His awakening was rude enough, for before he could open his eyes his arms were held behind his back, and he was hoisted roughly to his feet. The officer, good-humoured no longer, was facing him, while half a dozen red-coats shut him off from all chance of escape.
And before him stood Ephraim Macaulay.
"Which of you is Captain Strange?" cried Captain Campbell, very red in the face, and looking back towards his tent as though he awaited an indignant reply from within.
"I am Captain Strange," replied Macaulay stiffly.
"Then where are your papers?"
"They were stolen by the man who came with his boy, who was sleeping outside your tent."
"Be careful of your words, sir. How am I to know that you are what you say?"
"Perhaps you did not trouble to read the particulars on the passport?"
"No, sir—I admit that I did not."
"Then if you had you would have realized that I am not six foot two or thereabouts, or travel with a notorious rebel, such as that boy there. Also that my name is not—Muckle John."