The moment he climbed up the bank I closed with him. He was fairly handicapped by his liquid load, and out of breath and of conceit with his luck besides. He aimed a blow at me with his pistol-butt, but I easily avoided it and let him topple his length again—assisting him in fact—but this time in the dust. Then I sat on him, and threatened his head with a great stone.
“Pouf!” said he, panting. “I protest I am no adept at this business.”
“Is it your only one?” said I.
“At this date, yes.”
“So—you have been an honest man? And what more can a patriot boast of?”
I whistled and called to my companions. My prisoner looked amazed.
“You are not alone!” he exclaimed.
“By no means. My escort is round the curve of the road there.”
He seemed to collapse under me.
“Merci, monsieur!” he muttered, “merci!”