is horse, and, trusting to the animal's manifest
habit of awaiting orders, stopped not to tie it, but plunged directly
into the wood, drawing his sword as he went.

The sound of the man's flight had ceased, but Philip continued in the
direction it had first taken. He was about to cross a row of low
bushes, when he unexpectedly felt his ankle caught by a hand, and
himself thrown forward on his face. The man had crouched amongst the
bushes and tripped him up as he made to pass.

The next moment, the man was on Philip's back, fumbling to grasp his
neck, and muttering:

"Tell me who you are, quick! Who are you from? You don't wear the
dragoon cap, I see. Now speak the truth, or by God I'll shoot your
head off!"

Philip knew, at the first word, the voice of Ned Faringfield. It took
him not an instant to perceive who was a chief--if not _the_
chief--traitor in the affair, or to solve what had long been to him
also a problem, that of Ned's presence in the rebel army. The
recognition of voice had evidently not been mutual; doubtless this was
because Philip's few words had been spoken huskily. Retaining his
hoarseness, and taking his cue from Ned's allusion to the dragoon cap,
he replied:

"'Tis all right. You're our man, I see. Though I don't wear the
dragoon cap, I come from New York about Captain Falconer's business."

"Then why the hell didn't you give the word?" said Ned, releasing his
pressure upon Philip's body.

"You didn't ask for it. Get up--you're breaking my back."

Ned arose, relieving Philip of all weight, but stood over him with a
pistol.

"Then give it now," Ned commanded.

"I'll be hanged if you haven't knocked it clean out of my head,"
replied Philip. "Let me think a moment--I have the cursedest memory."

He rose with a slowness, and an appearance of weakness, both mainly
assumed. He still held his sword, which, happily for him, had turned
flat under him as he fell. When he was quite erect, he suddenly flung
up the sword so as to knock the pistol out of aim, dashed forward with
all his weight, and, catching Ned by the throat with both hands, bore
him down upon his side among the briars, and planted a knee upon his
neck. Instantly shortening his sword, he held the point close above
Ned's eye.

"Now," said Phil, "let that pistol fall! Let it fall, I say, or I'll
run my sword into your brain. That's well. You traitor, shall I kill
you now? or take you into camp and let you hang for your treason?"