"So you've come here again, Henry Bale," said the Corporal; "I told you
that it would be the worse for you, if you did."
"My name's Mugford," gasped the man, now struggling a little.
"And when did you get your discharge?" asked the Corporal; "and why are
you hanging about the woods instead of living with your mother like an
honest man? But when you're back at Plymouth they'll know you as Henry
Bale fast enough, I'll warrant."
The man trembled, and begged abjectly for mercy; but the Corporal only
pulled out a knife, without relaxing his hold on his throat, turned him
over on his face, and cut his waistband. "Now," he said, "the best
thing that you can do is to surrender and come quietly along with me.
Give me your hands." And pulling a piece of twine from his pocket he
tied the man's thumbs together behind his back. Then raising him to
his feet he shoved him over the rack in the hedge, and led him past
Mrs. Mugford's windows, where a rushlight was burning, into the road
and so to the stables at Bracefort. There he locked his prisoner into
a separate loose-box with a barred window, having first tied his wrists
before him, instead of his thumbs behind him; and then he sought out
pen and paper and wrote; a letter to Colonel Fitzdenys, which, though
it was not very long, took him much time to write, and ran as follows:--
"Honoured Col.
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