"Now listen to me, you deserter," he began sternly, still behind his man. "I've got you where I want you. You can't get away from me. If you try to you'll only succeed in shutting off your own wind. So don't start anything. I've put your arms out of business, too. You've still got a pair of legs, though, and you're going to use 'em. We're going to start now for somewhere. You'll be ahead and I'll be about two feet behind you, treading on your heels. We'll follow the railroad track until we get to some place where I can hand you over as a deserter. But before we start you're going to tell me a few things." Bixton's only reply was a series of violent jerks that soon ceased. Half-strangled by his efforts, and still groggy from his recent punishment, he soon ceased struggling, and stood still. "Thank you." Jimmy's voice quivered with irony. "Now I guess we're ready for our talk. First, where did you get that list of poisons, and that bottle of powdered glass that you put in Schnitzel's suitcase? I know you stole our letters, and put 'em with the other stuff." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Don't lie. You do know. Answer me with the truth." Jimmy jerked the halter. "Stop that! Do you want to kill me?" "You won't die. Don't worry about that. Now tell me quick, or I'll repeat my little halter stunt." Realizing that he had a coward, as well as a villain to deal with, Jimmy pretended a cold-bloodedness which he did not feel. He had no desire to do Bixton personal injury. He was merely set on wringing a confession from him. "I don't know anything about a poison list," quavered Bixton. "I pounded up the glass myself, and put it in that Fritzie's suitcase for a joke. I took your letters to get even with you. I kept 'em till I got a chance to stick 'em onto Schnitz when they'd raise a fuss." "It's a pretty streaked joke that will put a man in prison on a murder charge. Anyway, you've admitted it. You'll do it again as soon as we get to where you can make a full confession and sign it. After that you can answer to a charge for deserting from the Service. Now, Forward March, and remember I'm right with you. The track's straight ahead." It is difficult for one man, wholly unimpeded, to travel sure-footedly in the darkness. A journey such as Jimmy made that night, in company with Bixton, he regarded ever afterward as the supreme feat of his military career. The night wore on, and the fog lifted, but still that strangely assorted pair tramped the ties, stepping off twice to let trains go by them, which Jimmy vainly hailed. Toward five o'clock the myriad lights of a large town began to gleam ahead of them. Traveling with such painful slowness, Jimmy had no idea of how far they had walked. Neither did he care. All he wanted was to reach some place where he could rid himself of his detested captive.