Who are you, and where do you come from?"

"Yes, you are a coward," said the lad bitterly, "or you would not insult
a gentleman lying weak and helpless at your mercy."

Waller felt a little touched.

"Oh, I don't want to insult you," he said: "and perhaps I am as much of
a gentleman as you are. But look here; who are you?"

"You know," said the lad bitterly. "I give up, I tell you. Be content
that you have got the upper hand of me. I won't struggle against fate;
only make me one promise," he continued, in a bitter, mocking tone.

"Well, what is it?" said Waller.

"Come and see your prisoner hung, for I suppose your brutal Dutchmen
will not have me shot."

"I say," said Waller, staring more wonderingly than ever at his
prisoner, "you are using very fine language. Are you a bit off your
head? Who wants to hang or shoot you? What Dutchmen?"

"The enemy--the brutal soldiery, of course."

"I say, look here, I don't know what you are talking about," said
Waller, "and I don't know who you are, only that you jumped out at me
like a highwayman with a pistol. I say, what are you?"

"One of the spies, I suppose," said the boy mockingly. "One of the poor
unfortunate wretches you people are hunting through the woods."

"Nonsense!" cried Waller. "You must be fancying all this. There are no
soldiers here hunting people. Do you know where you are?"

"Yes; in the New Forest."

"That's right, and in the part my father holds the shooting over. But,"
continued Waller, showing his white teeth, "he wouldn't want to shoot
you if he were at home; you are not fat enough. Pooh! Nobody would
want to shoot a boy like you."

"Boy! Who do you call a boy?" cried the poor fellow, flushing up again.

"Why, you, of course. You are no older than I am, and I am a boy."

"Well, never mind that. You have made me a prisoner. What are you
going to do next?"

"Well, I think I am going to pick up that pistol, wherever it lies."

"Bah!" cried the prisoner. "I only did it to scare you off. It isn't
loaded."

"Oh!" said Waller. "Well, that's one to you. I couldn't tell."

"What are you going to do with me now?" said the lad haughtily. "Chain
me?"

"Chain you!" said Waller, laughing, "why, you are not a dog. I am not
going to do anything with you. I don't want you."

"No; but you want the blood-money, I suppose."

"There you go again," cried Waller pettishly. "Chains and blood! I
say, do you know what you ar