"Hurrah for George Washington! Hurrah for Alice Roussillon's flag!" It was all over soon.

Helm surrendered himself and Beverley with full honors.

As for Oncle Jazon, he disappeared at the critical moment.

It was not just to his mind to be a prisoner of war, especially under existing conditions; for Hamilton's Indian allies had some old warpath scores to settle with him dating back to the days when he and Simon Kenton were comrades in Kentucky.
When Alice snatched the banner and descended with it to the ground, she ran swiftly out through the postern, as she had once before done, and sped along under cover of the low bluff or swell, which, terrace-like, bounded the flat "bottom" lands southward of the stockade.

She kept on until she reached a point opposite Father Beret's hut, to which she then ran, the flag streaming bravely behind her in the wind, her heart beating time to her steps.
It was plainly a great surprise to Father Beret, who looked up from his prayer when she rushed in, making a startling clatter, the loose puncheons shaking together under her reckless feet.
"Oh, Father, here it is! Hide it, hide it, quick!" She thrust the flag toward him.
"They shall not have it! They shall never have it!" He opened wide his shrewd, kindly eyes; but did not fairly comprehend her meaning.
She was panting, half laughing, half crying.