[Illustration: Colonel Firestone flung his arms about the man's waist, and dragged him out of his saddle.]
"Colonel Garth's dragoons," was the reply.
"And who holds the bridge at Hilsea?"
"Ridge's regiment of foot."
"And the countersign?"
The prisoner made no reply, and Firestone repeated the question, without result.
"A charge from your bandolier, sergeant."
Lawson handed a cartridge to the colonel, who, deliberately breaking the paper, ostentatiously scattered the grains of powder over the right knee of the prostrate man.
"Make ready flint and steel, sergeant," said our leader. "Now, sirrah," he added to his prisoner, "for the last time—the countersign?"