As soon as he was gone I bethought me of my prisoner, whose situation for the time had quite passed from my mind; and, hastening back where I had left Moric Endem, I found my worthy lieutenant busily engaged in making preparations for rendering the hovel a somewhat more comfortable dwelling. As, however, it had been now arranged that I was to take up my abode in the house which had been hired for the young merchant, the adorning of what he termed my lodging was no longer necessary; and, on inquiring after the prisoner, I found that they had put him in a sort of back shed, where the old woman I had before seen was even then in the act of dressing the wound on his head. On entering, I found a sentry at the door, and the prisoner with his hands tied, and very indignant at the treatment he had received. I was informed, however, that he had twice endeavoured to make his escape, and I therefore thought that few apologies were necessary. In justification of his conduct, he said that he had never surrendered, rescue or no rescue; and in consequence, before I would suffer his hands to be untied, I made him pronounce these words, something against his will. Although he was undoubtedly brave and high-spirited, I never yet saw man more full of loud-tongued bravado: and I thought that, before he had vented his indignation, he would literally have tried to cut my throat in the shed. I listened to all he had to say with much more coolness than he seemed to think respectful, and merely replied while I uncovered my arm, that the old woman might exercise her skill upon me also, "Sir, you are a prisoner, and therefore privileged to rail." Before his hands had been untied for five minutes, however, he approached, looked at my arm, and said, "That's an awkward wound. How did you come by that, sir!" "It is your handiwork, my good friend," I replied. "It was well it didn't go through my body." "Indeed, indeed!" he cried, rubbing his hands; and I must say I never saw a person more heartily rejoiced at anything in my life than he was that he had given me the wound under which I was then suffering. "Well," he added at length, "I suppose I must forgive you for tying my hands, after such a wound as that; and now tell me, at what ransom do you intend to put me?" "I know who you are," I replied, "and all about you; and I must say you have shown yourself a gallant soldier, though somewhat rash withal. You know of what consequence you are as well as I do, or better, and therefore I shall leave you to name your own ransom; so now let us see what you value yourself at." I was not wrong in my calculation. To say the truth, I had been very much puzzled at what rate to fix his ransom myself; but, in trusting to his vanity to do it, I knew I could not be very far wrong. He hesitated, however, and said, "If you know who I am and all about me, you had better fix it."