"If you say a word, or try to, you're a dead man," Si whispered, as he dropped the gun, and substituted his left hand at the man's throat for his right arm. Taking silence for acquiescence, Si picked up his own gun and started with his prisoner for the Colonel. He walked upright boldly now, for the watchers on the rebel works could not see that there was more than one man in the path.
The Colonel ordered Si to bring his prisoner back into a gully some distance behind the line, where he could be interrogated without the sound reaching the men in the works.
"Where do you belong?" asked the Colonel.
"To Kunnel Wheatstone's Jawjy rijimint."
"How many men have you got over there in the works."
"Well, a right smart passul."
"What do you mean by a right smart parcel?"
"Well, a good big heap."
"What, a thousand?"
"Yes, I reckon so."