“Did your honour plaze to spake?” asked Paddy, proceeding to put me back into his pocket.
“My old watch!” cried Charlie, springing forward, and catching hold of my master’s hand. “Give it to me!”
Paddy’s surprise was unbounded. At first he deemed the man mad, then drunk, then gradually it dawned upon him this was not an officer at all, but a highwayman in disguise, seeking to take advantage of his solitude to rob him.
In an instant he sprang back, and, seizing his rifle, levelled the bayonet to within an inch of Charlie’s heart.
“Now, ye thievin’ blackguard,” said he, “move an inch and I’ll stick ye like a pig. Arrah! but ye came to the wrong boy when ye thought to play your tricks on me! Stan’ still now, or as sure as you’re alive you’re a dead man;” and he gave Charlie a suggestive touch with the point of his weapon, which showed plainly he had every intention of being as good as his word.
Here was a predicament! and I could do nothing to help.
Charlie, fairly penned in a corner, was at a loss what to say or do. He began in an angry strain,—
“Don’t be a fool, sir; do you—”
“Howld yer tongue!” roared Paddy, giving another poke with his bayonet.
Then Charlie attempted to laugh, which enraged the sentry all the more.