“No,” said Gil, sharply, “I was not.”
“Oh!” replied Sir Mark, caressing his pointed beard; “I thought, perhaps, the young lady of—”
“Hold that prating tongue,” cried Gil, angrily, “or I may slit it, to teach it manners. I was not sent to talk to you, but I came to seek and know more of the man who has thought proper to settle himself down here. Hark ye! my good knight and follower of King James, the Solomon, the wise hater of tobacco, I want to know your business?”
“Let us see,” replied Sir Mark, insolently. “Are you authorised to inquire? Recollect, fellow, that you are addressing one of his Majesty’s officers.”
“I authorise myself,” said Gil, quietly, as he fought hard to keep down his rage and be cool. “As for his Majesty and his officers, tell him that down here in the south are some staunch men, who care no more for him, his laws, and his thick-tongued utterances, than they do for his messengers, however gaily they may be clad.”
“You know, I suppose, that I could have you seized, good fellow, and laid by the heels in prison till such time as it pleased his Majesty to have you tried for sedition, and then hung or shot for the peace of his land.”
“A way that would seem most meet to you, I presume,” said Gil, quietly.
“He is beside himself with rage, and yet trying to madden me, but I’ll keep cool and urge him on,” thought Sir Mark.
“I shall strike him directly, if he talks to me like that,” thought Gil.
“Let me see,” said Sir Mark, gazing at his rival with half-closed eyes; “I have pretty well mastered your life, my good fellow; and the country would be purified if you were away. You are one of Raleigh’s crew of buccanneering rufflers.”