brought closer to the wind, and lying over somewhat deeply, the helmsman told those on the lee side to change seats. In the movement a man rubbed against Morton, and he felt that his clothes were wet. Looking sharply at him, he saw he was one of the[Pg 10] boat’s crew, when his resemblance to the spy he had seen escape the bullets of the firing-party struck him. The more he looked the more convinced he grew that he was correct, and, improbable as it seemed, within an arm’s length, almost, sat the man he saw plunge into the river and whom he, with everybody else, believed to have been swept into the deadly rapids. With all a soldier’s detestation of a spy, he resolved he should not escape, yet to attempt to seize him in the boat would be to imperil all in it, for that the fellow would make a desperate struggle Morton knew. Prudently resolving to make no move until the boat neared its moorings, he slipped his hand into his breast-pocket and grasped the stock of one of his pistols.

[Pg 10]

As the boat approached the shore the sharply-cut eminence, which Morton had taken to be a fortification, resolved itself into a grassy knoll, destitute of glacis or rampart, and round the eastern extremity of which they glided into a smooth narrow channel, whose margin was fretted by the shadows cast by the trees which leant over from its banks. The sail now flapped uselessly and the order was given to get out the oars. The suspected spy rose with the other boatmen to get them into place and stood on a cross-bench as he lifted a heavy oar to its lock. It was a mere pretence. In a moment his foot was on the gunwale and he made a sudden spring towards the bank.[Pg 11] There was the sound of a plunge, of a few brief strokes by a strong swimmer, a movement among the bushes, and then silence. Morton was intensely excited, he drew his pistol, rose and cocking it fired at random. Turning to the captain of the boat he shouted in fury, “You villain; you have assisted in the escape of a King’s prisoner.” With stolid countenance the captain shifted the helm to suit the windings of the channel, and answered, “Me no spik Ingleese.” Feeling he was powerless, Morton resumed his seat and in a minute or two a cluster of white-washed huts came in view and the boat drew alongside a landing-stage in front of them. Several soldiers were standing on it awaiting them, and on asking where he would find the commissariat officer, Morton was directed to one of the houses, in front of which paced a sentry. Entering he perceived it consisted of two rooms, divided by a board-partition. In the larger end was a woman, surrounded by several children, cooking at an open-fire, and in the other, the door 

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