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"No need to ask how he came in this state and by his wounds. A
damned rebel, and that's enough for me." He flung a command at his
dragoons. "Out with him, my lads."
Mr. Blood got between the day-bed and the troopers.
"In the name of humanity, sir!" said he, on a note of anger. "This
is England, not Tangiers. The gentleman is in sore case. He may
not be moved without peril to his life."
Captain Hobart was amused.
"Oh, I am to be tender of the lives of these rebels! Odds blood!
Do you think it's to benefit his health we're taking him? There's
gallows being planted along the road from Weston to Bridgewater,
and he'll serve for one of them as well as another. Colonel Kirke'll
learn these nonconforming oafs something they'll not forget in
generations."
"You're hanging men without trial? Faith, then, it's mistaken I am.
We're in Tangiers, after all, it seems, where your regiment belongs."
The Captain considered him with a kindling eye. He looked him over
from the soles of his riding-boots to the crown of his periwig.


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