mill. As he drew near, George Prentiss gathered himself for an effort;

the scattering slugs from the heavy pistols of those in pursuit sputtered and hummed about him, but he did not flinch. The fugitive had reached a point a dozen yards away when the young New Englander made his contemplated rush. However, he had not gone more than a few steps when he felt his foot grasped strongly; and down he went at full length upon the ground.

What followed was rather confused; a half dozen or more colonials ran by and over him. A few paused to drag him to his feet and disarm him. Then he heard Nat Brewster’s voice call out:

“He’s gone inside here; the door’s barred. Get something to force it.”

Lights sprang up and danced upon the stone walls of the mill; a heavy log thundered upon the door.

“It was she that tripped me,” thought George. “And she’s hurried her brother inside, thinking to escape notice. But they are trapped.”

The door fell in with a crash, and Nat leaped over the threshold.

“Empty!” he cried. “See, there is another door!”

Sure enough, there was--one that had escaped George’s notice, but which Peggy had evidently observed. And while they stood staring at it, the sudden rattle of hoofs told the patriots that their man had made good his escape.