"Yes," replied Henry quietly, "and bear in mind that I held your life in my hands. Had you been an Indian you would be dead now."
"I won't forget it," said the youth, who seemed honest enough, "and I'm not going to cry out and bring the warriors down upon you for two very good reasons—because I've promised not to do so, and if I did, I know that your comrade there would shoot me down the next instant."
"I shorely would," said Shif'less Sol, grimly.
"And now," said Henry, "what is your name and what are you doing here?"
"My name is Roderick Cawthorne, I'm a subaltern in the British army, and I came over to help put down the rebels, in accordance with my duty to my king and country. All this land is under our rule."
"Do you think so?" asked Henry. "Do you think that this wilderness, which extends a thousand miles in every direction, is under your rule?"
The young subaltern looked around at the dark forest and shivered a little.
"Technically, yes," he replied, "but it's a long way from Eton."
"What's Eton?"
"Eton is a school in England, a school for the sons of gentlemen."