We gave ourselves up hand and foot to the enemy; there was no way out of it.  I have read in the story-books how men of great nerve and skill have slaughtered five to one, escaping with no great loss of blood.  Well, of a brave man I like to believe good things.  My own eyes have seen what has made me slow to doubt a story of prowess that has even the merit of possibility.  But when there are only two of you, and one without arms, and you are in a corner, and there are ten pistols pointing at you a few feet away, and as many sabres ready to be drawn, I say no power less remarkable than that of God or a novelist can bring you out of your difficulty.  You have your choice of two evils—­surrender or be cut to pieces.  We had neither of us any longing to be slashed with steel and bored with bullets, and to no end but a good epitaph.

They searched the cellar and found our clothes, and wrapped them in a bundle.  Then they tied our hands behind us and took us along the road on which I had lately ridden.  A crowd came jeering to the highway as we passed the little village.  It was my great fear that somebody would recognize either one or both of us.

Four of our men were sitting in a guardhouse at the British camp.  After noon mess a teamster drove up with a big wagon.  Guards came and shackled us in pairs, D’ri being wrist to wrist with me.  They put a chain and ball on D’ri’s leg also.  I wondered why, for no other was treated with like respect.  Then they bundled us all into the wagon, now surrounded by impatient cavalry.  They put a blindfold over the eyes of each prisoner, and went away at a lively pace.  We rode a long time, as it seemed to me, and by and by I knew we had come to a city, for I could hear the passing of many wagons and the murmur of a crowd.  Some were shouting, “Shoot the d—­d Yankees!” and now and then a missile struck among us.  There is nothing so heartless and unthinking as a crowd, the world over.  I could tell presently, by the creak of the evener and the stroke of the hoofs, that we were climbing a long hill.  We stopped shortly; then they began helping us out.  They led us forward a few paces, the chain rattling on a stone pavement.  When we heard the bang of an iron door behind us, they unlocked the heavy fetter.  This done, they led us along a gravel walk and over a sounding stretch of boards,—­a bridge, I have always thought,—­through another heavy door and down a winding flight of stone steps.  They led us on through dark passages, over stone paving, and halted us, after a long walk, letting our eyes free.  We were in black darkness.  There were two guards before and two behind us bearing candles.  They unshackled us, and opened a lattice door of heavy iron, bidding us enter.  I knew then that we were going into a dungeon, deep under the walls of a British fort somewhere on the frontier.  A thought stung me as D’ri and I entered this black hole and sat upon a heap of straw.  Was this to be the end of our fighting and of us?