“Can’t you guess?” For the first time the man’s voice had a troubled sound. “It was when you got so mad. Your eyes blazed just as _hers_ always did, and then all at once I could see your baby face--changed a lot, but looking right out at me. You always looked like mother.” Neil’s hand closed on the horn of the side-saddle. The name “Sandy Davidson” had not prepared him; the resemblance had seemed only an added insult. “You needn’t be afraid,” the other said, noticing how pale he had grown under his tan. “Since I heard of you in Greene’s army I’ve vowed I’d catch you, and now I have. Our family has done enough against the king. But I’ll see that nobody hurts you.” Neil straightened himself with a jerk. His timidity was gone and his bewilderment was yielding to an understanding of what his mother had meant when she said that the Tories had killed Sandy. “And since I’ve heard of a Tory with my brother’s name, I’ve vowed to capture _him_!” he cried. “I’ve vowed that no Tory named Sandy Davidson should live, for mother said they’d killed you.” The other gave an impatient laugh. “Why don’t you capture me, then?” he asked. “Here I am. I told mother I was on the king’s side, and she said I was dead to her. She was growing crazy and driving me crazy begging me to revenge father’s death, when father was a rebel and deserved what he got. She drove me out of the house when I said I was a king’s man.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to put an end to accounting for himself. “Of course you’ve got messages on you, or you’d not be disguised. Hand them over and it will save you trouble. I’m your very affectionate brother, though you would like to collect that reward for me, but I can tell you Tarleton’s a very affectionate brother to nobody!” The sunbonnet with the letter in it was still in the front of Sandy’s hunting-shirt. “You can search me,” Neil said. “You’ll find no letters.” “Then what were you sent for?” “To practise riding on a side-saddle. You noticed that I don’t take very kindly to sitting this way.” “You’re pretty cool for a prisoner,” Sandy said approvingly. “I’ll search you fast enough, but I reckon we’ll be as good friends as when you wore dresses all the time.” “Don’t think it!” Neil cried out. “Don’t think I’ll ever----” He checked himself, remembering that he was absolutely powerless in the hands of a man whose name stood for that all was unmerciful. If there was any kindly feeling left in such a man, Neil would need it. The trample of feet grew louder, and the brothers waited in silence, half-concealed by the clump of bushes on which the bonnet had caught. Neil was busy with the possibilities of getting away. He looked at his brother critically, trying to judge what might be expected of him. Hard living, hard fighting, and cruelty had left strangely slight marks upon Sandy. His face was almost noble, suggesting possibilities which he was fast outliving.