‘Give up the watch,’ said the soldier, still threatening the tramp with the point of his sword.
‘Yes, sir—yes, sir; there it is,’ and the man produced it from a capacious pocket, Jack running forward and taking it from him.
‘Now, cut it!’ cried the soldier; and as the man turned to obey he gave him half-a-dozen across the head and shoulders with the flat of his sword, laying on so lustily that the rogue howled again with pain.
‘Now, lad, let’s get back,’ said the soldier kindly to Jack; and they returned to the place where the scuffle had taken place and where Jack’s portmanteau still lay.
The other two men had completely disappeared, which the soldier said was a good thing, for it was a tedious job giving people into custody, and, besides, he had no time to go dancing attendance at police-courts.
‘A good horse-whipping in many cases would do more good than three months’ hard,’ he said, ‘and it’s less trouble.’
He then dismounted to examine his horse’s head and see whether it had been hurt at all by the tramp’s bludgeon, and as he did so Jack took the opportunity of closely examining him.
The soldier was a tall, fine, handsome-looking man, clad in white-striped blue overalls, and a dark-blue jacket with white cuffs and facings, on the arms of which several gold stripes betokened the wearer to be a non-commissioned officer. Worn on the stripes was a silver badge which attracted Jack’s attention. It was a grinning death’s-head standing above two crossed shin-bones.
The soldier wore a head-dress with a white square top, from the left side of which drooped a black plume, while on the plate in front the same grisly death’s-head and cross-bones seemed to grin at the beholder. Jingling spurs, a long sword trailing on the ground, and white leather gauntlets completed the soldier’s attire.
Satisfying himself that his horse, a fine-looking black, was not hurt, the soldier turned to Jack, and with a cheery smile said, ‘Well, my lad, it seems to me I arrived on the scene just in the nick of time.’