As quick as thought, Birch was on his feet again, with the sword of the discomfited dragoon in his hand. Vengeance seems but too natural to human passions. There are few who have not felt the seductive pleasure of making our injuries recoil on their authors; and yet there are some who know how much sweeter it is to return good for evil.
All the wrongs of the peddler shone on his brain with a dazzling brightness. For a moment the demon within him prevailed, and Birch brandished the powerful weapon in the air; in the next, it fell harmless on the reviving but helpless trooper. The peddler vanished up the side of the friendly rock.
“Help Captain Lawton, there!” cried Mason, as he rode up, followed by a dozen of his men; “and some of you dismount with me, and search these rocks; the villain lies here concealed.”
“Hold!” roared the discomfited captain, raising himself with difficulty on his feet. “If one of you dismount, he dies. Tom, my good fellow, you will help me to straddle Roanoke again.”
The astonished subaltern complied in silence, while the wondering dragoons remained as fixed in their saddles, as if they composed part of the animals they rode.
“You are much hurt, I fear,” said Mason, with something of condolence in his manner, as they reentered the highway, biting off the end of a cigar for the want of a better quality of tobacco.
“Something so, I do believe,” replied the captain, catching his breath, and speaking with difficulty. “I wish our bonesetter was at hand, to examine into the state of my ribs.”
“Sitgreaves is left in attendance on Captain Singleton, at the house of
Mr. Wharton.”
“Then there I halt for the night, Tom. These rude times must abridge ceremony; besides, you may remember the old gentleman professed a kinsman’s regard for the corps. I can never think of passing so good a friend without a halt.”
“And I will lead the troop to the Four Corners; if we all halt there, we shall breed a famine in the land.”