Captain Butler, for such was the name by which the partisan seemed to be known, took the parchment extended by the prisoner, and examined it closely.
“Why, this is only a commission,” he growled. “What do I care for that? I want your dispatches, Captain Schuyler, since that seems to be your name.”
“I have none, on my word as an officer,” said Schuyler calmly.
“Then what were you doing on the road to Derryfield?” asked Butler, bending his shaggy brows on the other.
“On duty,” was the laconic reply.
“What kind of duty?”
“That is my own affair and my General’s.”
“Who is your General?”
“General Philip Schuyler.”
“So,” said the ranger leader, musingly. “Are you a relation of his?”
“His second cousin.”
“On his staff?”
“As an aide—yes.”
“What uniform is that you wear? I know none suc
