The last remark was for the king—to quiet him. On the road the man pulled his resolution together, and began the march with a steady gait, but there was no eagerness in it. By and by I said:
“What relation were these men to you—cousins?”
He turned as white as his layer of charcoal would let him, and stopped, trembling.
“Ah, my God, how know ye that?”
“I didn’t know it; it was a chance guess.”
“Poor lads, they are lost. And good lads they were, too.”
“Were you actually going yonder to tell on them?”
He didn’t quite know how to take that; but he said, hesitatingly:
“Ye-s.”
“Then I think you are a damned scoundrel!”
It made him as glad as if I had called him an angel.
“Say the good words again, brother! for surely ye mean that ye would not betray me an I failed of my duty.”
“Duty? There is no duty in the matter, except the duty to keep still and let those men get away. They’ve done a righteous deed.”
He looked pleased; pleased, and touched with apprehension at the same time. He looked up and down the road to see that no one was coming, and then said in a cautious voice: