There was no help for it and the officer obeyed. The first joint of the third finger of the hand was missing.
A shout went up, increasing to a roar, as the detected spy made a sudden dash through the guard surrounding him, reached his horse, and with surprising agility vaulted upon his back and dug his spurs into his sides.
The horse reared high in the air with sudden fright and pain, and started to run, dragging Frank with him. The latter had been startled by the unexpected action of the spy, but he held on to the reins with desperation and refused to be shaken off.
The spy drew a pistol from his belt and fired pointblank at Frank, the bullet grazing his ear. But he still hung on, and a moment later a score of his comrades had caught up to them and dragged the German from the horse’s back.
He fought desperately, for he knew that he was fighting for his life, and considerable force was necessary to subdue him. He was a sadly battered object when at last he was half dragged, half carried into the presence of the major and other officers.
The major looked at him, and his eyes had the glint of steel.
“So this is the way you play the game of war,” he said, in tones of biting irony. “Is there anything to which your country will not stoop?”
The prisoner looked at him sullenly but made no reply.
“Take him away,” the major directed. “A court-martial will attend to his case before sundown.”
The man was marched off, accompanied by his orderly who had also been secured, and as he passed Tom he favored him with a glance that was full of venom and malignity.