When his senses came back, the three men were bending over him.
"Where is the other one?" he asked feebly.
"Oh, Dick's all right." And indeed Dick was sitting up a few paces
off, and coughing violently.
"But look here, you've played us a pretty trick!" the voice went on.
Tristram did not know that his wig had been lost in the struggle, or
that the burnt cork which Captain Salt had applied was now running
across his face in a vague smear. He had forgotten all about his
disguise.
"I was thinking," he answered simply, "that you might give me the
start I held before this happened. Fifteen yards, gentlemen, is as
near as I can guess it. Don't you think that would be fair!"
"But why should we chase you at all?"
"Upon my word, sirs, _I_ don't know. I took it for granted that you
must have some motive."
"So we had; but it appears that you are not Captain Salt."
"That is certain. A man cannot well be his own father."
"But you are disguised to resemble him."
"Ah! I remember. It was a fancy of his to dress me thus, an hour
back. But stop a minute--I begin to perceive. You were after my
father?"
"Yes, to arrest him. The King suspects him of carrying treasonable
papers."
As the full treachery of his father's conduct began to dawn upon
Tristram, they heard the clatter of hoofs on the road at their back,
and turned.
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