“I have taken the mark in your service,” replied the other, angrily. “Come away from the rest and I will tell you how.”
The captain followed him to a retired spot, then called upon him to speak.
“I waited in the path for the coming of your enemy until I became weary and fell asleep; their voices woke me as they came, and I started up so quickly that the bush stirred. He was not alone.”
“Ah-ha!”
“No; that cursed spy—for he is nothing better—Bainbridge, was with him. Sturm and wetter! I will have his heart’s blood upon my own account.”
“On with your tale, quick. You fired, did you not?”
“Yes. As the bush stirred, Bainbridge called out to his companion, and he jumped; if he had not done it, a ball would have been in his heart. My curse upon the meddler.”
“Then he escaped?” demanded the other, hoarsely.
“Escaped. Not fully, for my ball struck him on the arm, and there was blood starting through his clothing. Before I could look, that devil, whom we call the peddler, was upon me with an open knife. I had mine in my hand, and made a blow at him. He is quick as a cat; he dodged the knife, and struck at me. You see the result. I lay that wound up against him. I shall do him mischief yet.”
“What did you do then?”