"Yea, and that somewhere on this very road," replied John Coram in a fearful whisper.
'Twas now my turn to glance around and scan the trees, especially a thick-leaved oak just opposite.
"How know you this?" I asked at last.
"Why, in this fashion," answered Coram. "As I stood on guard last night a mile or so from here, I heard sly, slinking footsteps coming from the shadow of a wood. 'Who goes there?' I cried, and someone gave the password of the night."
"Zion!" I put in with a smile, remembering how well the word had served me also. John Coram started.
"Yea, verily," said he; "but--but how came you by it?"
"Why, man," I laughed, "you gave it me last evening at the 'George'!"
"Now, by my life," he muttered, "I have a dim remembrance that 'twas so, though verily my pate was somewhat addled with--Hum! where was I? Ah! as I was saying, that fellow gave the word and so I let him pass. Off he went, a long-cloaked thing of black, into the darkness. But when he was some half-score yards beyond me he turned his face, the moonlight caught it, and I knew it instantly for Israel Stark's."
"Ah! and what did you then?" I put in eagerly.
"Did!" echoed Coram, spreading out his hands. "Friend, I did naught, and shame on me for it. So struck was I that I could neither draw a pistol nor pursue. I stood as stiff as any post, and watched the varlet fly. And fly he did; for, look you, he had known me also by that glance, and so sped off into the darkness like some spirit. The Evil One himself could not have vanished swifter. Heavens, friend! it makes me go quite chilly just to think on't!"