In pain as I was I wondered what imp of mischief had suggested the question. “If you must know,” I said reluctantly, “I was taken at Saratoga.”
“And exchanged?”
“Yes,” I said.
He chuckled. “Jerusalem!” he said. “You take it as easily as a snake takes skinning! Got a gift for it seemingly! But you escaped better last time than this, I guess?”
“Yes,” I said grudgingly—why should I explain? And luckily at that moment a light showed a little way before us, and relieved me from farther questioning. The forest gave place to two or three ragged fields, divided by snake-fences; and beyond these, where our road crossed another, appeared a small log-house, backed by some straggling out-buildings. If appearances went for anything it was a tavern or a smithy. The light shone from a window of the house.
As we rode up to the door two or three dogs heard us and gave the alarm. The result was not promising. The light went out.
My companion swung his foot clear of the stirrup, and kicked the door. “House!” he cried. “House! Barter!”
There was no answer.
“House!” he cried again. “It’s I! Wilmer!”
A window creaked. “Is that you, Captain?” a thin quavering voice asked.