They accordingly walked over Penn's head a moment later, climbed down the same rocks he had descended, picked their way along the dry stones to the bridge, and took their seats in its shadow beneath him, and so near that he could easily have reached over and taken the captain's cap from his head!
XX.
UNDER THE BRIDGE.
"The colonel wasn't aware of your sentiments," said Sprowl, "or he wouldn't have let him off for fifty substitutes."
"Or if you and Ropes," retorted Bythewood, "had only put through the job with the celerity I had a right to expect of you, he would have been strung up before the colonel had a chance to interfere." And he puffed impatiently a cloud of smoke, whose fragrance was wafted to the nostrils of the listener under the planks.
"Well," said Lysander, accepting a cigar from his friend, "if he gets out of the state,"—biting off the end of it,—"and never shows himself here again,"—rubbing a match on the stones,—"you ought to be satisfied. If he stays, or comes back,"—smoking,—"then we'll just finish the little job we begun."
Penn lay still as death. What his thoughts were I will not attempt to say; but it must have given him a curious sensation to hear the question of his life or death thus coolly discussed by his would-be assassins over their cigars.
"Where are you bound?" asked Lysander.
"O, a little pleasure excursion," said Bythewood. "There's to be some lively work at home this evening, and I thought I'd better be away."