“Now, how long might it have been,” he asked, “before we showed up, that you seen us?”
“I saw you,” Miss Farrar said, “when Mr.—when that bicycle scout was talking to me. I saw the red bands on your hats among the bushes.”
The sergeant appeared interested.
“But why didn’t you let on to him?”
Miss Farrar laughed evasively.
“Maybe because I am from New York, too,” she said. “Perhaps I wanted to see soldiers from my city take a prisoner.”
They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the smaller soldier. On his rat-like countenance was written deep concern.
“When I got to the turn,” he began, breathlessly, “I couldn’t see him. Where did he go? Did he double back through the woods, or did he have time to ride out of sight before I got there?”
The reappearance of his comrade affected the sergeant strangely. He sprang to his feet, his under jaw protruding truculently, his eyes flashing with anger.
“Get back,” he snarled. “Do what I told you!”