The soldiers murmured, "M. de Soisson!" and presented arms.
Then they explained matters, and thrust Tristram forward, holding the
lantern uncomfortably near his face.
M. de Soisson began an interrogatory in good French. As the prisoner
shook his head, he harked back and repeated his questions in
extremely bad English. Tristram answered them truthfully, which had
the effect of raising disbelief in M. de Soisson's breast. After ten
minutes this disbelief grew to such an extent that the peppery
officer turned to the sergeant and ordered Tristram to be taken off
to the barn where the deserters were kept under guard.
This barn lay a mile to the rear, across half a dozen meadows, over
which Tristram was hurried at a quick trot, with the point of a
bayonet at his back to discountenance delay. On arriving at the
building he was held while the sergeant unlocked the door. Then he
was kicked into inner darkness. He stumbled over the legs of a man
who cursed him volubly, and dropped on to a heap of straw.
Within ten minutes he was asleep, utterly worn out both in body and
mind.
Three hours passed, and then the door of the barn was flung open and
another sergeant appeared with a squad of soldiers at his back.
He strode through the barn, kicking the sleepers, among whom was our
hero.
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