Colonel Rosenthal rode on without exchanging a word with one of his guard.
Wing and Hay conversed in whispers whenever they could do so with impunity.
“Here’s a go!” muttered Hay. “I wish the colonel had taken Major O’Neale’s advice and turned back with the cavalry.”
“So do not I. The gallant colonel had done his duty, and the result is with the Lord,” answered Wing.
“Yes, I know. But this Monck doesn’t care for Lord or devil. He is as much worse than the Free Sword as an assassin is worse than a mere duellist. He is the coldest blooded demon alive! You will never see him excited; but he has been known to hang a prisoner before the door of his quarters, and sit down and eat his breakfast while enjoying a full view of the death agonies of the hanging and struggling victim!”
“May Heaven protect and deliver our colonel!” exclaimed Wing, clasping his hands in prayer.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GUERRILLA’S ENCAMPMENT.
Into a forest far they thence him led,
Where was their dwelling in a pleasant shade,
With mountains round about environed.