I had been examining the men with great attention. The one who was nearest to us was large, dark, and apparently very powerful. His figure did not appear altogether strange to me. I was vexing my brain in an endeavor to account for the recollection, when Marcel leaned over and whispered to me,-- "Behold him, Chester. It is the lively gentleman who chased us so hotly when we fled into the arms of our friends the British." "What is that you say?" asked Blake, who saw Marcel whispering to me. "I was reminding Lieutenant Melville," replied Marcel, "that we had unexpectedly renewed an acquaintance. The large man who sits nearest to us is the leader of the band who chased us into the midst of your troop the other day." "We failed to take him then," responded Blake, quickly, "but I do not think he can escape us now." "It would be a pity to use arms on such skulkers," said Belfort. "They should be lashed into submission with whips." A hot reply was rising to my lips, but Blake said lightly: "Then we will even delegate the task of lashing them to you, Belfort. We will look on while you ride forward and perform your duty. But wait! what does that fellow mean?" The large man had taken notice of us apparently for the first time. With deliberate action he hoisted a piece of white cloth on the muzzle of his gun-barrel, and then began to ride slowly towards us. "Does he mean that they surrender?" asked Blake. "I think not," said Marcel. "That is a flag of truce. He wishes to confer with you." "I would hold no conference with him," said Belfort. "He is a rebel and not worthy of it. Let us ride forward and shoot them down." "Not so," said Blake; "we must recognize a certain degree of belligerency in them, rebels though they be, and we will hear what he may have to say. Let no one raise a weapon against him while he bears that white flag. The honor of England forbids it." Belfort was silent under the rebuke, but I could see that it stung him. The American continued to approach, but when he was midway between us and his companions he stopped. "Come," said Blake, "we will meet him." Accompanied by a party of officers--Marcel, Belfort, Vivian, and myself among the number--he rode forward. We stopped within speaking-distance of the man, who waited very composedly. Then Blake hailed him and demanded his name and his errand. "I am Captain William Wildfoot, of the American army," said the man, "and I have somewhat to say to you that may be to your profit, if you take heed of it." There were some murmurs in our group when the famous ranger so boldly announced himself, and Blake said, in an undertone, "It would in truth be a great mischance if the fellow escaped us now." Then he said to Wildfoot: "We have heard of you, and I may say have been looking for you, but did not expect that you would come to meet us. What is your message?"