"How's the prisoner?" he cried.
"Oh, he's all right. There's nothing the matter with him," I said; and, as I spoke, I moved the lantern, so that the boy's face and figure were again in shadow.
"That's all right," observed Denny, cheerfully. "Because I thought, Charlie, we might get a little information out of him."
"Perhaps he won't speak," I suggested, casting a glance at the captive, who sat now motionless in the chair.
"Oh, I think he will," said Denny, confidently; and I observed for the first time that he held a very substantial looking whip in his hand; he must have found it in the kitchen. "We'll give the young ruffian a taste of this, if he's obstinate," said Denny; and I cannot say that his tone witnessed any great desire that the boy should prove at once compliant.
I shifted my lantern so that I could see the proud young face while Denny could not. The boy's eyes met mine defiantly.
"You hear what he proposes?" I asked. "Will you tell us all we want to know?"
The boy made no answer, but I saw trouble in his face, and his eyes did not meet mine so boldly now.
"We'll soon find a tongue for him," said Denny, in cheerful barbarity; "upon my word, he richly deserves a thrashing. Say the word, Charlie."
"We haven't asked him anything yet," said I.