Now in that day a chain of baby lakes lay along this portion of the Potomac fens, and one of these was glimmering on our near left hand. It was not deep; but muddy and grown up to lilies, and the home, besides, of certain sedate bullpouts and turtles and other stagnant fish that do not care for currents but love dead waters. These, since bullpouts and turtles be in no manner hysterical animals nor nervous, would not suffer for any plumping of the spy into their midst; and, thus forming my resolve, I was for posting to its execution. My captive still swung limp and loose, for all the world as though he had fainted. I could not believe this last, however, and in any event I would throw him in among the lilies. If he were too far gone with fright to save his own life from drowning, it would mean no more than that I must wade to him and fish him ashore again.
Thus adjusted in my mind, I was on the brink of heaving him overboard, when with a touch of protest Peg stayed my arm.
“No,” she cried, “let him go free.”
“But a moment gone,” I remonstrated, “and you were calling for murder with all its inconveniences. Now you interpose to stop a mighty proper punishment, for, I bethink me, it has been custom to duck spies in every age.”
“Still, you must let him go,” cried Peg. “I will not have you touch him.” And she seized my hand with her little fingers.
With that I threw the caitiff creature on the grass; whereupon he rolled to his knees and extended his palms towards Peg. There was something to roil me in the attitude, and to end that I pushed him over with my foot.
“Be off,” I cried. “And you are to thank this lady for your dry clothes. You had been splashing among the lily-pads except for her.”
Without retort, he scrambled to his soles and was gone like some foul shadow. His absence, of itself, relieved me, for the sight of him was like a blot.
“He would not resist, and so I made you let him go,” said Peg.
“You would have it safe for cowards,” I returned.