The corporal passed from one to another of the captives till he came to Somers; thrusting the lantern into the face of each, so that the officer could scan his features.
“What’s your name?” he asked, as the corporal placed the lantern before Somers.
Not having made up his mind as to the effect of acknowledging his identity with the pilot, he made no reply.
“That’s the man,” said the officer decidedly.
“Is your name Tom Leathers?” added the corporal, as he made a demonstration with his bayonet at the prisoner.
“Put down your musket, corporal; you needn’t be a brute to your prisoners.”
“I only wanted to make him answer the question. If you give me leave, I’ll find a tongue for him.”
“He is the man I want; bring him out,” replied the officer.
“Bring him out? I beg your pardon, sir; but I don’t know who you are. I can’t give up a prisoner without orders.”
The officer, who seemed to be suffering with a bad cold, and wore the collar of his cloak turned up so as to conceal the greater part of his face, opened the lower part of his garment, so that the corporal could see his uniform. At the same time he took from his pocket a paper, which he opened, and handed to the guard.