"By heavens, this savors much of impertinence!" said Blake. "How came they there?"
"We do not know," responded Vivian. "One of the men called my attention, and we saw them sitting there just as they are now."
I had been examining the men with great attention. The one who was nearest to us was large, dark, and apparently very powerful. His figure did not appear altogether strange to me. I was vexing my brain in an endeavor to account for the recollection, when Marcel leaned over and whispered to me,—
"Behold him, Chester. It is the lively gentleman who chased us so hotly when we fled into the arms of our friends the British."
"What is that you say?" asked Blake, who saw Marcel whispering to me.
"I was reminding Lieutenant Melville," replied Marcel, "that we had unexpectedly renewed an acquaintance. The large man who sits nearest to us is the leader of the band who chased us into the midst of your troop the other day."
"We failed to take him then," responded Blake, quickly, "but I do not think he can escape us now."
"It would be a pity to use arms on such skulkers," said Belfort. "They should be lashed into submission with whips."
A hot reply was rising to my lips, but Blake said lightly: "Then we will even delegate the task of lashing them to you, Belfort. We will look on while you ride forward and perform your duty. But wait! what does that fellow mean?"
The large man had taken notice of us apparently for the first time. With deliberate action he hoisted a piece of white cloth on the muzzle of his gun-barrel, and then began to ride slowly towards us.