Angered at this the captain himself drew a revolver and pointed it at the dog, but I checkmated this by calling Chris round behind me.
“Don’t you dare to interfere with my orders,” cried the bully, furiously.
I answered this by putting myself right in the line of fire. “I will not have the dog shot in this way.”
“The dog is in my house and under my protection,” exclaimed Gatrina.
“You are my prisoners, both of you; and as for you,” he said, with a coarse sneer to Gatrina, “your day is done, and your protection will avail nothing. You’ll find that out soon enough.” But he put up his revolver; and as we had gained the point, it wasn’t policy to anger him further with the hot remonstrance that rose to my lips.
“Did this man give you his name?” he asked the lieutenant, who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. I think he was more than a little ashamed of his superior’s manner. “What’s your name, prisoner?” demanded the captain next.
“I am perfectly willing to explain everything I have done; but I should prefer to do so before a smaller audience.”
“I daresay you would, but you’re not in a position to choose. I settle that. Now answer my questions and don’t try to lie to me.”
The colour leapt to my face at this. “There is no need to insult me, captain. It will neither hurt my case, nor help yours.”
“By God, if you don’t answer me at once I’ll have you marched down into the garden there and shot for a traitor and a cur.”