"What, are you bound?" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you call for help?"
And we were yet silent.
He stared at us in surprise, and then he burst into laughter. I think it was partly relief from the nervous strain that made him laugh.
"I have heard often," he said, "that silence is a virtue, but this seems to me to be carrying it to an extreme point."
He promptly gave orders to have the gags and thongs removed, and I stretched my muscles with a feeling of deep relief. Wildfoot might be a great partisan commander, but there was such a thing as pernicious activity. I was a good American, and it was a grievous insult to be bound and gagged by another good American.
"How did this happen?" asked Sir William.
"I do not know," I replied, glad to be able to speak again. "We were bent over the table, busy with our writing, when we were seized from behind. I cannot understand how they passed the sentinel unnoticed."
Sir William swore a frightful oath.
"The sentinel has disappeared," he said. "Undoubtedly he was in league with them, perhaps an American whom we took to be a faithful Tory. We will capture this Wildfoot before morning, and you shall help."
I exchanged a word or two with Vivian, and found that he was not badly hurt. A small bone in his left arm was broken by the bullet, but it would heal perfectly in a week or two. Then I hurried out with Sir William and Graves.