ed on one side to allow the other to pass.
Spikeman noticed the desire,--for it was too marked not to be
observed; and in a new country, even strangers are not in the habit of
passing one another without greeting,--but he paid no attention to it;
and as he came up, laid his hand on Philip's shoulder, and bade him a
good morning.

The soldier started as though pierced by a thorn, and shaking off the
hand roughly, requested the Assistant to go on his way and leave him
to himself.

"How now," exclaimed Spikeman. "Methinks this is cold welcome for a
friend."

"Pass on thy way," said the soldier. "I desire not thy company."

"Verily, am I amazed," said Spikeman. "Surely, to confer a favor on
the unthankful, is like pouring water on sand."

"I do advise thee, Master Spikeman," said Philip, "to cease thine
abuse. I am no longer a fool stumbling along with his eyes blinded."

The curiosity of the Assistant had been aroused at the beginning, and
he determined to ascertain how far Philip's knowledge of his conduct
extended, for his guilty conscience whispered that some discovery of
the soldier occasioned the changed behavior. It might be caused only
by suspicion, and if so, he trusted by his ingenuity to dispel it; but
if he had been betrayed, it was important that he should know it. The
Assistant, moreover, was curious to learn from the soldier himself,
why he had not broken jail as advised. He concluded that the soldier
had not; for had he done so, the escape would probably have been known
by morning; yet was Spikeman confident that Philip at the time of
their interview in the jail had no knowledge of the order for his
release. Perhaps Bars had overcome in the struggle, and disregarded
it. With doubts like these floating through his mind, he began to
probe Philip.

"What ails thee?" he inquired. "It would seem as if you took me for an
enemy, and yet have I not always approved myself thy friend, even
jeopardizing my position as a magistrate no longer ago than
yesternight to release thee from jail?"

"Master Spikeman," answered Philip, "thou dost well know, I doubt not,
that I am at liberty, not because I did by thy advice knock out the
brains of harmless Sam Bars, but by the grace of the Governor's
order."

"I counselled no more violence than was necessary to effect thy
purpose; but who moved the Governor in thy case?

"Not thou, as I am well advised, but the noble Knight of the Golden
Melice, a man as much superio