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Updated: May 29, 2025
There's a bit of fat in this, lads!" A minute later, I was hauled on to my feet. A seared face, with a dab-of-putty nose on it, leered delightedly into mine. "Got you, by G !" he said. I had been captured by Brocton's dragoons. Now we should come to points.
At the top of the slope, wrap-rascal turned round. It was Weir, the Government spy. He squealed to his companion, who looked back in turn. My heart leaped fiercely at the sight of his seamed leathery face and dab-of-putty nose. It was the sergeant of dragoons.
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