The listeners were not certain Scipio had turned away from the door until they heard a voice cry sharply:
"Hold on there, you black man! Whose house is this?"
And from a short distance away Scip's reply could be heard:
"Massa Jacob Dean, de silbersmif."
"Who is inside?"
"De young Missy, an' Sarah Lamb—des two chillun."
"Why didn't you go in?"
"Kase de door was locked. Yo' see dem chillun am 'fraid ter be erlone dese yere terribel times, an' it stands to reason dey don't want strange folks tramplin' in an' out."
"Oh, Jacob Dean wouldn't harbor a spy!" a third voice cried. "There's no use of wastin' our time at this house."
Dorothy drew a long breath of relief as she heard these words, and at the same time fancied that the silent soldier by her side stood more nearly erect, as if a great burden had been lifted from his mind; but the new-born hope was speedily crushed as the first speaker said sharply:
"We shall search all the houses, whether they are owned by Whig or Tory, therefore get back to your post at once. I will attend to these matters."
