"That isn't the countersign, friend. You'd better give the countersign, or you're a dead man!"
Saying which, Elias sprang back in true Zouave style, with his bayonet fixed and ready for a lunge at me.
"Now, Elias," said I, "you know me just as well as I know myself, and you know I haven't the countersign; and if you're going to kill me, why, don't stand there crouching like a cat ready to spring on a mouse, but up and at it like a man. Don't keep me here in such dreadful suspense."
"Well, friend without the countersign, I'll call up the corporal, and he may kill you,—you're a dead man, any way!" Then he sang out,—
"Corporal of the guard, post number three!"
From post to post it rang along the line, now shrill and high, now deep and low: "Corporal of the guard, post number three!" "Corporal of the guard, post number three!"
Upon which up comes the corporal of the guard on a full trot, with his gun at a right-shoulder shift, and saying,—
"Well, what's up?"
"Man trying to break my guard."
"Where is he?"