toward his superior officer, raised his musket to direct it at the sturdy old gentleman.
"Shall I shoot the old fool?" he asked.
With more humanity than others had shown during these Newark raids, the British officer shook his head. "He's too old to do us any harm," he replied.
All at once his eyes fell upon Sally's horrified face, peering out at him from beneath the railing, and he gave a violent start. "By the grace o' Peter!" he ejaculated. "What be ye doing here, mistress?"
Sally, however, instead of answering him, ran up the rest of the steps to the street level and around the railing to where old Dot lay rolling upon the ground. The poor beast had been mortally wounded by a stray bullet!
"Oh, Dot! Oh, Dot!" moaned the girl, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to clasp the old horse's head. "Art indeed hurt so badly?"
The British officer, having recalled his men from their futile chase of Alling, turned back to Sally. Old Dot now lay motionless in the lane, and the girl was staring down at her sadly.
"This thy horse?" he asked abruptly.
Before Sally could answer, a new voice spoke sardonically. "Nay, 'tis her master's horse. But I advise ye to arrest this bond servant for loitering
