But the colonel would hear nothing. He was beside himself with wrath, and could not listen to reason. The men had stopped when Ephraim began to speak, and now their commander turned furiously upon them. ‘Why don’t you obey orders?’ he shouted at them. ‘I’ll have you shot for mutiny if you stand gaping there much longer. Up with them, I say.’ ‘Cunnel!’ shrieked Ephraim in an agony of unselfish fear. ‘Cunnel, don’t do it. As ye’re a Christian man, don’t do it. Ye may string me up, and willin’. I’m a outrageous rebel. I’m a spy. I’m whatever you like. I came ter make observations. I’m a spy, I tell ye. Hang me up. But don’t you tech Luce. He ain’t done nuthin’. He on’y came because I told him I wuz goin’ fer a trip. He knows nuthin’—he’s done nuthin’. Let him go! Let him go!’ ‘Pah!’ ejaculated the colonel. ‘Do you suppose I don’t see your game? You can’t take me in with your heroics, you filthy cur, you.’ And he spurned Ephraim with his foot. A mist swam before Luce’s eyes. His blood boiled over, and, regardless of the consequences, he rushed forward. ‘You lie!’ he shouted. ‘It is for me he wants to die. This is the second time to-day. Take that!’ and before the astonished colonel could comprehend or step aside, the infuriated boy struck him twice sharply in the face. A look as though he were possessed came into the colonel’s eyes, and his fingers closed nervously upon his revolver; but ere he could use it, if indeed it were his intention to do so, Ephraim stooped suddenly, and catching him round the legs, flung him sprawling on his back. Then, with a wild yell of ‘Run! Luce, run!’ he rushed for the shelter of the woods. After him dashed Lucius, hard upon his heels, as the colonel, foaming and spluttering, staggered to his feet and discharged his revolver at random. ‘Follow them!’ he roared. And the men, alarmed at what might be the consequences to themselves if they refused, hastened in pursuit. But they had no heart for the game, and once out of sight among the trees, halted or scattered, and presently the fugitives, doubling like hares in and out of the dark boles, heard the noise of following footsteps die away, and sank, panting and exhausted, on the mossy carpet beneath an aged oak. [Illustration] CHAPTER VI. A FREE BREAKFAST. ‘By time!’ gasped Ephraim, struggling to recover his breath. ‘Thet war a narrow squeak. Hi! Luce, how ye plugged him.’ He chuckled gleefully. Lucius only nodded. He was too short of wind to attempt to speak. ‘If I’d on’y had my gun, I’d hev gin him ez good ez he gin me and better,’ went on Ephraim. ‘D’ye reckon he war in ’arnest, Luce, with his talk about hangin’, or war it on’y jest ter skeer us ’cause we riled him?’ ‘Just—as—well—got—away—think he—meant it,’ panted Lucius, still breathless.