wear solemnly that if you raise your voice above a whisper, or fail
to run at your best pace, I'll thrust this knife into your heart with
the certainty of killing you."

"Would you do murder?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, and I knew from the
tremor of his voice that he was in an agony of fear.

"It will not be murder to kill such as you, and I shall have no
hesitation in doing so unless you obey every command promptly."

During such time as we had been speaking the pace was not slackened, and
that the cowardly cur had lost all heart, I understood when he forged
ahead at his best speed, as if believing implicitly in the threat I had
made.

Running swiftly we were soon on the shore of the mill pond, having
arrived without seeing or hearing anything to betoken pursuit, and
believing it safe to slacken the pace that I might reserve my strength
in case we were come to that pass where I must release the prisoner in
order to save my own skin, I allowed the Tory cur to walk, but took good
care to keep a firm grip on his collar as I mentally asked myself how it
would be possible to rid myself of the prisoner with due regard to
safety.

I began to realize that I had made an awkward capture; that I had under
my hand one whom I dared not set free, and could not take with me. It
was a most perplexing situation, and during a few seconds I well nigh
lost heart because of having thus plunged my comrades into yet greater
difficulties.

[Illustration: "'WOULD YOU DO MURDER?'"]

Yet what other could I have done? If, when he accosted me, I had turned
to flee, he would have followed, and within two or three minutes a score
of lobster backs must have been on my trail, when there could be no
chance of escape. My only safety lay in holding fast to him, and yet by
so doing was I increasing the peril.

He must have fancied I had grown faint-hearted to a certain degree, for
as we walked on by the shore of the mill pond, he obeying every motion
of mine as does a dog that has been whipped, the scoundrel began to
whimper, being fool enough to think that by the use of soft words he
could make his standing good once more.

"You do me wrong, Luke Wright, when you believe I led the Britishers up
to Barton's point that night you were embarking for Hog island."

"Who has accused you of doing that?" I cried, giving way to temper
because he should believe he might make excuses for his treachery.

"You have much the same as said so," he whined.