Chudleigh, with only his head above water, was not especially beautiful to look at. The dirt with which he had disguised himself when he played false guide to us was washed off partly, and remained partly in streaks of mud, which made him look as if a hot gridiron had been slapped of a sudden upon his face. Moreover, Chudleigh was angry, very angry; his eyes snapped as if he were wondering why I could not let him alone. I may have looked as ugly as Chudleigh, but I could not see for myself. I swam a little closer to him, looking him straight in the eye, in order that I might see what he intended to do the moment he thought it. “Why do you follow me?” he asked, with much anger in his tone. “Why do you run from me?” I asked. “What I do is no business of yours,” he said. “Oh, yes, it is,” I replied. “You’re Captain Chudleigh of the British army, an escaped prisoner, and I’ve come to recapture you.” “I don’t see how you’re going to do it,” he said. “I do,” I replied, though, to tell the truth, I had not yet thought of a way to manage the matter, which seemed to present difficulties. In the meantime I confined myself to treading water. Chudleigh did the same. “That was a dirty trick you played on us back there,” I said, “palming yourself off on us as a guide.” “I didn’t do it,” he replied in an injured tone. “You’re to blame yourself. You forced me at the pistol’s muzzle.” He told the truth, I was forced to confess. “We’ll let that pass,” I said. “Now, will you surrender?” “Never!” he replied, in manner most determined. “Then you will force me to a violent recapture,” I said. “I fail to see how you are going to do it,” he said with much grimness. “If you seize me here in the water, I will seize you, and then we will drown together, which will be very unpleasant for both of us.” There was much truth in what he said. A blind man or a fool could see it. “Let us swim to land and fight it out with our fists,” I proposed, remembering how I had overcome Albert, and confident that I could dispose of Chudleigh in similar fashion. “Oh, no,” he said decidedly, “I am very comfortable where I am.” “Then you like water better than most British officers,” I said. “It has its uses,” he replied contentedly. There was nothing more to do just then but to tread water and think. “Come, come, captain,” I said after a while, “be reasonable. I’ve overtaken you. You can’t get away. Surrender like a gentleman, and let’s go ashore and dry ourselves. This water’s getting cold.” “I see no reason why I should surrender,” he replied. “Besides, the water is no colder for you than it is for me.”