeing patriots, my Lord Howe’s men advanced.

“’Tis a rare fox-hunt!” laughed one.

“But the fox and his mates are out of sight, my lord,” cried another.

“For the moment.  The ways divide a few rods beyond.  Did the rebels pass this way?” asked an officer noticing Andy and Ruth.

[Illustration:  “Burr ventured A question.”]

“Yes, sir!” answered Ruth, promptly, and for a moment Andy sickened at what he feared she was about to do.  It was too late, though, for him to interfere.

“Which road did they take?”

The instant’s pause seemed an eternity to Andy.  Then calmly and with clear, uplifted eyes: 

“The main road, sir, it being the safer and shorter!” Andy felt a moment’s dizziness.  Then a rough voice startled him: 

“I know that boy, my lord; he was the one in the secret passage, about which I told you.  I shall not soon forget him.”

“I thought you said your companion in the cave was dealt a stunning blow; surely this lad could have done no such thing,” answered the Captain.

“I could swear to him, your lordship, though I saw him but for a moment as Martin went down, and the light went out.  Hi! there, Martin, come here,” he called.  A man galloped up, a man with a dark bruise upon his forehead and eye.

“Martin, do you know that boy?” Martin looked, and in the clear light he saw and knew Andy at once; but something staggered him, and he stammered and shook.

“Did you strike this soldier?” asked the Captain impatiently of Andy.

“No, sir!” The words came sharply.

“You do not recognize him?” asked the officer of Martin.

“He—­is—­the—­same!” Martin blurted.  “We are losing time, my lord.”

“There is no way to settle the thing here; we are losing time, and your story of that night in the cave is too important to overlook, Norton.  If this is the boy we must deal with him later.  The young scamp probably knows the roads well.  Lead on, you rascal, but if you play any tricks and mislead us, my men shall pin you to a tree.”

Ruth gave one despairing cry: 

“He is lame,” she panted.  “For shame!  How can he lead a mounted troop?”

“We’ll go slowly.  The game’s nearly up, my girl,” laughed Norton, “and a prick of the bayonet”—­he suited the word with an action, and prodded Andy on the arm—­“will hurry the lamest patriot.  Lead on, cave-crawler!”