[He points to the embankment. Andrew and Ellen draw back.
THE FIGURE. [Straightening the flag-standard, and leaning on it.] Desartin'?
ANDREW. [Puts Ellen behind him.] Who's there? The watchword!
THE FIGURE. God save the smart folks!
JOEL. [To Andrew.] He's on to us. Pickle him quiet, or it's court martial! [Showing a long knife.] Shall I give him this?
ANDREW. [Taking it from him.] No. I will.
ELLEN. [Seizing his arm.] Andrew!
ANDREW. Let go.
[The Figure, descending into the intrenchment, approaches with face muffled. Joel draws Ellen away. Andrew moves toward the Figure slowly. They meet and pause.
ANDREW. You're a spy!