Interactive Developmental Mathematics

1st Edition Rockswold Test Bank

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TRUE/FALSE. Write 'T' if the statement is true and 'F' if the statement is false.

1) A Statement of Cash Flows using the direct method and one using the indirect method will each
produce the same amount of net cash flow from operating activities.
Answer: True False

2) Only the indirect method of preparing the Statement of Cash Flows reports the reconciliation of net
income and net operating cash flow.
Answer: True False

3) All investments meeting the definition of cash equivalent must be so classified.

Answer: True False

4) Under IFRS, term preferred shares near their maturity date may be classified as cash equivalents for
purposes of the Statement of Cash Flows.
Answer: True False

5) Under ASPE, dividends paid must be classified as a financing activity.

Answer: True False

6) The write-off of a bad debt (allowance method) during the current period represents an outflow of
cash on the Statement of Cash Flows for the current period.
Answer: True False

7) A Statement of Cash Flows is significant in that it presents comprehensive information about the
operating, financing, and investing activities of a company.
Answer: True False

8) Sale of an asset and issuance of long-term debt will each cause an outflow of cash.
Answer: True False

9) Sale of an asset for less than its book value results in an inflow of cash.
Answer: True False

1
10) The indirect
method of computing operating cash flows effectively converts accrual accounting
income to cash basis income as its starting point.
Answer: True False

11) A non-cash exchange is a transaction that involves an exchange of resources without any cash being
directly paid or received.
Answer: True False

12) The Statement of Cash Flows is dated at a specific point in time like the balance sheet.
Answer: True False

13) The Statement of Cash Flows can be based on (a) cash only or (b) cash plus cash equivalents.
Answer: True False

2
14) The Statement of Cash Flows is not a required financial statement in the same sense as the income
statement and balance sheet.
Answer: True False

15) In the preparation of the Statement of Cash Flows using the Direct Method, an operating loss would
be reported under cash flows from operating activities.
Answer: True False

16) Assume cash paid to suppliers for 2012 is $350,000, merchandise inventory increased by $5,000
during the year, and accounts payable decreased by $10,000 during the year. The COGS for 2012 is
$335,000.
Answer: True False

17) Depreciation expense represents a "flow" of cash during the current period.
Answer: True False

18) Depreciation expense is not a source of cash or cash equivalents.

Answer: True False

19) A Statement of Cash Flows is designed to help investors, creditors, and others to project a
company's future cash flows.
Answer: True False

20) Cash equivalents are "short-term, highly liquid investments" that are both: (a) readily convertible to
known amounts of cash and (b) so near their maturity that they present insignificant risk of changes
in value because of changes in interest rates.
Answer: True False

21) Generally, only investments with original maturities (to the investor) of less than three months
qualify as a cash equivalent.
Answer: True False

22) Examples of cash equivalents are treasury bills, money market funds, and commercial paper.
Answer: True False

23) Under ASPE, interest received and paid and dividends received must be classified in the operating
activities section of the Statement of Cash Flows.
Answer: True False

24) Dividends received may be classified as operating or investing activities under IFRS.
Answer: True False

25) Depreciation expense in the Statement of Cash Flows is reported under the investing section.
Answer: True False

3
26) A change in the company's policy on defining cash equivalents should be reported as a cumulative
effect adjustment.
Answer: True False

27) Cash from customers equals sales plus the increase in accounts receivable for the year.
Answer: True False

28) Accrual
based net sales plus a decrease in accounts receivable for the year would equal cash from
customers.
Answer: True False

29) Writing off an uncollectible account against the allowance would increase cash from customers.
Answer: True False

30) Cash paid to suppliers is accrual based cost of goods sold plus the increase in inventory plus the
increase in accounts payable for the year.
Answer: True False

31) Costof goods sold plus an increase in inventory minus an increase in accounts payable would equal
cash paid to suppliers.
Answer: True False

32) Under IFRS, interest received may be classified as operating or financing activities.
Answer: True False

33) Under IFRS, interest paid may be classified as operating or financing activities.
Answer: True False

34) Under IFRS, dividends received may be classified as operating or financing activities.
Answer: True False

35) Under IFRS, dividends paid may be classified as operating or financing activities.
Answer: True False

36) Sale for cash of a short-term investment at its cost would cause an inflow of cash.
Answer: True False

37) Salary expense plus amortization of deferred compensation expense for the year would equal cash
paid for salaries.
Answer: True False

38) If Harris
Company issues both a balance sheet and an income statement with comparative figures
from last year, a statement of cash flows should be issued for each period for which an income
statement is presented.
Answer: True False

4
 39) Cash paid to suppliers plus an increase in inventory minus an increase in accounts payable would
equal cost of goods sold.
Answer: True False

40) When a Statement of Cash Flows is prepared using the indirect method, a decrease in the balance of
a prepaid expense during the reporting period is an "add back" adjustment to net income to convert
it to cash from operating activities.
Answer: True False

MULTIPLE CHOICE. Choose the one alternative that best completes the statement or answers the question.

41) A corporation has paid $20,000 in cash dividends each year on its common shares. Although during
year 1 the company had a cash shortage, it declared the dividend. However, it was stipulated that the
$20,000 cash dividend would not be paid until year 2. This dividend will affect the year 1 Statement
of Cash Flows by:
A) decreasing the cash from financing activities.
B) will not affect the Statement of Cash Flows.
C) increasing the cash from financing activities.
D) increasing the cash from operating activities.
E) decreasing the cash from operating activities.
Answer: B

42) The main purpose of the Statement of Cash Flows is:

A) determine the change in cash during the period.
B) disclose the quality of earnings.
C) explain why the balance sheet accounts changed during the year.
D) list the cash inflows and outflows by meaningful cash flow category.
Answer: D

43) Which of the following is the operating cash flow?

A) rent payments B) principal payment on a bank loan
C) payments for the purchase of a building D) dividend payments
Answer: A

44) A corporation recorded the following entry:

Investment in common shares to be held indefinitely 2,000

Cash 2,000

How would this transaction be shown on a Statement of Cash Flows?

A) Cash inflow for financing activities B) Cash outflow for financing activities
C) Cash outflow for operating activities D) Cash outflow for investing activities
Answer: D

5
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 Resigning himself to his fate, he pretended to go to sleep, and
insensibly the warmth and silence lulled him into a doze, from which he
woke with a sudden start, after a lapse of time that he could not compute
exactly.
When he looked round, the fire was burning low, and all was in
gloom. The sentry had left his post, but Schuyler could distinguish the
dark outline of his form leaning against a tree. Silently as he could, the
hussar rolled over once more toward his nearest guard, and this time
there was no warning from the sentry. With his head bowed on his hands,
which were clasped on the muzzle of his rifle, the latter was sleeping and
snoring audibly.
The prisoner raised his manacled hands to withdraw the knife from
the sleeping Indian’s belt, and was already in the act of touching him,
when a sudden interruption occurred to the quiet—an interruption of the
most awful character.
A bright glare of red light shot over the scene from above, and the
astonished hussar beheld, in the midst of the branches of the tree over his
head, a blazing ball of crimson fire.
On a lower branch, stood a gigantic black figure, which Schuyler
recognized, with an indescribable sensation of awe and superstition
which he could not conquer, as the very embodiment of the traditional
idea of the Genius of Evil himself.
The gaunt, gigantic figure, with short, upright horns on its head,
black from head to foot, with steely gleams; the deathly white face, with
great burning eyes and pointed mustache, curved upwards in a malicious
grin of triumph; all were the usual and traditional aspects of the fiend in
art.
For one moment the horrible demon stood erect on a branch, holding
another above his head, while he brandished a bundle of darts in his left
hand.
Not a soul in camp was awake but Schuyler, who fancied himself for
a moment the victim of nightmare, so inexplicable was the vision to his
senses.
Then there echoed a triumphant laugh from the tree, and a deep,
hoarse voice roared out:
“H ! ! ! !!! I !I !”
 Even at the second word, every man in camp started up, and stood
gazing spellbound at the fearful figure.
Then, with a final yell of fiendish laughter, the demon leaped down
on the head of an Indian, and cast a shower of his darts in all directions.
Every one went with fearful force and unerring aim straight to the heart
of a victim, and four men fell writhing to the earth in as many seconds.
Then, with a low wail of inexpressible terror, white and red, without
venturing a blow or shot for defense, flew in wild dismay in all
directions.
As for Schuyler, he was too much astounded to move. His bonds also
prevented him, had he been so inclined. He lay mutely gazing up at the
extraordinary apparition as it stood over the fire dealing death around it,
expecting his own death to follow.
Suddenly, almost in the instant that his captors fled, there was a loud
explosion in the top of the tree, and the red glare vanished to be replaced
by a profound darkness, in the midst of which the wild laugh of the
specter sounded fearfully distinct, while the rapid rush of feet through
the leaves told of the flight of every one else.
Adrian Schuyler lay perfectly still. He was not naturally
superstitious, but the strange events he had witnessed were enough to
rouse the fears of the bravest. He remained where he had fallen, listening
to the receding feet, after which all was silent.
How long he lay there he could not tell. The stillness of death hung
over the forest for hours, but he feared to move, least he might attract the
notice of the strange creature. Where it had gone to, he did not know, but
he fancied it must be near, from having heard nothing of its departure.
Thus the hussar lay on his back by the glimmering embers, till the
doubtful light of dawn stole over the scene, and revealed the empty
forest to his view, with a heap of corpses lying by an extinguished fire.
The demon had vanished.
 CHAPTER VII.
A STRANGE SERVICE.

Adrian Schuyler sat up, with some difficulty, owing to his bonds, and
looked around him. There lay the dead bodies, five in number, and every
one was that of an Indian. Strange to say, not a white man had fallen.
Each body was lying flat on its back, with a ghastly gash right over the
heart, that stretched across the whole length of the rib, leaving a gaping
red pit in the side.
The javelins with which death had been inflicted had vanished, and
the footprints of some creature with a cloven foot were plainly visible by
the side of the corpses.
The light of day, instead of dispelling the mystery, only served to
render it deeper. The hussar could not tell where he was, for the thick
woods, but he noticed that the ground rose to the right of the camp, with
a steepness that told he was at the foot of a mountain.
Now, unwatched by human eye, he rolled himself near the body of an
Indian, and using the latter’s knife with his own fettered hands, soon cut
the cords that bound his feet together. His own handcuffs remained, but
they were not an incumbrance to his further escape. Moreover, it was not
hard to find weapons. They lay by the bodies, or scattered in terror over
the ground, and a heap of abandoned horse equipments, at the foot of a
tree, showed where the demoralized rangers had fled on barebacked
horses. Lying among these equipments he found his own weapons as
they had been thrown there, and it was with great joy that he resumed
them, one by one.
Putting on a sword-belt, when the person is handcuffed, is by no
means an easy operation, but Adrian managed it somehow, and then took
his departure for the mountain, presenting the strange spectacle of a fully
armed hussar roaming the woods, handcuffed like a prisoner.
The irons were decidedly inconvenient, but he had no means to
unlock them. The key in his saber-tasche had been taken by his captors
of the evening to extricate their chief, and the latter had fled, carrying it
with him.
 In a short time the young officer had reached the ascent which he
judged to be the side of a mountain, and beheld his expectations verified.
A lofty mountain indeed was before him, and a break in the woods,
higher up, promised him a prospect of the surroundings.
After some minutes of hard climbing he reached a flat rock that
jutted out many feet from the mountain-side, and around which the trees
had gradually thinned away, leaving a view of the usual sea of mountains
and valleys.
Something in the scene seemed familiar to the hussar, who yet could
not exactly ascertain where he was. Casting his eyes to the right, over a
sea of foliage, he caught sight of a thin wreath of blue smoke curling in
the air, and at the same time, beheld a peculiar shaped cliff, with a stream
falling over its side, which he instantly recognized, ejaculating:
“By heavens, it is the Haunted Hill!”
It was indeed, but the other side from that which he had seen the day
before.
“The mystery is solved,” mused the hussar. “No wonder the Indians
fled. It must have been the Mountain Demon that saved me last night.
But, surely, it can not be possible that demon’s really in it. There was
none here yesterday, and the savages must have grown bold from its
absence. Who can it be, then?”
As he thus mused, the clear silvery notes of a horn echoed from the
rocks overhead on the mountain-side, and soon after came the flying feet
of some creature rapidly approaching.
Instinctively, Adrian Schuyler drew one of his pistols and cocked it,
ready to defend himself against any attack.
The next moment one of the large bloodhounds he had seen the day
before, dashed over the rock at some distance, without noticing him, and
then came the graceful figure of the girl Diana, who bounded past him
within ten feet, and suddenly stopped, dumb with amazement, staring at
the handsome stranger.
Adrian was the first to break the silence.
“Fairest Diana,” he said, in his most winning tones, “well met once
more on the mountain.”
 “How came you here, rash man?” asked the girl, hastily, and turning
pale as she spoke. “Do you not know that this is fatal ground? Are you
tired of your life? If he finds you here, he will kill you.”
Schuyler smiled.
“As to why I came here, it is easily answered. I was brought here a
prisoner, by a party of Indians and Tories, who camped with me in the
woods at the foot of the hill. Last night a strange apparition entered our
camp, killed or frightened away all the Indians, and released me. I am
trying now to find my way back to Derryfield.”
Diana listened to his words with apparent wonder.
“A strange apparition! What! is he here again?”
“I know not to whom you refer, lady, but a creature in the likeness of
a man, but with cloven feet and horns, created such a panic among my
captors as I never saw paralleled.”
“And still you dare stay here,” said the girl, in a tone of wonder. “Oh,
sir, if you value your life, let me entreat you to fly. The road to
Derryfield is straight and easy.”
“And yet you stay here,” said the hussar, meaningly. “Why should I
fear what you do not?”
“Oh, sir, that is different. I am—I can not tell you what. But I entreat
you to fly.”
“Madam,” said Schuyler, gravely, “I should be glad to do so, for my
duty calls me away. But I have no horse, and the woods are full of
enemies. If I go on foot, the chances are that I never get there.”
“What then? You can not stay here—you say you saw him—what is
to be done? You must go back whence you came.”
“I can not do it,” said Schuyler. “The scouts of Burgoyne’s army are
between me and home. I must get to Derryfield, if I have to steal a
horse.”
Diana wrung her hands in agony.
“Man, man, I tell you he will kill you if you stay here. You must go
away.”
“I have a choice of deaths, then,” said the hussar, coolly. “I am safe
from the Indians, on this mountain, and as for the demon, if he kills me,
he will serve his enemies. On my mission to Derryfield depends the
whole future of a campaign.”
As he spoke, the sound of another horn, deep, hoarse and bellowing,
echoed from the top of the hill, and the girl turned deadly pale,
ejaculating:
“It is too late! He is here! You are lost!”
In spite of his general courage and coolness, an involuntary thrill of
terror gathered over the heart of Adrian Schuyler, as he listened to the
mysterious sounds of the phantom horn. It echoed from hill to hill in
deep reverberations, and when it died away, left him with an
indescribable sense of awe.
At the same moment, as if the mysterious demon had waited to sound
his horn till the aspects of nature were in harmony with diabolical
influences, a sudden shadow swept over the sun, and Adrian, looking up,
beheld a deep thundercloud, hitherto hidden behind the mountains,
swallow up the sun, and rush across the sky with wonderful swiftness,
while a powerful gust of wind shook and bowed the trees on the
mountain-side in a groaning chorus.
He turned to Diana, and behold, she was gone! He just caught a
glimpse of her white deer-skin tunic vanishing in the upper woods on the
mountain-side, whence the sound of the horn had come, and he realized
that it had been a summons.
“Man or demon—girl or spirit,” muttered Schuyler, as he entered the
woods in pursuit, “I’ll follow you, and find the mystery of this mountain,
if it costs me my life. I’ll know the secret, at least.”
He ran through the forest in swift pursuit of the vanishing girl, but
quickly realized that she was far swifter than he, for he soon lost sight of
her entirely, and came to a standstill.
Not for long, however.
The storm that was already brewing became more threatening every
moment, the clouds thicker and thicker, and a few drops began to patter
on the leaves overhead. Remembering the direction of the mountain
clearing, the hussar directed his course thereto, and pushed steadily
through the woods toward it.
He had not far to go to reach it, and ten minutes brought him there,
but the storm had already set in, with rattle and crash of thunder, and
intense gloom, only broken by the vivid flashes of the lightning.
As he looked into the clearing, a gray sheet of rain came driving
down over every thing, shutting out mountain and valley from sight, and
threatening to drench him to the skin.
Schuyler was a bold, decided young fellow, as we have seen, and he
hesitated not to run across the clearing, and dash headlong into the hut,
where he found the door as open as on his former visit, and every thing
silent.
Looking round, as soon as he had shaken himself clear of water, he
found himself in a circular room of rough stones, without plastering of
any sort, with a conical roof, supported by a central post of hemlock with
the bark on. At one side of the apartment was a huge fireplace, in which
blazed a big fire of logs, but the cabin was perfectly bare of furniture,
save for the two square blocks of stone, roughly trimmed, one on each
side of the fireplace.
The hussar took his seat on one of these, and dried himself at the fire,
not without some trepidation, it must be owned. He was in the supposed
stronghold of the very demon that he had seen with his own eyes the
night before, and he knew not at what moment he might behold that
terrible form darken the doorway, and be engaged in a contest for life
with the terrible enigma.
But as time wore on, and nothing appeared, while the rain descended
in torrents overhead, and the fire hissed and sputtered as it struggled
against the tempest, the hussar’s spirits insensibly rose, and with them
his curiosity. He began to long to see the fairy form of Diana, and even
caught himself wishing that the demon himself might appear.
But still the solemn rain poured down amid peals of thunder without
cessation, and nothing came. The fire hissed and sputtered, and finally
roared up the wide chimney in triumph, the soldier dried his steaming
garments, and at last the storm slowly abated, and passed off, settling
into a gentle, drizzling rain, with a cold, gray sky, that looked as if it had
set in for a gloomy day.
Then Adrian Schuyler began to cogitate within himself what was best
to do. He knew that if he could not get to Derryfield, his labor was in
vain, and he was equally aware that without a horse he could never
expect to get there alive. Puzzling over his future course, he was startled
by the footsteps of a horse outside, and clutching his carbine with his
manacled hands, he started up and turned to the door. The chain that
connected his irons just gave him sufficient play for his hands to fire a
gun, and he expected an enemy.
What was his surprise at the group that met his view?
A horse without a rider, but saddled and bridled, was being led to the
door of the hut by a huge black bear, the very creature that he had beheld
gamboling with the girl the day before. The bear walked sedately
forward, holding the bridle in his mouth, and the horse followed as if he
was perfectly content with his clumsy conductor.
Full of amazement, Schuyler stepped out of the hut and looked
around. Not a human creature was to be seen, either in the clearing or at
the edge of the woods, but even as he stood there an arrow rose in the air
from the forest in a diagonal line, described a curve in the air, and fell at
his feet.
A little white note was attached to the arrow.
Instinctively Schuyler picked it up, just as the tame bear stopped in
front of him and stood rubbing his head against him, in a friendly and
confiding manner. The hussar opened the note and read as follows:
“Ride the horse in sight of Derryfield. Then strip off his bridle, and
turn him loose. I have ventured much for your sake. Keep our secret for
mine.
“D .”
“Ay, by heavens, I will, sweet Diana,” cried the hussar, in loud tones,
intended to catch the ear of a person concealed in the woods. “A
thousand blessings on your head. You have saved your country one
disaster.”
Without a moment’s delay he took the bridle of the horse, cast it over
the animal’s head, and mounted.
The horse was a nobly formed creature, but Schuyler could not help
noticing its strange appearance and trappings. The animal was coal-
black, without a white hair, and its housings were of the same somber
color, with a shabracque of black velvet, worked with a skull and cross-
bones on the covers. The same ghastly emblem was repeated on the
frontlet of the bridle in white, and the curb was shaped like a human
finger-bone.
 The hussar was too much rejoiced, however, to find any fault with
his equivocal mount. It was evidently a fine horse; and a moment later,
he was galloping through the woods to Derryfield.
 CHAPTER VIII.
BURGOYNE’S IMP.

The night brooded over the white tents, and glimmering fires of a
great army, which lay on the open ground near Saratoga. Street after
street of tents and marquees, in martial array, stretched its long lines,
now silent and dark, perpendicular to the color line. Outside the camp
glimmered embers of the few fires that were left burning, and some
distance off, on the plain, and amid the little patches of wood, were the
brighter fires that told of the outlying pickets.
Occasionally, the distant challenge of a sentry would be heard, to be
followed by the same routine of “Who goes there?” “Rounds.” “Halt,
rounds, advance one with the countersign. Countersign correct. Pass,
Rounds, and a-all’s well!” The last words drawn out into a long, musical
call, caught up and repeated along the line of outposts.
Inside the camp there were no lights, save in one spot, around the
headquarter tents, which were clustered, in apparent confusion, in the
vicinity of a large, half-ruined house, in which the commander kept his
private quarters.
In these tents lights were burning, fires were kindled in front, and a
number of officers were writing at different desks, while orderlies, at
short intervals, entered and emerged from the quartermaster-general’s
tent.
In the large, old-fashioned parlor of the farm-house, which was still
comfortably furnished, and lighted with two wax-candles in silver
candlesticks, a stout officer, in the scarlet uniform of a lieutenant-
general, was walking up and down, with his hands behind his back,
occasionally stopping to speak to a second officer in the dark green
uniform of the Hessians, who stood in an attitude of attention, to listen
and answer the questions of his commander.
General Sir John Burgoyne was a handsome and intellectual man, a
little past the prime of life, and by no means the tyrannical blockhead he
has been represented. On the contrary, his literary abilities were quite
considerable, his powers of mind great; and, up to this time, his
campaign had been conducted on sound military principles, his army
having carried all before it.
The expression on his face that night, however, was one of decided
anxiety, as he conversed with the officer before mentioned.
“How long has this been going on, baron?” he asked, at length.
“For a whole week, General, as near as I can find,” was the reply, in
very pure English, for Baron Reidesel prided himself on his accent.
“And you say that the Indians are beginning to leave us?”
“General, they have already left us, in large numbers. If something be
not done to stop the panic, to-morrow they will leave in a body.”
Sir John Burgoyne looked anxious and perplexed.
“Would to heaven the Government would not employ them at all,” he
said. “They do us more harm with their atrocities, than their services
balance. That unfortunate affair of Jenny McCrea has raised public
feeling against us to a fearful extent, and now, when they might be most
useful, they are frightened to death, and deserting, because of some
masquerading rebel, who plays tricks on them with raw-head-and-
bloody-bones apparitions. Have the soldiers heard of the panic, baron?”
“I regret to say, General, that our own outposts are catching the
infection, since the Indian chief, Creeping Wolf, was killed in sight of
our pickets. The man or demon, whichever it be, seemed to laugh at their
bullets, and disappeared, so they say, in a blaze of red flame.”
“Bah!” said Burgoyne, contemptuously, “’tis some conjuring trick. It
can not be possible that our men are so foolish as to fear it. I must see
that the rounds keep them awake. The fellows grow lazy, and dream. I
shall visit the pickets myself to-night.”
Baron Reidesel brightened.
“The very thing, General. If we keep up their spirits, they will
recover. I only hope we can gain the Indians back.”
“There is only one way, that I see, baron. We must catch this fellow
who disturbs us, and hang him. Doubtless it is some rebel spy. One good
thing. St. Leger sends me word that Fort Schuyler must soon surrender,
and that will encourage the waverers. Then, Baum’s dragoons must be at
Bennington by this time. Let them bring us provisions, and I’ll make
short work of Schuyler’s militia. Go and ask General Fraser, and Philips,
and the rest, to come with us, baron. I’ll be ready in five minutes, and
will make a grand round of all the outposts.”
“Very good, General,” was the reply, as the baron saluted and left the
apartment, while Burgoyne, mechanically putting on his sword, stood by
the fire, moodily cogitating.
He was roused from his reverie by a slight noise in the room, and
looking, started in amazement.
A man of wonderful hight, but gaunt as a skeleton, stood within six
feet of him, looking at him out of great cavernous eyes, that glared from
the midst of a deadly pale face. The man was muffled in a long black
cloak, and his face was shadowed by a broad slouched hat. He stood
regarding Burgoyne in silence.
“Who the devil are you, sir?” asked the General, angrily, as soon as
he had recovered his first shock.
“Your fate,” answered the stranger, in a hollow voice.
“My fate?” echoed Burgoyne, contemptuously. “Perhaps, then, you
are the masquerading rebel who has frightened my Indians?”
“I am the demon of the forest,” answered the other, in the same
hollow tones.
Burgoyne laughed scornfully.
“Indeed? Then you are just the man I want to see. Here, sentry?”
He strode to the door and threw it open, expecting to see the sentry
usually stationed there.
There, across the threshold, lay the dead body of the soldier, in a pool
of blood!
Horror-stricken, Sir John recoiled a moment. Then, whipping out his
sword, he stalked up to the stranger, saying sternly:
“You have done this, but, by heaven, you shall not escape.”
The unknown remained impassive, with his arms folded, and only
smiled sardonically.
“I told you I was your fate,” he said. “Be warned in time. Go back
while you may. A week hence will be too late.”
 “Fool,” said the English General, contemptuously, “you may frighten
superstitious savages with your hocus-pocus, not me. Surrender, or you
are a dead man.”
For all answer the stranger advanced on the General with folded
arms, while fire and smoke began to issue from his mouth!
Incensed at the exhibition, Burgoyne made a violent thrust at the
other with his sword.
The weapon snapped on the stranger’s body as if it had been made of
glass, and the next instant Burgoyne felt the pressure of long, skinny
fingers on his throat, which he in vain tried to throw off, while the
stranger, with gigantic strength, pressed him backward and backward, till
he lay bent over his knee, slowly choking to death.
What would have been the result of this scene is not doubtful, but,
just at that moment, the sound of footsteps was heard in the passage,
with the clank of spurs and swords.
The terrible stranger cast down the nearly senseless body of the
General with a crash to the ground, and stood up.
A moment later, several general officers came up the passage, and
paused with horror at the sight which met them.
The murdered sentry lay across the threshold; Burgoyne, apparently
dead, lay on the floor by the table, while over him towered a gigantic
figure, extending black, shadowy wings, his pale face and burning eyes
glaring from between upright black horns, while fire and smoke came
from his mouth!
A moment later there was an unearthly laugh. The demon flapped his
wings over the table, and out went the lights in intense darkness!
Through the gloom came the hoarse shout:
“H ! ! ! !!! I !I !”
Then came a thundering report, as of the closing of a door and all
was still. The apparition had vanished.
 CHAPTER IX.
THE FIEND OF THE OUTPOSTS.

The scene of confusion in the room was, for some minutes, quite
animated. Burgoyne’s subordinates rushed in, with drawn swords, calling
for lights, and feeling around in the darkness with their weapons. Then
came the tramp of feet and clash of arms in the passage, as a number of
the headquarter dragoons came running in, some carrying torches, and all
with drawn pistols.
The room was thoroughly explored, and the mystery deepened, for
not a trace of the intruder was found. There lay the murdered soldier, and
there was the commander, in the arms of Baron Reidesel, slowly
recovering from the rough handling he had undergone, but nothing
remained of the demoniac visitor, save the overturned candlesticks.
General Fraser—the quartermaster-general—General Philips, Sir Francis
Clark, and most of Burgoyne’s staff, searched the room, trying to
discover some means of exit, but found none. Every panel was sounded,
but none seemed hollow, and the General himself put an end to the
search by saying:
“Let it pass, gentlemen. Some ingenious scoundrel has been here, but
he is doubtless away by this time. We will visit the pickets. It shall never
be said that his majesty’s officers were frightened by a juggler. Order up
the horses.”
“But you are not fit to ride out, General,” objected Philips.
“I am always fit to do my duty, sir,” answered Burgoyne, coldly.
“Come, gentlemen, we have wasted too much time already.”
The courage of the commander was evidently far from being shaken
by his appalling visitation. He had not said a word of its nature yet, and
his staff were still puzzled, but Sir John’s decided manner overbore all
opposition, and they silently followed him to the horses, which were
already in waiting. Then, as calmly as if nothing had occurred, the
General proceeded on his trip to the outposts.
 Burgoyne’s manner was absent and thoughtful as he rode along,
mechanically taking the direction of the outposts. Two dragoons rode in
advance of the party to answer the challenges, and they soon arrived at
the picket reserve, toward the American army.
The officer in command was called up, and taken aside by the
General, who questioned him closely.
“Has any disturbance occurred in your front to-night, sir?”
“Not yet, General, but—”
“But what, sir? Speak out.”
“We are led to expect one, General. Last night, it seems, that one of
the Indian scouts was murdered in sight of our advanced posts. My
predecessor warned me. A man on a black horse galloped by, and flames
of fire seemed to come from his mouth, they say. The moon was up, and
this Indian fired at the horseman, and then turned and ran in. The
horseman followed him, changing into the likeness of—I only tell it as I
was told, General—of the devil himself. Within fifty feet of this reserve
he overtook the Indian, and pierced him with a javelin. Then came a red
flash of fire, and the apparition threw the dead Indian over his saddle,
and fled like the wind, laughing in tremendous tones.”
“Did the sentries fire at him?”
“Yes, sir. They sent a regular volley after him, but he only laughed
louder and disappeared into the woods.”
Sir John Burgoyne remained, silently musing over this story, but he
made no comment. He was, in fact, quite puzzled.
Just as he was about to speak, an exclamation from one of the
soldiers caused him to look round.
Then he struck his hand on his thigh with a muttered curse.
“By heavens! there he comes again. Now let us see if he fools me a
second time.”
It was indeed true. The same weird figure that has already been
described, was galloping up, on a black horse, flames and smoke
proceeding from his mouth, while a stream of sparks came from the
muzzle of his horse. He was coming from the extreme right of the picket-
line, galloping recklessly past the videttes, while shouts, cries, and shots,
followed his course as he came.
 Burgoyne turned to Sir Francis Clark, his favorite aid-de-camp.
“Sir Francis,” he said, in the sharp, quick tones of a superior giving
orders, “take the escort with you, and follow that fellow, till you catch or
kill him. He is a rebel spy, and doubtless wants to draw some of us into
an ambush. If he leads you to the rebel lines, come back and report. I
shall know how to deal with him. If not, follow him, till your horses
drop, and shoot down his animal, if you can. Away, sir.”
The aid-de-camp bowed low, and drew aside. The demoniac stranger
was still coming fearlessly on, in a direction that would bring him near to
their front, and Clark, gathering the twenty dragoons that composed the
escort, rode out to intercept him.
On came the demon in silence, the red sparks streaming from horse
and rider, as if about to charge the whole party.
Then, as he came within sixty feet, he uttered a loud, taunting peal of
laughter, and wheeled off toward the line of videttes.
“Gallop, march!” shouted the aid-de-camp, firing his pistol, and
dashing after. A volley of carbine bullets whistled round the wild rider,
but away he went, fast leaving his pursuers, the same loud, taunting
laugh coming back on the wind.
Away on his track went the whole party of dragoons, headed by Sir
Francis Clark, and in a few minutes the line of videttes was reached. The
alarm had already become general, and at least a dozen shots were fired
at the flying horseman, while a single vidette rode at him with drawn
saber.
Sir Francis, better mounted than the rest, was close behind, as the
demon met the dragoon. He heard a clash of weapons, and the wild rider
darted out unharmed, while the soldier threw up his arms and fell back
off his saddle, dead!
There was no time to lose, however. Shouting to his men to follow,
the English officer galloped on, keeping within thirty feet of the other,
till they reached the woods. Then, with a shrill laugh, the demon rider
darted under the arches of the forest, and Clark followed.
The moon was not yet up, and the darkness in the woods was intense,
but still the foremost horseman galloped on as if horse and rider well
knew the way. Sir Francis followed, almost alone, for the dragoons were
already strung out behind, owing to the severity of the pace.
 Presently a crimson glow flashed up ahead, and the officer perceived
a long, flaring flame, that streamed from the head of the demoniac figure
in front, revealing the short black horns and the long cloak streaming out
behind, exactly like huge wings in appearance.
Amazed, but still resolute, the aid-de-camp followed on, still riding
at the same rapid pace through the arches of the wood.
The hoof-beats of the following dragoons grew fainter and fainter,
and still the two horsemen galloped on in a direction due west, away
from both armies. How long they rode, Clark could not tell, but hour
after hour passed by without any change in their relative positions. The
aid-de-camp rode a splendid horse, one of the few thoroughbreds then in
America, and horses of that blood, as is well known, will gallop till they
drop.
At the pace at which they were going, four hours of this work took
them many a mile from settlements of any kind, till they entered a
broken, limestone region. Then, of a sudden, the red flame went out on
the demon’s head, and, with a loud, mocking laugh, horse and rider
plunged into a narrow black gully, almost hidden in bushes.
A moment later, Clark pulled up, thoroughly bewildered, in thick
darkness. The light that had guided him had disappeared, and he was
alone in the woods.
Too wary to venture himself in an unknown region, the officer sat in
his saddle, musing on the best course to pursue. Then, with a muttered,
“That’s it,” he turned his horse’s head on the way homeward.
The animal, with the well-known instinct of his species, took up his
march without hesitation, as Clark had foreseen. The officer drew his
sword, and gave a slash at every tree he passed, leaving a white streak in
the bark.
“You may hide, master juggler,” he said to himself; “but if I don’t
track you to your haunt by daylight, it will be because there is no virtue
in a blaze.”
 CHAPTER X.
MOLLY STARK’S HUSBAND.

The little mountain town of Derryfield[1] was full of the sounds of the
drum and fife, while companies of tall, raw-boned countrymen, some
with uniforms, more without, but all bearing arms and belts, were
marching to and fro in the streets, and on the green, to the lively notes of
“Yankee Doodle.”
In the best parlor of the “Patriot Arms,” the principal tavern of the
village, a remarkably tall and scraggy-looking officer, in the uniform of a
Continental General, was standing before the fire, with one foot on the
huge andiron, looking shrewdly at our friend, Adrian Schuyler, who
stood before him, still shackled.
The scraggy officer had very broad shoulders, and huge hands and
feet, but the flesh seemed to have been forgotten in the formation of his
powerful frame. He had a tall, narrow forehead, and a very stern,
shrewd-looking face of a Scotch cast of feature, with high cheek bones,
and very sharp black eyes. His nose and chin were both long, the latter
very firm withal. His manner was remarkably sharp and abrupt. The
nervous energy of the man seemed to be ever overflowing in impatience
and fiery ardor. Such was Brigadier-General—afterwards Major-General
—John Stark, the first leader of militia during the Revolutionary War.
“Well, sir,” he said, as Schuyler concluded his relation, “I’m very
sorry that the rascals stole your commission, but your face is sufficient. I
believe your story. What does Schuyler want me to do?”
“To join him at Bemis’ Hights, General,” said the Hussar, with equal
business-like promptness.
“Well, sir, I’ll see him hanged first,” said Stark, with a snap of his
teeth.
Adrian hardly knew what to say to the eccentric brigadier, as he
stood there, nodding his head as if to confirm his words.
“General,” he began, “if any unfortunate accident deprives me of
credit—if you don’t believe I am properly authorized—”
 “I told you I did, young man,” said Stark, with all his old abruptness.
“You’re enough like Phil Schuyler to let me see you’re his cousin.”
“Then, General, what am I to understand?”
“That I’ll see them all hanged first.”
And the iron brigadier compressed his teeth like a vise.
Adrian Schuyler began to wax indignant. Without even waiting for a
smith to file off his irons, he had ridden to Derryfield, turning loose the
black horse, as he had been bidden. Seeking General Stark in the town,
in his equivocal guise, he had been arrested by the patrol, and brought in
as a prisoner, when he had told his whole story without reserve.
The presence of his gray charger—which had been captured, the
night before, around the General’s quarters—confirmed the truth of part
of his statement, while Stark’s clear penetration told him that the
handsome, open face of Schuyler was not that of a traitor. Being so fully
believed, the General’s brusque answer to his message vexed and
surprised him beyond measure.
“General Stark,” he began, indignantly, “do you call that a proper
answer to the lawful orders of a man like General Schuyler? Are you
aware—”
Stark interrupted him in his gruff, abrupt manner:
“Keep cool, young man. I know Phil better than you. He’s a good
man—a sight too good to be hustled from pillar to post by those asses of
Congressmen. They shan’t hustle me. I hold my commission from New-
Hampshire, and intend to stay here.”
“And do you mean to say, General Stark,” asked the hussar, fiercely,
“that I am to go back and report to General Schuyler that you refuse to
come to his aid, when the enemy are pressing him hard, and you have
three thousand men under your orders?”
Stark turned his head to the young man.
“You can tell him and any one else,” he said emphatically, “that John
Stark’s a man, not a post. They can send me all the orders they like, and
I’ll see them hanged before I obey them.”
Adrian Schuyler was now completely indignant, but he remained
calm. With quiet dignity, he said:
 “General Stark, I have only one request to make of you, in that case.”
“Umph—umph! What is it?” grunted Stark, gruffly.
“Allow your men to restore me my horse, which I see at your
quarters, and let me ride back to my chief.”
“Umph—umph! Very good, very good. Have your irons off first,
eh?”
“No, sir,” cried Adrian, fiercely; “not a favor from you but my own
charger. I would sooner die than accept aught else from a man who
deserted his country in the hour of trial.”
“Umph—umph! Gritty lad—gritty lad—like your pluck, by jingo—
keep cool—better have a smith and a dinner, eh? Look faint—must have
dinner.”
This was indeed true, for Adrian had not touched food for twenty-
four hours. He was too angry, however, to accept the offer and turned
away to the door, when Stark’s sharp, metallic voice asked:
“Well, youngster, what are you going to tell Phil, if you get there
alive?”
“That you refuse to fight,” said Adrian, angrily.
“Oh, no, no—not a bit of it,” said Stark, in his quick manner; “not by
a big sight, youngster. You stay with me, and I’ll show you as much
fighting as any man wants, in two days.”
Adrian paused, irresolute. There was something in the voice of Stark
that sounded as if he was mocking him.
“What do you mean, General?” he asked sullenly. “If you are playing
with me, allow me to say that it is in bad taste to an officer in my
position, who has incurred danger to reach you.”
The eccentric General changed his manner immediately. He came up
to Schuyler and forced him, with rough kindness, into a chair by the
table.
“You sit there,” he said gruffly. “I want to talk turkey to you.”
Then he rung a bell, and as the orderly entered, he gruffly ordered up
the “nearest smith and a good dinner.” The orderly did not seem to be
amazed at the singular order. He was an old dragoon, who had once been
a ranger of Stark’s company in the French and Indian war. He saluted,
and wheeled swiftly about, departing without a word.
“Now, see here, captain,” began the eccentric General, as the door
closed, “don’t misunderstand me. I’m going to keep you here, because I
know you can’t get back to your General now. Burgoyne has a body of
his infernal dragoons on the road here, and to-night I march to meet
them. I’ll not put myself under the orders of Congress—that’s flat.
They’ve cheated Arnold and me out of our fairly-won commissions, and
my State has granted what they refuse. I’m going to whip these British
and Hessian dragoons out of their boots, on my own hook, and if
Congress don’t like it, they can lump it. That’s flat, too. When I’ve
whipped the enemy, you can carry the news to Phil, if you please, and I
shall be glad of your help. What do you say now?”
Adrian had been silent during this singular address, which was
spoken in short jerks, the General stumping round the room all the time.
When he had finished, the hussar answered:
“I say you’re a strange man, General; but I’ll stay with you, if you
like. At all events, I can help you, till the road’s clear.”
Stark laughed in his abrupt manner, and clapped the other on the
shoulder, saying:
“You’re the right grit, lad, and if I don’t show you a few English
flags, the day after to-morrow, it’s because Molly Stark will be a
widow.”
The door opened, and in clamped a big country blacksmith, with his
basket of tools, while his blue coat, brass scales, and tall hat-plume
showed that he had just come in from “training.”
“Hang it, Zeke, we don’t want to shoe a horse here,” said Stark,
grinning. “This gentleman has been unfortunate enough to fall into
British hands, and they’ve ornamented him with bracelets. File them off,
so he can dine with me.”
“That’s me, Gineral,” said the smith, affably. “Ef I don’t hev them
irons off in five minutes, you kin take my hat.”
He was as good as his word, filing away at the irons with great vigor,
and when the tavern waiter entered with a large tray, some five minutes
later, Adrian Schuyler was rubbing his released wrists with a sense of
gratitude, while the smith, who had been cheerfully whistling over his
task, and replying affably to his General’s dry jokes, had just picked up
his basket to leave.
Adrian Schuyler, who was used to the formal discipline of the great
Frederick’s army, was wonderfully amused at the free and easy ways of
the General of militia, who behaved like an easy-going old father among
his uncouth soldiers. He had yet to learn that in that singular man, John
Stark, were concentrated the only qualities that enable a man to drive up
raw militia to the cannon’s mouth, with the steadiness of veterans.
 CHAPTER XI.
THE MOUNTAIN QUEEN’S WARNING.

The rain poured steadily down in torrents, and the heavens were all
one unvarying mass of leaden clouds. The outlines of the Green
Mountains were wrapped in driving fleeces of gray mist, and the chilly
north-east wind drove the rain aslant, splashing up the pools that
collected in every hollow.
Adrian Schuyler, at the head of a small party of horsemen, was
slowly riding along on his recovered charger, through the fields near the
little town of Bennington. He was wrapped in his long cloak, and the rain
dripped from his tall hussar-cap in a continued spout. His followers were
awkward, countryfied Green-Mountain Boys, but their peculiar leathern
costume told that they were all hunters, and not agriculturists, by
profession. Hunters they were, and first-class shots, keen at detecting
trails, and model scouts.
They rode on behind their leader, in single file, watching every little
patch of wood that might hide an enemy. Two men rode on each flank at
easy rifle-shot distance, beating up the brushwood, and leaving nothing
unsearched.
Their numbers and actions sufficiently told that they composed a
reconnoitering party, under command of the ex-hussar. It was a
noticeable fact in the history of the Revolutionary war, that those officers
who had served in European armies were treated with great distinction
whenever they could be induced to accept commands, and that their
career in American armies was generally very creditable, with the
exception of those coming from the English service. The latter, as in the
cases of Lee and Gates, were almost uniformly unfortunate, while those
provincials, such as Washington, Putnam, Stark, and Schuyler, who had
learned war in the French and Indian struggle, under English tuition,
were as uniformly good leaders. All which facts tend to prove that the
English system of war is inferior to that pursued, in Germany especially,
on the European continent; as also that American intellect is able to
attain a good result, even in a bad school.
 Adrian Schuyler was a model light cavalry officer, and conducted his
party with due caution. A rifle-shot ahead, was the best scout of the
party, and every now and then, silent signals were exchanged between
the advance and the main body, that communicated some intelligence.
Presently the scout in front halted, and crouched on his horse’s neck.
Instantly, at a low word from Adrian, his party stopped, and the officer
rode slowly up to the side of his advanced vidette, to see what was the
matter.
“Thar they be, Cap,” said the scout, in a low tone, pointing to his left
front, “they’re gone into camp, as slick as molasses, and their Dutch
sentry ain’t got no eyes, I guess, for he’s a-blinkin’ this way, jest like an
owl on a fine day, and hain’t seen me.”
Schuyler, sheltering himself behind the other, and bowing his head,
so as to hide his tall cap, slipped off his horse and leveled a telescope
over the croup of the scout’s steady animal. A bluish line of smoke,
clearly visible against the cold gray background of mist and rain, pointed
out the position of the camp of Baum and his Hessians, detached from
the army of Burgoyne, to seize the stores at Bennington.
They lay in a square, compact mass, in a bend of the little rivulet,
called the Wollonsac, which covered their position. A green grove, at the
borders of the stream, furnished them with some shelter from the rain,
for otherwise they were compelled to trust to huts of straw.
A brown line of fresh earth, covering the whole front of their
position, showed that their commander was a cautious man, who knew
the value of intrenchments.
“There they are, sure enough, Kerr,” said Schuyler, as he shut up his
glass; “but I don’t see any Indians.”
“I’d admire to see the reptyles,” said Kerr, spitefully, “sneaking
round when our boys are here, Cap. No, no, thur ain’t one of ’em left
near us, since the Mountain Devil’s up and arter ’em.”
“The Mountain Devil! Who’s that?” asked Adrian, surprised. It was
the first time he had heard allusions from others to the singular being that
had effected his own release from his late captors.
“Wal, Cap, that’s hard to say,” responded the scout. “Some say he’s a
real devil, some say he’s only a feller that’s got a spite against the Injins.
All I know is, that he’s been round lately, and skeered every one on ’em
out of the country. Folks say he’s b’en dodgin’ round Burgoyne’s men,
playin’ the same games, and that thur leavin’ for hum.”
“Has he been seen near our quarters?” asked the hussar.
“Nary time, Cap. He may be a devil, but if so, he’s a mighty friendly
one fur our side. He don’t only kill Injins and Tories, and leaves our
folks alone. We hain’t so much as seen him, though prisoners tells
mighty tough stories about him, how he’s got horns and huffs, and sends
fire out of his mouth, and sich like.”
Schuyler did not tell the scout of his own experience. He was too
much puzzled at the nature of the apparition.
He remained watching the camp of the English dragoons in silence,
feeling certain that his presence was unseen by the army, then turning, he
led his horse away out of sight.
He was about to lead his party round to reconnoiter from another
quarter, when one of the flanking scouts was seen to go off, at a gallop,
to the right, into the woods, as if in chase of something. A moment later,
a black horse, which the hussar recognized as the one he had turned
loose to go back to the Haunted Mountain, dashed out of the woods,
bearing a lady on his back, and came galloping up, pursued by the scout.
Schuyler waved his hand to the latter to halt, for he recognized the
figure of the lady. Then, up galloped the unknown fair one who called
herself Diana, and checked her horse with fearless grace in front of the
party.
Diana was more beautiful, if possible, in the habiliments of
civilization, than she had been in her woodland guise. She was dressed in
a black riding-habit of velvet, laced across the breast in strange imitation
of a skeleton, in silver, and wore a little black hussar-cap, with a skull
and cross-bones in white on the front, the very costume afterward used
by the “Black Brunswickers” of Waterloo renown. She was dripping with
rain.
Without the slightest hesitation, she addressed Schuyler, earnestly.
“Sir,” she said, “you are in danger, and you know it not. A party of
savages, led by the Tory spy, Colonel Butler, are already between you
and your own forces, to cut you off. Retire, while there is time. I am sent
to warn you. They are now in yonder wood.”
 As she spoke, she pointed to a piece of woods in their rear, and
wheeled her horse as if to flee. Adrian Schuyler impulsively caught at
the bridle.
“Tell me, at least,” he entreated, “that you will not run into danger on
our account. We are soldiers, you a woman.”
“No time for talking,” she answered, sharply. “Look yonder.”
He looked, and the edge of the wood was full of Indians.
 CHAPTER XII.
THE PARTISAN.

At the sight of the Indians, the American Rangers instinctively

clustered together, and the flankers came galloping in.
That the enemy were in force was evident from the boldness with
which they showed themselves, coming running out, and spreading into a
long skirmish line, that threatened to cut off the rangers from any return
to their own army.
It was evident that they were in a trap from which there was no
escape, except by cutting their way out, twenty white men against nearly
a hundred Indians. The hunters that followed Adrian, bold as they were
by nature, began to evince symptoms of shrinking from the test. Brave
militia, as far as service in war went, they were as yet only the raw stuff
that veterans are made of. Many cheeks were pale, and there was much
nervous fumbling at weapons, but they kept silence and anxiously
watched the countenance of their young leader for advice and succor.
Adrian Schuyler had not served, as volunteer and officer, in the
famous corps of the Zieten Hussars, without profiting by the counsels of
the best leaders of light cavalry in Europe. He scanned the advancing
line of the enemy with great coolness, riding out in front of his men, and
using his telescope.
His example was inspiring to his men, and insensibly the most
nervous forgot his tremors when he saw the coolness of his captain.
The Indians were as yet out of gunshot, they were advancing on foot,
and some five or six horsemen were visible in their line. Adrian watched
them close, and saw that if he could break through the line he could
laugh at pursuit, all his men being mounted and most of the enemy on
foot. He turned his glass to the Hessian camp, and saw no symptoms of
disturbance there. The stolid dragoon sentries paced to and fro on the
parapet of the breastwork, and did not seem to notice the impending
conflict outside.
 Then he turned to speak to his men, and met the blue eyes of Diana.
She was watching him apprehensively, as if she sympathized with his
danger, and longed to avert it, while powerless. Schuyler pointed to the
distant woods, saying:
“For God’s sake, young lady, ride away out of danger. The bullets
will soon be flying, and they will not respect even your beauty.”
“Why not come with me?” she asked. “I can lead you away by a path
where there are no Indians.”
“Thanks for your offer,” said the hussar, gratefully. “It is one that I
would accept, were it not that I have promised General Stark to be back
by a certain hour at his headquarters. My way lies through the enemy.”
“And do you really mean to charge those fierce creatures?” she asked
in a tone of wonder.
“I really do,” he said, quietly. “There’s not half as much danger as
you would think. Rapid motion will take us safe through.”
“Then I go with you,” said the girl, firmly.
Adrian laughed.
“Nonsense, Diana. Your presence here shows that you’re on our side,
but you can do no good with us. Depart while you may. They are almost
within gunshot.”
“I am going with you,” said Diana, firmly. “If it is a mere matter of
fast riding, I can ride too.”
“But you may escape by going the other way,” objected Schuyler.
“Which I shall not do,” she said. “I’ve taken a fancy to see what you
soldiers call a battle, and you can not stop me, so you may as well attend
to your men.”
The hussar shrugged his shoulders, and turned away to his followers,
just as several white puffs of smoke came from the enemy’s skirmishers,
followed by the thump, thump, of two or three bullets, tearing up the
earth around them. The horses began to fidget, and the faces of the men
were somewhat uneasy. Adrian saw that they must be encouraged at
once, or possibly desert in confusion.
He drew his sword and threw back the dripping cloak from his arm,
while he spoke to the rangers.
 “Men,” he said, “it’s time we were doing something. Never flinch
from a few bullets at long range. Those fellows are firing to no purpose.
Fall in, and deploy as skirmishers.”
The rangers promptly obeyed the order. Adrian knew that in times of
danger, men should be occupied, and he insisted on his line being formed
in perfect order, even when the bullets began to whistle unpleasantly
near. The longer the men were exposed to a harmless fire, the greater
grew their confidence, and contempt for the enemy. As soon as the line
was formed, the hussar gave the signal to fall back, which, as he
anticipated, provoked a loud yell, and rattling volley from the enemy,
who took the run in their eagerness. The rangers retired at a slow trot, the
hussar keeping in the rear and watching his foe keenly, till he saw that
the rapid motion was producing the desired effect.
The excited enemy were firing wild.
“Halt!” he suddenly shouted. “Face about, lads! We’ve gone far
enough. Now, follow me, and charge!”
A moment later, with the fair Diana at his side, the ex-hussar was
bearing down on the Indians at full speed, followed by his rangers.
Schuyler’s men all carried broadswords, in the use of which they were
somewhat clumsy, it is true, but strong arms made up the deficiency.
The sudden change of demeanor on the part of the horsemen
produced a result highly favorable to them. The Indians, who always
have a dread of dragoons, fired a harmless, scattering volley, and were
then left with empty pieces while the patriots charged home.
“Now we have them,” cried Adrian, exultingly. “Ride over them,
lads, and then on to our own camp. If a man gets wounded, I’m
mistaken.”
The example of their leader stimulated the men to greater courage,
and they uttered a hearty cheer as they drove on. The rain beat in their
faces, and the wind whistled past as they went, but the enemy were just
as much in the rain, and the Americans knew that the fire would damp
the powder of their foes.
It took but a minute to decide the question. At the full gallop the
whole party of the rangers neared the enemy, and far in front rode Adrian
Schuyler, closely followed by Diana.
 The few horsemen who were with the Indians seemed to be officers,
for they were seen dashing up and down the line, encouraging the
wavering savages to stand. Adrian noticed one tall, powerful figure
among them, which he recognized as the Tory, Butler, and he bent his
course toward that part of the line, knowing that if he could overthrow
the bold leader, the followers would probably be demoralized.
A moment later, he charged against the partisan, who met him,
wielding a long broadsword.
Adrian was a splendid swordsman, and equally good horseman, and
his steed was perfectly trained, no slight advantage in a single combat,
mounted. His antagonist, however, proved to be equally matched. In
hight and weight he was far superior to Adrian, and his blows came like
those of sledgehammers, while his big horse obeyed the rein easily.
But the hussar didn’t wait long to fight. There were too many
enemies near him. His men had already dashed through the line, and
were past him on their way to Stark’s forces, when his antagonist
suddenly, without any visible cause, turned pale, dropped his sword-
hand, and wrenched his horse back several paces, while he glared over
his enemy’s shoulder, as if at some frightful vision.
Involuntarily Schuyler glanced back himself, and beheld the
beautiful face of the mysterious Diana close by, deadly pale with
excitement, while her long hair streamed over the cheeks, wet and
clinging with the rain, like that of a drowned person.
He turned once more to his foe, and beheld the hitherto fierce face
drawn down with abject fear, as the dreaded partisan ground out the
single word “Diana!” and then turned to flee.
Adrian’s horse bounded after him, and the hussar discharged a blow
that cut open the other’s shoulder, which, to his amazement, Butler never
even tried to parry.
The spiteful hiss of a bullet past his ear, cutting away a curl in its
passage, told him that he was not wise to tarry longer. Turning away, he
found himself and Diana almost alone amid the enemy, who were
rallying from their discomfiture, and hastening to cut them off. The
hussar uttered a shout of defiance, seized the bridle of his fair
companion, and galloped away after his rangers.