"Nick, whose _bed_ was nearest the hovel, now arose, and placed himself
against it, that he might be ready to act when John's signal was given.
He first, however, awoke his men, without permitting them to rise, by
the summary process of slightly pricking each one with the sharp point
of a bayonet.

"The tories, stowed like sheep in the little hut, soon began to drink,
and, as they did so, became very valorous and boastful. McPherson,
singularly communicative to John, detailed his atrocities on the route
with savage exultation. He feared no assault--not he! He was strong
enough to repel any handful of half-starved, skulking outlaws. If he
caught any of the Cow-boys he would hang them to their own trees, and
manure the soil with the blood of their women.

"John had crept to the door by degrees, and now stood with his hand upon
the raised latchet. He applauded the officer's remarks, and was willing,
he said, to aid him in the deed he contemplated. He then proposed
a toast, and, filling a tin-cup with liquor, said in a loud voice,
'_Hurrah for Ginral Washington, and down with the red-coats_!' The
liquor was dashed in McPherson's face, and John vanished from the hut.
Nick immediately summoned his men by a repetition of the toast, and the
fifty hillocks of snow were suddenly changed, as if by magic, into as
many armed and furious 'rebels.' Before the Skinners could recover from
the momentary surprise into which this curious incident had thrown them,
a volley of powder and shot had been fired into their midst. Dashing
like a frightened hare through the open door, McPherson beheld his
assailants. His fears magnified their numbers, and, conceiving there was
no hope in _fight_, he summoned his men to follow him in _flight_.

"They madly rushed after him, and forcing their way through the dry