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CHAPTER IX.

"It is all dim—the way still stretches out
 Far in the distance. We may nothing see,
 Till comes the season in the dawning light."

It was an easy victory, and won without loss. Wiping his bloody sword upon the mane of his steed, Major Singleton rode up to his captives, who, by this time, were all properly secured. Four persons had fallen in the conflict, and among these was their leader, Travis. He was shot dead upon the spot. Clough was severely wounded in the breast, though perhaps not mortally, and lay gasping, but without a groan, upon the ground where he had fallen, and around which the surviving prisoners were grouped. Three others had fallen, either killed outright or mortally wounded: two of these by the sabre, not including the corporal, who fell by the hand of Frampton, and who was at once rolled into the swamp. The prisoners, five in number, were natives, generally of the very lowest class, and just the sort of men to fight, according to the necessity of the case, on either side. Such, indeed, were a large proportion of the tories residing in the province. There were many who were avowedly monarchists; who had no sympathy with the revolutionary movement, and no belief in its necessity or propriety; many who were of foreign birth, Scotch, German, and English; and these were frequently persons of great worth, and conscientious in the adoption of their cause, and of these, the unprejudiced judgment of our times has determined that there can be no proper ground for reproach. But with the class of whom we write, and whom we find engaged in such warfare as that which we describe, the case is different. For them, there can be no apology. They were desperates of the worst description—outcasts from several of the provinces,—who, taking refuge at first in Florida—which still remained loyal to the British crown—had