THE RETURN WITH CHUDLEIGH. We climbed up the bank, and sat for some time drying in the sun. We were wet, and, moreover, had drunk large quantities of the Hudson River. As a regular thing, I prefer dry land as a place of inhabitation. While the sun dried our bodies and clothing I was thinking. Though I had taken my man, and that, too, single-handed, my position was not the best in the world. I was now on the wrong side of the river, and I had lost my weapons and my comrades. Also I was hungry. “Chudleigh,” I asked, “are you hungry?” “Rather,” he replied with emphasis. “How are we to get something to eat?” I asked. “That’s your affair, not mine,” he replied. “I have nothing to do but to remain captured.” I thought I saw in him an inclination to be disagreeable, which, to say the truth, was scarce the part of a gentleman after the handsome fashion in which I had treated him. In the face of such ingratitude, I resolved to use the privileges of my superior position. “Are you about dry?” I asked. “Yes.” “Then get up and march.” He seemed to resent my stern tone, but inasmuch as he had provoked it he had no cause for complaint. If he intended to assert all the rights of a prisoner, then I equally would assert all the rights of a captor. “Which way?” he asked. “Northward, along the river bank. Keep in front of me,” I said. Obedient to my orders he stalked off at a pretty gait, and I followed. We marched thus for half a mile. Chudleigh glanced back at me once or twice. I seemed not to notice it, though I could guess what was passing in his mind. “If I hadn’t given my word,” he said, “I think I’d fight it out with you, fist and skull.” “I offered you the chance,” I said, “when we were in the river, but you would not accept it. You’ve heard many wise sayings about lost opportunities, and this proves the truth of them.” “That’s so,” he said with a sigh of deep regret. “Besides,” I added, in the way of consolation for his lost opportunity, “you would gain nothing by it but bruises. I am larger and stronger than you.” He measured me with his eye and concluded that I spoke truth, for he heaved another sigh, but of comfort. “Now, Chudleigh,” I said, “a man can be a fool sometimes and lose nothing, but he can’t be a fool all the time and gather the profits of the earth. Drop back here with me and let us talk and act sensibly.” He wrinkled his brow a moment or two, as if in thought, and accepted my invitation. Whereupon we became very good companions.