sun, was swart as any Arab's. A man, I thought, who could be
gentle-harsh or harsh-revengeful, as the mood should prompt; who could
make well-turned courtier compliments to a lady and damn a trooper in
the self-same breath.

This was that Colonel Banastre Tarleton who gave no quarter to
surrendered men; and when I looked into the sloe-black eyes I saw in
them for me a waiting gibbet.

"So!" he rapped out, when I was haled before him. "You're the spying
rebel captain, eh? Are you alive enough to hang?"

His lack of courtesy rasped so sorely that I must needs give place to
wrath and answer sharply that there was small doubt of it, since I could
stand and curse him.

He scowled at that and cursed me back again as heartily as any
fishwife. Then suddenly he changed his tune.

"They tell me you were in the service once and left it honorably. I am
loath to hang a man who has worn the colors. Would it please you best to
die a soldier's death, Captain Ireton?"

I said it would, most surely.

He said I should have the boon if I would tell him what an officer on
the Baron de Kalb's staff should know: the strength of the Continentals,
the general's designs and dispositions, and I know not what besides. I
think it was my laugh that made him stop short and damn me roundly in
the midst.