"Bring a lantern, there!" shouted the Riding Officer. "And call
Hymen! Where is Hymen!"
"I am here!"
The Major had picked himself up out of two feet of water, into which
he had been flung on all fours. He was dripping wet, but he still
clutched his naked blade, and advancing into the light of the
lantern's rays, brought it up to salute with a fine cold dignity.
"I am here," he repeated quietly.
"Well, then, I'm sorry for you, Hymen; but the game's up," said Mr.
Smellie.
The Major glanced at him, for a moment only.
"Will someone inform me who commands this troop?" he asked, looking
first to right, then to left, along the line of the Dragoons.
"At your service, sir," answered a young officer, pressing his horse
forward alongside Mr. Smellie's.
The Major reached out a hand for the lantern. Someone passed it to
him obediently; and holding it he scanned the officer up and down
amid the dead silence of the crowd.
"Your name, sir?"
"Arbuthnot, sir--Captain Arbuthnot, of the 5th Dragoons."
"Then allow me to ask, Captain Arbuthnot, by what right have you and
your troopers assaulted my men?"
"Excuse me," the Captain answered. "I am acting on trustworthy
information. The Riding Officer here, Mr. Smellie--"
But here Mr. Smellie himself interposed brusquely.
"You can stow this bluster, Hymen. I've cornered you, and you know
it. The flares in the offing yonder came from two preventive boats.
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