“Upon my head, I think it is one of those Yankee swine!” cried one of the soldiers in astonishment, as he peered into Dave’s face and looked at his water-soaked uniform.
“What? An American!” roared the other. “Dump him into the river again; he deserves nothing better than to be drowned.”
“No, no! Now we have him, let us take him to camp as our prisoner,” was the mumbled reply. “We shall get a good deal of credit for capturing one of those beasts.”
To this the young lieutenant answered nothing, for the reason that he was almost out of breath, and, furthermore, the befuddled soldiers spoke in a German dialect of which he hardly understood a word.
“Hands up, you son of a rat!” muttered one of the soldiers, as our hero sank down on one of the middle seats of the large rowboat. “Don’t try to play any tricks on us.”
As he spoke he made a clumsy pass at the young lieutenant, and it was then for the first time that Dave realized the truth of the situation, which was that the two soldiers were in no fit condition to manage the rowboat. They had evidently been sent from their camp into town on an errand, and while on this had taken the opportunity to treat themselves liberally to liquor.
Dave realized that if he wanted to escape from the clutches of the enemy, he must do some quick thinking, if not acting. Seeing the condition of the two soldiers, he let out a groan as if in deep pain and sank down on the bottom of the rowboat.
“He must be wounded, or else he has been swimming a long distance,” mumbled one of the soldiers.
“Well, that will make it so much the easier to take him along. Let the pig lie where he is until we reach the landing. Then we’ll make him march along, or else shoot him.”
Both soldiers picked up their oars once more and endeavored to continue their rowing. One had his feet in the middle of Dave’s back and took savage delight in punching his heels into the prisoner.