"Is that your family name, or only a borried one?"
"It is my real name," replied Vernon, not a little perplexed by the coolness and method of the woodman's queries.
"I rather guess not," suggested Jerry, mildly.
"'Pon my honor—"
"Think again,—maybe you mought fotch the real one to your mind."
Vernon, whose temper was not particularly gentle under contradiction, was nettled, and disposed to be angry.
"Perhaps you know best," said he, conquering his passion, and assuming one of those peculiarly convincing smiles, which must be an hereditary possession in the family of the "father of lies."
"Perhaps I do," replied Jerry. "If you don't know any better than that, why, then, I do know best. It arn't Vernon."
"It is not manly, captain, to insult a prisoner," replied Vernon, with an air of dignity, which came from the same source as the liar's smile.
"I don't mean to insult you, stranger; but facts is facts, all over the world," said Jerry, untouched by the other's rebuke.