Nason ignored him. “So far as we could make out, the two biggest vessels were schooner-rigged. We couldn’t tell about the new one. She looked deep enough to carry a lot of sail. If they started her less than three weeks ago, the way Whitcomb says, it’s hard to see how she’s going to be of much assistance to ’em this fall.”

I breathed more easily, but not for long.

Cap eyed Nason coldly. “I s’pose you was hiding in the bushes when you caught those two fellers.”

“Of course we were,” Nason said. “We went up past St. John’s, and out on the Laprairie road, between St. John’s and Montreal.”

“Gosh!” Cap cried. “Whitcomb went right back where he shot Gordon!”

Nason nodded. “Yes: he figured that was the safest place. He hid in the same clump of bushes that he shot Gordon from. He said the place was so well known that nobody’d ever expect to see him there, and he was right.”

“Gosh all hemlock!” Cap bawled. “I wouldn’t have nothing to do with a feller as reckless as that Whitcomb! Who were these fellers he took?”

“One was quartermaster of the 29th Foot—name of Saunders. The other was his servant: a corporal. Not bad men, once they got broke to our ways.”

“I s’pose they was born out of wedlock,” Cap said, “like so many in the British army.”

When Nason eyed him sternly, Cap assumed a jovial air. “Listen, Stevie; there ain’t no earthly use getting touchy over these fellers. There ain’t nothing I can say about ’em, no matter how hard I try or how dirty I talk, that’ll be half as bad as the things they’ll say about us when they go home. Prob’ly this Saunders offered you half a dollar to turn him loose.”

“Well,” Nason admitted, “they offered us twenty dollars apiece to let them go, but we didn’t see fit to accept.”

“I should hope not!” Cap said virtuously. “They’d ’a’ given you counterfeit money!”

“I doubt it,” Nason said. “They seemed good men: as good as you’d want to meet. We had to swim across a couple of rivers; they couldn’t swim for sour grapes, but they had no complaints. They didn’t even complain when we had to go two days without food.”

“Why would they?” Cap demanded. “Would I ’a’ complained if I’d been in their boots? Not by a damned sight! The recollection of what happened to that General Gordon would have kept me awful polite and helpful.”

“I sort of hated to leave ’em,” Nason said. “They were pleasant to talk to. Some of the things they claimed to know about America would almost make you die laughing. Whitcomb and I, we had considerable trouble keeping our faces straight.”