“An outside enemy, I’m afraid,” muttered the colonel; “they are both perfectly calm.—Now you, sir,” he continued, turning to the last comer, who hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hand.
This was all in the dim starlight, the figures of the men being made plainer from time to time by the faint glow from the fire; but their faces were quite in the shade as the colonel took the last comer’s hand and grasped it tightly, while Perry’s heart began to beat, for he felt that the discovery was coming; and hence he was not surprised at the colonel’s fierce and decided action.
“Your pulse galloping,” he cried angrily, as he dragged the dimly-seen figure forward. “Perry, Manning, cover those two men, and if they make a gesture to draw their bows, fire at once.—Now, you scoundrel, it was you, and you had come to steal.”
“No, he had not, father; he came to give me back my knife.”
“What!” cried the colonel angrily.
“It’s a fact; he put it in my hand while I slept; and here it is.”
“Then—”
“It’s quite true, sir, and no good to keep it up any longer.”
“Cil!” cried Perry in astonishment.
“Yes. Don’t be very angry with me, Colonel Campion. I felt obliged to come; I couldn’t stop away.”