“Then I’m astonished,” the officer went on, “that you and men like you, who know what war is really like, should come over here, and spend your money and risk your lives and liberty, without the hope of doing anything more than cause us a certain amount of bother. As a soldier, you must know that you have no earthly chance of success. The odds are ten thousand to one against you.” The O’Mahony’s eyes permitted themselves a momentary twinkle. “Well, now, mister,” he said, carelessly; “I dunno so much about that. Take you an’ me, now, f’r instance, jest as we stand: I don’t reckon that bettin’ men ’u’d precisely tumble over one another in the rush to put their money on _you_. Maybe I’m no judge, but that’s the way it looks to me. What do you think yourself, now--honest Injun?” The Englishman was not responsive to this light view of the situation. He frowned again, and pettishly shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, I did not refer to _that!_” he said. “My misadventure is ridiculous and--ah--personally inconvenient--but it--ah--isn’t war. You take nothing by it.” “Oh, yes--I’ve taken a good deal--too much, in fact,” said The O’Mahony, going off into a brown study over the burden of his acquisitions which his words conjured up. He paced up and down beside his prisoner for a minute or two. Then he halted, and turned to him for counsel. “What do you think, yourself, would be the best thing for me to do with you, now’t I’ve got you?” he asked. “Oh--really!--really, I must decline to advise with you upon the subject,” the other replied, frostily. “On the one hand,” mused The O’Mahony, aloud, “you got scooped in afore you had time to fire a shot, or do any mischief at all--so ’t we don’t owe you no grudge, so to speak. Well, that’s in your favor. And then there’s your mouth rammed full of gun-waste--that ought to count some on your side, too.” The Englishman looked at him, curiosity struggling with dislike in his glance, but said nothing. “On ’t’ other hand,” pursued The O’Mahony, “you ain’t quite a prisoner of war, because you was openly dealin’ with a traitor and spy, and playin’ to come the gouge game over me an’ my men. That’s a good deal ag’in’ you. For sake of argument, let’s say the thing is a saw-off, so far as what’s happened already is concerned. The big question is: What’s goin’ to happen?” “Really--” the officer began again, and then closed his lips abruptly. “Yes,” the other went on, “that’s where the shoe pinches. I s’pose now, if I was to land you on the coast yonder, anywhere, you wouldn’t give your word to not start an alarm for forty-eight hours, would you?” “Certainly not!” said the Englishman, with prompt decision. “No, I thought not. Of course, the alarm’s been given hours ago, but your men didn’t see me, or git enough of a notion of my outfit to make their description dangerous. It’s different with you.” The officer nodded his head to indicate that he was becoming interested in the situation, and saw the point.