And then—strange how swiftly, in a flash, in a heartbeat, the mind seizes and accepts a new state of things!—then I knew why Mammy Jacks had brought no light and no supper. I heard her voice, excited, tearful, protesting, raised in the unrestrained vehemence of the black; and a man’s voice that silenced her harshly, silenced her with an oath. And therewith I needed no more to explain the position. I grasped it. When a few seconds later the door was flung open, and the light broke in upon me, and with the light three or four rough burly figures, who crowded one after the other over the threshold, I was prepared. I had had that moment of warning, and I was ready. There were scared black faces behind them, filling the doorway, and peeping athwart them, and murmurs, and a stir of panic proceeding from the room without. “You come without much ceremony, gentlemen,” I said, speaking as coolly as I could. For the moment I had only one thought, one aim, one anxiety—that what I felt should not appear. “Ceremony? Oh, d—n your ceremony!” cried the first to enter. And he called for a candle that he might see what he was doing. When it was handed in I saw them. They were a grim, rough group, the man who had called for the candle the least ill-looking among them; as he was also the smallest and perhaps the most dangerous. They all wore wide-leafed hats and carried guns and were hung about with pouches and weapons. They stared down at me, and I stared steadily at them. “You’ve got to swap your bed for the road,” the leader continued in the same brutal tone. “We think you’ll be safer, where we’re going to take you, mister.” “And where’s that?” I asked—though I knew very well. “To Salisbury,” he said. But his grin gave the lie to his words. “I am afraid that is too long a journey, gentlemen,” I answered. “I could not go so far. I am quite helpless.” “Oh, you’ll be helped to make the journey,” he retorted; and they all laughed, as at a good jest. “You’ll not find it long, either,” he continued, “you can trust us for that. We’re not set on long journeys ourselves. We must go with you a piece of the way, so we’ll shorten it, depend upon it!” “I am Captain Wilmer’s prisoner,” I said clutching at what I knew was a straw. “He placed me here, and you will have to answer to him, gentlemen, for anything you may do.” “We’ll answer him,” growled one of the other men. “I don’t think you’ll be there to complain,” he added with meaning. I tried to calculate the chances, but there were none. I could not resist, I was crippled and unarmed. I could not escape. I was in their hands and at their mercy. “I ask you to note,” I said, “that I am a prisoner of war, duly admitted to quarter.” “And why not?” the last speaker retorted with a curse. “Ain’t we going to take you to Head-Quarters? And the shortest way?” with a wink at the others.