He would see what manner of people came before he opened the door.

Putting the rifle in the hollow of his arm he crept forward through the bushes.
A large boat was coming in from the schooner, and the bright moonlight enabled him to see at first glance that the six men who sat in it were not men of Boston.

Nor were they men of England.

They were too dark, and three of them had rings in their ears.
Perhaps the schooner was a French privateer, wishing to make a secret landing, and, if so, he had done well to hold back.

He had no mind to be taken a prisoner to France.