The settlers in the fort watched the actions of the Indians and the renegade with some anxiety. They realized that unless General Greene and his army came to their assistance, they would sooner or later either be captured, or else would have to surrender, owing to running out of provisions.

And, if Gurley told the truth, Dick Dare had been captured and would not be able to carry the news to General Greene.

They discussed the situation, and Tom Dare reiterated his statement that as soon as it was dark he would leave the fort, attempt to slip through the lines of the Indians and go in search of Dick. Failing of finding his brother, after a reasonable length of time given to searching, he would then go on to the encampment of the patriot army and tell General Greene of the predicament of the patriot settlers, and get him to come to their relief.

“Very well,” said Mr. Holden. “We shall be glad to have you do as you suggest, my boy. But, it will be a difficult and dangerous matter getting past those redskins. They have the fort surrounded, and will be on the alert to prevent anyone getting away from here.”

“I think I can succeed, sir,” said Tom, confidently.

“I hope so, I am sure. In the meantime I will tell you as nearly as I can where you will find Gurley’s hut, for there probably is where your brother is held prisoner.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, the Indians making no move to attack, but there could be little doubt but what they would make their plans to execute some maneuver during the night.

Soon after dark, Tom got ready to start on his dangerous undertaking. Ben asked to be permitted to accompany him, but Tom said no, that he could do better by himself.

“I think I can get through the lines of the redskins, Ben,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“All right. But you must be careful, Tom.”

“I’ll be careful. Good-by.”

“Good-by,” said Ben, as they shook hands, “and good luck.”

Tom said good-by to the others, and then slipped out through the gate, and stole softly away through the darkness.

“Now, I will have to exercise care,” said Tom to himself. “It is not going to be very easy to get through the lines of the Indians, for they are better woodsmen than the redcoats.”

He moved slowly and cautiously, till he was nearly to the edge of the forest, and then he dropped onto his hands and knees and crawled forward, slowly, pausing every few moments to listen.

Finally he reached the margin of the woods without having heard any sound of the redskins. Here he paused for a few minutes, leaning against a tree, and listening intently for some sound from the Indians.

He knew there must certainly be some of the redskins near at hand, and so when he started onward again, he went slowly and exercised great caution. He knew that the least sound would be heard, and he was careful not to make any noise.

On he went, moving as silently as a shadow, and without hearing any sound to indicate the presence of the Indians. It was indeed trying to his nerves, but Tom was a brave youth, and did not falter.

How long it took Tom to make his way through the lines of the Indians he did not know, but it seemed to him that several hours had passed by the time he was at a point beyond the encircling line of redskins. Had he not moved exceedingly slow, however, he would surely have been discovered, and likely would have been captured.

Rising to his feet, he moved onward, still slowly and cautiously, but he did not hear any sounds to indicate the presence of Indians, and kept steadily onward.

When he had gone about half a mile, he paused and uttered a peculiar, quavering whistle, low but penetrating in the stillness of the night. It was a signal that he and Dick and Ben often used, when separated at night. If Dick were within a radius of two hundred yards, he would hear the whistle, and of course would answer it, unless gagged.

Tom sounded the whistle three or four times, without receiving any response, and then moved onward perhaps a quarter of a mile. Pausing again, he sounded the signal as before. And as before, there was no reply. He was not able to locate, in the dark, the cabin Gurley occupied.

So Tom moved onward, with occasional trips first to one side and then the other, repeating the signal whistle, but he did not receive any response, and finally decided that it would be useless to continue the attempt to find Dick.

“I would like to find him,” murmured Tom, “but it is like looking for a needle in a haystack, and so I guess I will head for the patriot encampment, and carry the news regarding the danger of the settlers in the fort, to General Greene. Then, if Dick isn’t there, I will hasten back and continue the search for him.”

Having so determined, Tom set out in as direct a course as he could follow, and walked swiftly. On he went, keeping it up till morning, when he came to a cabin in the woods, and stopped and asked the man, who looked to be a hunter, if he could get breakfast there.

“I reckon so,” was the reply. And then the hunter asked, curiously: “Whar ye goin’, young feller?”

“To see some friends about seventy-five miles north of here,” was the reply.

“What’s yer name?” the fellow asked.

“Tom Dare,” was the reply.

“My name is Jeff Harkins. Come in an’ set down. I’ll hev the grub ready purty soon.”

Tom entered and took a seat, and when the food had been cooked and was on the table, they sat up to the rude board and ate heartily.

Just as they had finished, into the cabin walked six British soldiers, and they leveled pistols at the heads of the two, and their leader, a lieutenant, cried sternly:

“Surrender, in the name of the king!”