Punctually to the minute the General was ready, and he walked down through the temporary camp to where the wagon stood among scores of others, while the sergeant and four men stood by with Anson, who looked shifty and uncomfortable, wincing suddenly as he caught sight of West and Ingleborough, and then gazing sharply about at the mounted Lancers on duty as patrols, for the prisoners were many, and there had been several attempts at escape.
The General looked at him sharply, and then at the wagon.
“Is that your wagon, prisoner?”
“It was till you took it!” replied the young man surlily.
“What do you say, sergeant?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the sergeant, with military brevity. “I marked it with my knife the day that it was taken.”
As he spoke he laid a finger upon a couple of notches he had made in the wood-work.
“Now then,” said the General, “before I have the wagon examined—”
Anson’s eyes twitched.
“Repeat the charge you made against this man!” continued the General.