"Surrender," said the captain as calmly as a slight breathlessness from exertion would permit, "or you die."
There was no menace in the manner of this demand; that was all in the matter and in the means of enforcing it. There was, too, something not altogether reassuring in the cold gray eyes that glanced along the barrel of the weapon. For a moment the two men stood looking at each other in silence; then the civilian, with no appearance of fear with as great apparent unconcern as when complying with the less austere demand of the sentinel slowly pulled from his pocket the paper which had satisfied that humble functionary and held it out, saying:
"I reckon this 'ere parss from Mister Hartroy is"
"The pass is a forgery," the officer said, interrupting. "I am Captain Hartroyand you are Dramer Brune."
It would have required a sharp eye to observe the slight pallor of the civilian's face at these words, and the only other manifestation attesting their significance was a voluntary relaxation of the thumb and fingers holding the dishonored paper, which, falling to the road, unheeded, was rolled by a gentle
