Our pause had given him breath, and he stood awaiting my attack like one who fights with his fists in the ring. My loaded pistol was in my belt, but he did not seem to think that I would use it; nor did I think of it myself. His, unloaded, lay on the ground. I advanced upon him, and with his right fist he struck very swiftly at my face. I thrust my head to one side and the blow glanced off the hard part of it, leaving his own face unprotected. I could have dealt him a heavy return blow that would have made his face look less like his sister Kate’s, but I preferred to close with him and seize him in my grasp.
Though lighter than I he was agile, and sought to trip me, or by some dexterous turn otherwise to gain advantage of me. But I was wary, knowing full well that I ought to be so, and presently I brought him down in a heap, falling upon him with such force that he lay a few moments as if stunned, though it was but the breath knocked out of him.
“Do you give up?” I asked, when he had returned to speaking condition.
“Yes,” he replied. “You were always too strong for me, Dick.”
Which was true, for there never was a time, even when we were little boys, when I could not throw him, though I do not say it as a boast, since there were others who could throw me.
“Do you make complete and unconditional surrender to me as the sole present representative of the American army, and promise to make no further effort to escape?” asked I, somewhat amazed at the length of my own words, and a little proud of them too.
“Yes, Dick, confound it! Get off my chest! How do you expect me to breathe?” he replied with a somewhat unreasonable show of temper.
I dismounted and he sat up, thumping his chest and drawing very long breaths as if he wished to be sure that everything was right inside. When he had finished his examination, which seemed to be satisfactory, he said:
“I’m your prisoner, Dick. What do you intend to do with me?”