"If you order a rest, I cannot do anything but obey, Captain Brentford," concluded Deck, and walked to the spot indicated.
At the tent where they had stopped, his coat had been wrung out for him and his boots emptied, so he was not so badly off as might be supposed, although far from as comfortable as he would have been had his garments been dry. He was now totally unarmed, even his sabre, extra pistol, and pocket knife having been taken from him. In addition to this his hands had been tied loosely together behind his back.
There was a large, flat rock under the tree designated, and Deck deposited himself on this, in the shelter of the slight breeze that was blowing. The captain took up a position opposite, so that he had a square view of his prisoner's face.
"Major Lyon, I think I am safe in making you a proposal," he began, after a moment's pause.
"What sort of a proposal, Captain Brentford?"
"I think you would rather recross the creek and join your command than go ahead to where I am to take you."
"That goes without saying."
"Exactly. And that being so, supposing we try to come to terms."
"I must confess I don't understand you," said Deck, much puzzled by his captor's words.
"It is too bad that I must speak plainer. You wish to return to the Union lines. Very well, what is it worth to you?"