"Sure enough," said the big man, coolly. "You'd best be saying your prayers."
I laughed. "Were you wearing my coat and I yours, you might hang me and welcome; in truth, you may as it is. Which tree will you have me at?"
The man stared at me as at one demented. Then he burst out in a guffaw. "Damme, if you bean't a cool plucked one! I've a mind to take you to the colonel."
"Don't do it, my friend. Though I am something loath to be snuffed out by the men of my own side, we need not haggle over the niceties. Point out your tree."
"No, by God! you're too willing. What's at the back of all this?"
"Nothing, save a decent reluctance to spoil your sport. Have at it, man, and let's be done with it."
"Not if you beg me on your knees. You'll go to the colonel, I say, and he may hang you if he sees fit. You must be a most damnable villain to want to die by the first rope you lay eyes on."
"That is as it may be. Who is your colonel?"
"Nay, rather, who are you?"
I gave my name and circumstance and was loosed of the hand-grip, though the third man dropped the cord and stepped back to hold me covered with his rifle.