CHAPTER XVI
A PRISONER
THE captain was hatless, and a bloody handkerchief was wound about his head; his uniform was torn and black with mud. He saw Whitlock first, and gripped his hand warmly, his glance straying from the face of the little captain to the other occupants of the room.
"Gad, but it is good to see a blue uniform again," he exclaimed heartily. What was the row here, Fred some guerrilla work? Ah! by Jove!" his eyes brightening as he recognized me. "Raymond, I am glad to see you again," and he strode forward, his lips smiling, his hand held out. "Old Ned swore to me you were dead, but the sergeant said you got away at the first rush. Not even a scratch—hey—"
"Just a moment, please," and the interested lieutenant interrupted him by a hand on the shoulder. "I believe we have never met before, but I presume you are Captain Fox?"
The latter turned, a trifle indignant at the other's manner.
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