“I believe you,” said Bernard. “Now you have not much reason to waste your love on this Major Hansford. He threatened to beat you, as you say, and a freeborn Englishman does not bear an insult like that with impunity.” “No, your honour,” replied the man, “and I've known the day when a Plymouth cloak[44] would protect me from insult as well as a frieze coat from cold. But I am too old for that now, and so I had better swallow an insult dry, than butter it with my own marrow.” “And are there not other modes of revenge than by a blow? Where are your wits, man? What makes the man stronger than the horse that carries him? I tell you, a keen wit is to physical force what your carbine is to the tomahawk of these red-skins. It fires at a distance.” The old soldier looked up with a gleam of intelligence, and Bernard continued— “Bethink you, did you hear nothing from Hansford by which you might infer that his ultimate design was to overturn the government?” “Why I can't exactly say that I did,” returned the fellow. “To be sure they all prate about liberty and the like, but I reckon that is an Englishman's privilege, providing he takes it out in talking. But there may be fire in the bed-straw for all my ignorance.”[45] “Well, I am sorry for you,” said Bernard, “for if you could only remember any thing to convict this young rebel, I would warrant you a free pardon and a sound neck.” “Well, now, as I come to think of it,” said the unscrupulous renegade, “there might be some few things he let drop, not much in themselves, but taken together, as might weave a right strong tow; and zounds, I don't think a man can be far wrong to untwist the rope about his own neck by tying it to another. For concerning of life, your honour, while I have no great care to risk it in battle, I don't crave to choke it out with one of these hemp cravats. And so being as I have already done the state some service, I feel it my duty to save her if I can.” “Now, thanks to that catch-word of the rogue,” muttered Bernard, “I am like to have easy work to-night. Hark ye, Mr. Berkenhead,” he added, aloud, “I think it is likely that the Governor may wish to ask you a question or two touching this matter of which we have been speaking. In the meantime here is something which may help you to get along with these soldiers,” and he placed a sovereign in the fellow's hand. “Thank your honour,” said Berkenhead, humbly, “and seeing its not in the way of bribe, I suppose I may take it.” “Oh, no bribe,” replied Bernard, smiling, “but mark me, tell a good story. The stronger your evidence the safer is your head.” Bernard returned, as we have seen, to the Governor, for the further development of his diabolical designs, and in a short time Berkenhead, under a guard of soldiers, was conducted to his quarters for the night, in a store-house which stood in the yard some distance from the house.