“I've no desire to try,” he said; “but he reminds me very strongly of some one I knew in England. What do you call him—Monty?”
Trent nodded.
“Never heard any other name,” he said.
“Have you ever heard him speak of England?” Francis asked.
Trent hesitated. What was this newcomer to him that he should give away his pal? Less than nothing! He hated the fellow already, with a rough, sensitive man's contempt of a bearing and manners far above his own.
“Never. He don't talk.”
Captain Francis moved a step towards the huddled-up figure breathing heavily upon the floor, but Trent, leaning over, stopped him.
“Let him be,” he said gruffly. “I know enough of him to be sure that he needs no one prying and ferreting into his affairs. Besides, it isn't safe for us to be dawdling about here. How many soldiers have you brought with you?”
“Two hundred,” Captain Francis answered shortly.
Trent whistled.