“Hush!” the other cautioned. “You'll have a dozen soldiers after you. They're coming back to bury the dead. Of course you're my prisoner. You're on our field—were you not routed?”
This fact rather staggered Ralph. It had not come home to him till then; he looked anxiously toward the river's bank.
The boy divined his thought.
“It's no use to try to swim that stream here. The current's too strong.”
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“It seems I'm your prisoner, then.” Ralph's sad tones spoke volumes. The horrors of captivity stared him in the face. He thought at that instant, of his mother, sisters and the dear old home, and his heart was heavy as lead.
Charlie appeared to be enjoying the advantage he had over Ralph, for he never removed his gaze.
“I've but to raise my voice and you'd be surrounded in an instant.”