A hasty breakfast was eaten, and then the sergeant went up to the newly mounted guns on the top of the square tower, where Roy promised to join him as soon as he had been to visit the wounded man.

"Tell him I mean to come as soon as I can, my lad," said Ben, "but it won't do him any good for me to come now. Wounded man's best left alone till he gets over his touch of fever. But tell him I'm sorry he's down, and that I shall very much miss my best gunner. It'll please him, and it's quite true."

Roy nodded, and in due time went to the hospital-room, where he tapped lightly, and the door was opened by the old housekeeper, who looked rather pale; but Lady Royland, who was seated by the wounded man's bedside, rose and came to her son.

"Yes," she said; "go and speak to him; but don't stay many minutes, for he must not talk much. A few words from you, though, will do him good."

Roy glanced towards the bed, which was close to one of the windows looking out on the court-yard garden, and he could see that the man was watching him intently.

"Go to him. I'll leave you and come back when I think you have been here long enough."

The door closed behind Lady Royland and her old assistant as Roy made for the couch, expecting to see a painful sight of agony and terror; but, as he approached, the man's countenance expanded into a broad grin.

"Don't be hard on a poor fellow, captain," he said, just as Roy was ready with a prepared speech about being sorry to see the man in so grievous a condition.

"Hard upon you, Sam! What for?"

"Sneaking out o' all the fun like this here! 'Taren't my fault, you know. I didn't want to stop in bed; but my lady says I must, and that she'll report me to you if I don't obey orders. I say, let me get up, sir. It's just foolishness me lying here."

"Foolishness! What! with that bad wound?"

"Bad, sir? Why, you don't call that bad. If he'd cut my head off, I'd ha' said it was."

"How?" cried Roy, unable to repress a smile.

"How, sir? Why—oh! o' course not. Didn't think o' that; I s'pose I couldn't then. But I say, Master Roy, sir—I mean cap'n, I'm just ashamed o' myself letting her ladyship wait on the likes o' me!"

"Why should you be, Sam? Haven't you been risking your life to defend us?"

"Me? No, sir, not as I knows on," said the man, staring.

"Well, I do know; and now you are not to talk."

"Oh, sir! If I'm to be here I must talk."

"You must not, Sam. There, I came to see how you were."

"Quite well, thank ye kindly, sir."

"You are not. You have a bad wound."

"But I aren't, Master Roy. It's on'y a bit cut; and I want to have a stick and come up on the tower in case we have to work that gun."

"If you want to help to work that gun again, Sam, you will have to lie still and let your wound heal."

"Master Roy!—I mean oh, cap'n—it's worse than the wound to hear that."

"We can't help it. Tell me, are you in much pain?"

"Oh, it hurts a bit, sir; but if I was busy I should forget that, and—"

Crash!—Boom!

A strange breaking sound, and the rattling of the windows as a heavy report followed directly after, and Roy sprang from the chair he had taken by the wounded man's couch.

"On'y hark, sir—that was my gun atop o' the gate tower begun firing, and me not there."

"Be patient, Sam," cried Roy, excitedly. "It was not one of our guns, but the enemy's, and the fight has begun in earnest. Good-bye, and lie still."

He was half across the room as he said this, and the door opened to admit Lady Royland, looking deadly pale.

"Roy, my boy," she cried, in a low, pained voice, as she caught his hands; "they are firing."

"Yes, mother; and so will we," cried the lad, excitedly.

"You—you will not expose yourself rashly," she whispered; "you will take care?"

"I'm going to try not to do anything foolish, mother," he said; "but I must be with the men."

She clung to him wildly, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak; but no words came, and Roy bent forward, kissed her, and tried to withdraw his hands, but they were too tightly held.

Boom! came another report following closely upon a peculiar whizzing sound, apparently over the open window.

"Another gun from the enemy, and we're doing nothing," said Roy, impatiently. "Mother, don't stop me; they will think I'm afraid. I must be with the men."

Lady Royland drew a deep breath, and her face became fixed and firm once more, though the pallor seemed intensified.

"Yes," she said, quickly, as she threw her arms about her son for a brief embrace; "you must be with your men, Roy. Go, and remember my prayers are with you always. Good-bye!"

"Just for a while," he cried. "You shall soon have news of how we are going on."



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

GOING UNDER FIRE.

Roy ran out of the room, leaving the old housekeeper, who was waiting outside, to close the door, and dashed down the few stairs and out into the court-yard, where the greater part of their little force was drawn up on either side of the gate-way, looking very serious and troubled; but as soon as he appeared they burst into a cheer, to which Roy answered by waving his hand.

"The game has begun," he cried.

"Yes, sir," said one of the troopers, who with Farmer Raynes was in command of the men; "first shot struck the tower full, and splintered down some stone. Better mind how you cross the gate-way."

"Yes," said Roy, quickly; "I will." And he ran across to the door-way at the foot of the big spiral, reaching it just as a shot came whizzing overhead, and a heavy report followed.

"Third, and not one from us," muttered Roy, as he hurried up the stairway to reach the platform at the top, and found Ben Martlet and the troop-corporal from his father's regiment, each busy with one of the guns, arranging wedges under the breeches, and assisted by the men told off to work each piece, while two more now came to the turret door-way, bearing fresh charges ready when wanted.

Ben looked up and smiled grimly as Roy appeared, and the boy cried, excitedly—

"Three shots from them, and you doing nothing."

Rush!—Boom!

Roy ducked down his head, for the rushing noise seemed to be close over him; and as he raised it again, flushing with shame and glancing sharply round to see what impression his flinching had made on the men around, Ben said, quietly—

"Four, sir; and you see on'y one hit us; the earthwork has thrown all the others upward. That last one was nigh to a hundred foot overhead."

"A hundred feet! and I flinched," thought Roy. "But why don't you fire?" he cried, aloud.

"Thought I'd wait for you, sir, and that you'd like the first shot."

"Yes, of course," cried the boy, excitedly.

"And we haven't wasted time, sir; corp'ral and me's been pretty busy, getting what we thinks about the right depression of the muzzles, for you see we're a good height up here. I don't know that we shall be right, but we can soon get the range; and if you'll begin now, sir, I'd like you to try my gun first."

"Ready!" cried Roy, whose heart began to thump heavily.

"Like to take a squint along her, sir, first?" said Ben.

"No; I'll trust to your aim."

"Then, stand fast there!" cried Ben; and taking the port-fire from the man who held it, he presented it to the young castellan, who glanced at the earthwork, where he could see men busy, and a couple of squadrons of troopers drawn up some distance back on either side; and then, setting his teeth hard, he let the sparkling fuse fall softly on the touch-hole of the gun.

There was a flash, a great ball of smoke, the gun rushed backward, and the report seemed to stun Roy, whose ears rang, and a strange singing noise filled his head.

Ben said a few words, and leaned over the battlement, sheltering his eyes to watch the effect of the shot, as the smoke rose and began to spread. Then he turned and shouted something; but what it was Roy could not hear, neither could he catch a word that was uttered by the trooper-corporal, though the movement of his lips suggested that he was speaking.

"Can't hear you," shouted Roy, as loudly as he could; and the man smiled, and pointed to the port-fire and the second gun.

That was clear enough to understand; so Roy took a couple of steps towards the breech, and as the men stood drawn up in regular form on either side, he once more touched the priming.

Another flash, puff, and deafening roar, which he heard quite plainly; and oddly enough it seemed to have had the effect of restoring his ears to their customary state, for, in spite of the tremendous singing and cracking going on, he heard the order given to the men to stop the vents, sponge, and begin to reload.

"Just a shade more up," said Ben; "and yours wants a bit more than mine, corporal.—See where the shot hit, sir?"

"I? No," said Roy.

"Both on 'em just in front of their works, and covered 'em with earth and stones. They all bolted out. Look, they're coming back again, and they'll give us something directly."

"Yes," said the corporal, as the men went on loading; "and those shots have shown 'em what we can do. Look, sir."

"Why, they're drawing off those two troops of horse."

"Yes, sir," said the corporal; "and if Sir Granby Royland had been in command they'd never have been there."

"No," said Ben, with his lips pinched together; "we could have bowled over two or three of 'em with the guns, but I thought the captain would like to have a try at the earthwork first.—For they're not soldiers, Master Roy.—Are they, corporal?"

The trooper laughed.

"Just a mob of men scratched together, and put into jerkins and headpieces, and with swords stuck in their fisties. Why, there aren't many of 'em as can ride," continued Ben.

The thought occurred to Roy that his own garrison was composed of extremely raw material, but he said nothing, and Ben went grumbling on:

"I don't say but what they could be made into decent soldiers in time; but they don't seem to have anybody much over them."

Just then a couple of shots were fired by the enemy, one of which struck the tower with a tremendous crash, sending splinters of stone flying, and a tiny cloud of dust rose slowly. The other shot went whizzing overhead.

"I wouldn't get looking over the edge, Master Roy, sir," whispered Ben. "Some of those chips of stone might give you an ugly scratch. But that just shows what I say's right. They haven't got the right man there or he'd soon change things. You see they've brought up their guns with orders to batter down our drawbridge and smash the portcullis, thinking they'll make you surrender. Don't seem to come into their thick heads that if they did manage to smash the bridge, they'd be no nearer to us than before, because we should soon pile up a good breastwork, and pitch every man back into the moat who swam across. But, as I was going to say, they've got their orders to batter down the bridge, and they keep at it. We've been hit up here, but only by accident; they never fired straight at us. Now, if you were in command out there, sir, you'd do something different."

"I should fire straight up here, Ben, and try to silence these guns."

"Of course you would, sir; just as you're going to silence theirs."

"And the sooner the better, Ben. They're nearly ready again."

"Are they, sir? I can't see. My eyes are not so young as yours. Well, we're quite ready; and if you orders, we're going to give it 'em in earnest."

"Go on, then," said Roy, "and see if you can't stop their firing."

Ben smiled grimly, and bent down to regulate the aim he took, while the same was done with the other gun. The result was that the corporal's shot went right through the embrasure of the piece to the left, while Ben's went over.

As the smoke cleared away, a scene of confusion was visible; but the gun on the right was fired directly after, and the shot plunged into the bank of earth raised the previous night.

"Ah!" grumbled Ben; "you've got the best gun, my lad; there must be a twist in mine, for she throws high."

"Like to change?" said the corporal.

"No. I'm going to get used to mine and make her work better."

Shot after shot was fired from the gate tower, the men warming to their work, and the results were very varied; for, in spite of the care exercised and the rivalry between Ben and the corporal, the clumsily cast balls varied greatly in their courses, so that at the end of an hour's firing very little mischief was done on either side. The enemy had had their earthen parapet a good deal knocked about, and some men had been injured; but all the advantage they had obtained was the battering down of some scraps of stone, which lay about the front of the great gate-way.

"Soon clear that away with a broom," growled Ben; "but I'm a bit disappointed over these guns, captain. We ought from up here to have knocked theirs off the carriages by this time."

"We shall do it yet," said Roy; and during the next few shots he himself laid the guns, taking the most careful aim.

"As I said afore, your eyes are younger and better than mine, Master Roy, but you don't shoot any more true.—Hullo! what are they doing there?"

He looked earnestly at the battery, where the men seemed to be extra busy, and at a solid mass of troops marching on from some hundreds of yards behind, straight for the castle.

"They're never mad enough to come and deliver an assault; are they, corp'ral?" cried Ben, excitedly.

"Seems like it, sergeant."

Ben turned to Roy with an inquiring look, and he nodded.

"Do what you think best," he said.

What Ben thought best was to withdraw the great wedge which depressed the muzzle of his gun, the corporal doing the same; and then, after a careful aim-taking, both pieces roared out a salute to the coming infantry, which was marching forward in steady array.

The balls went skipping along after striking the ground a hundred yards or so beyond the enemy's battery, and, ricochetting, darted right for the solid moving mass of men. The effect was ludicrous, for in an instant they could be seen from the tower to be in a terrible state of confusion, breaking and running in all directions, and, as it were, melting away.

"First time they've ever faced cannon-ball," said Ben, with a smile. "I've seen better men than they after more training do the same. They won't do it next time, though."

As far as could be seen, few people were hurt; but the shots had their effect, for the men, as they were restored to something like order, were marched back behind a patch of woodland, and the duel between the two pairs of guns was recommenced with a couple of shots from the battery, both of which struck the tower high up.

"Aha!" cried Ben, with another of his grim smiles; "got tired, then."

"Does not seem like it, Ben," said Roy.

"Tired of plumping balls into our earthwork, and doing what they ought to have begun with.—Come, corporal, it's time we did better."

"Let's do it, then," said the man, sternly.

"Look here, Master Roy," said Ben, in a low tone; "they've just sent out two parties of horse to right and left, and it strikes me they're going to try something on the other side of us when they meet. Will you take a round of the ramparts, and see as all's right, and keep the lads on the lookout?"

"Let me fire these two shots first," said Roy.

He fired both guns, and there was a tremendous mass of earth sent flying; but that seemed to be the only mischief done; and then as Ben superintended the reloading, which began to be carried out now with a fair amount of speed, he said, in a low tone—

"Now, capt'n, will you take a look round? You ought to be everywhere at once now."

At that moment a shot just grazed one of the crenelles, and hurtled away close overhead, making the men wince, as it gave them a better idea of the enemy's powers than they had had before.

"Yes, that's why you want me to go, Ben," whispered Roy. "You think it is getting dangerous here. Thank you; I'll stay. I daresay the men are all right."

"Well, sir, I did think something of the kind; but it's real truth. You ought to be everywhere, and you must really give a look round and tell 'em to fire at any of the enemy who come too near, specially at the troops of horse; it'll teach 'em to keep their distance."

Another shot struck the tower, and the splinters of stone rattled down, making Roy hesitate to leave. But he felt that the old sergeant was right, and, descending to the ramparts, he visited the south-west tower, where the men in charge of the guns awaited orders to join in the fray. Then the north-west tower was reached, and here Roy encountered Master Pawson.

"I am glad you've come," he cried. "There's a strong body of horse gathering over at the foot of the hill to the north."

"Whereabouts?" said Roy, hurrying through. "Anywhere near the old ruins?"

"Ruins? ruins?" said the secretary, looking at him in a peculiar manner. "Ah, I see now: you mean those old stones on the top. No; they are on the level ground below. Hadn't we better fire?"

"As soon as they come within reach, send a ball at them. Let the gun be well elevated, so as to fire over their heads. We want to scare them off, and not to destroy."

As he spoke, Roy ascended with the secretary to the platform, and there, well within range, saw a strong squadron of horse approaching; while Roy's keen eyes detected a flash or two as of the sun from steel in amongst the trees at the foot of the hill.

"They have infantry there," he said. "And these horse must be coming to feel their way for them, and to see if we are prepared."

The men at the guns watched their young captain eagerly; and as soon as he gave orders for one of the guns to be used as he had directed, he was obeyed with an alacrity which showed how eager the people were to join in the fray commenced on the other side of the castle.

A shot soon went whizzing overhead, and caused a general movement among the horsemen; but they steadied again, and advanced. Upon a second shot being fired directly with the muzzle depressed, a little cloud of dust was seen to rise in front of the advancing squadron, which was suddenly thrown into confusion; and directly after the body of cavalry divided into two and began to retire, leaving an unfortunate horse struggling upon the ground; while after a close scrutiny Roy made out the fact that two men were riding upon one horse in the rear of the right-hand troop.

The men on the tower gave a loud cheer, trifling as their success had been, and were eager to fire again; but Roy was content to show the enemy that the defenders were well prepared let them advance where they would, for he knew that the slaying of a few men by a lucky shot would not have much influence on his success.

He stayed till the men had disappeared beyond the trees on the hill slope; and then, enjoining watchfulness, completed his visit to the other towers, descended to report how matters were progressing to his mother, who announced that her patient slept, and lastly hurried back to where the enemy were pounding away at the gate-way, and Ben and his men steadily replying.

"Hurt?" he cried excitedly, as he saw that one of the men had a rough bandage about his arm. "You had better go below at once."

"What! for that, sir?" said the man, staring; "it's only a scratch from a bit of stone."

The injury was very slight; but during Roy's absence the enemy had managed to send one shot so truly that it had struck the front corner of the embrasure of the corporal's gun, and splintered away a great piece of the stone, many fragments still lying about on the platform.

"Yes, sir; they're shooting better than we are, or their guns are more true. Our powder's good, old as it is; but it doesn't matter how carefully we aim, we can never tell to a foot or two where the shot will hit. They won't go where we want 'em."

"Well, theirs will not either, Ben," said Roy, "or they would have done more mischief to us than this."

"That's true, sir," grumbled the old soldier; "and after all said and done, I don't think much of big guns. If you could get 'em close up to the end of a ridgement, and the men would stand still, you could bowl a lot of 'em over like skittles; but there's a lot of waste going on with this sort of firing, and if it warn't for the show we make, and which keeps 'em off, we might as well sit down and smoke our pipes, and watch where the balls went that they send."

"But you must keep on, Ben. You may have a lucky shot yet."

"Oh, we aren't done so very badly since you went, sir! Soon as they'd done that bit o' damage to the top there, as'll cost Sir Granby a lot o' money to repair, the corporal sent 'em an answer which made 'em carry away four men to the rear."

"Killed?" said Roy, excitedly.

"Ah! that's more than we can say, sir. They didn't send us word. He's got the best gun, you see, sir; and I don't take so well to this sort of work. I want a good horse between my knees, and your father ahead of me to lead. Why, if he was here with his ridgement, he'd take us along like a big brush, and sweep this mob o' rebels off the country, as clean as one of the maids would do it with a broom. I say, sir; try your luck. The men like to see you have a shot or two. You boys are so lucky."

Roy tried and tried again as the day wore on, and the duel between tower and battery went on, but tried in vain. The men were relieved, and the fresh relay kept up a steady fire, shot for shot with the enemy; but nothing was done beyond knocking the earth up in all directions; while as fast as the face of the battery was injured, they could see spades and baskets at work, and the earth was replaced by more. A demonstration was made by the enemy on the sides of the castle, as if to try what was to be expected there; but a shot or two from the corner towers forced the horsemen to retire; and night was approaching fast when Ben and the corporal relieved the men who had been firing all the afternoon, and Roy was with them just as the old soldier took aim for his first shot.

"I've given her an extra charge of powder, sir," he said. "I'd ha' give her a double dose, on'y it would be a pity to burst her. Like to run your eye along before she's fired, sir?"

"No; you try this time, Ben."

As Roy spoke, there was a tremendous crash, followed by the report of the enemy's gun; and the rattling down of the splintered stone told how heavy the impact of the shot had been.

"More damage," growled Ben. "They're a-shooting ever so much better than us, corporal."

The next minute he applied the port-fire, and the gun sprang back, as a tremendous report followed.

"Made her kick quite savage, sir," said Ben, with a chuckle. "She says it's more powder than she likes."

He stepped to the embrasure as the smoke slowly rose, and gazed out at the enemy's battery.

"Come and look, Master Roy," he said, with a grim smile.—"I say, corporal, that's one to me."

The men raised a tremendous cheer, for plainly enough seen in the dim evening light, the interior of the battery was in confusion; and as the smoke quite cleared away, they saw that one of the guns was lying several feet back behind the shattered carriage, and at right angles to its former position.

"Give 'em yours now, my lad," growled Ben; and the corporal fired; but his shot went right over the battery and struck up the earth twenty yards behind.

"Depress the muzzle, man!" cried Roy.

"I did, sir, more than usual," said the corporal, rather sulkily.

"Yes, sir," said Ben; "he's a better gunner than me. Mine was on'y a bit o' luck, for I raised mine this time."

While the guns were being reloaded, Roy and his lieutenant watched the proceedings in the battery, waiting to withdraw when the enemy seemed to be about to fire.

But no further shot was sent roaring and whizzing against the tower, and, night falling, it soon became impossible to see what was going on.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

A STARTLING PORTENT.

That same night the proceedings at the earthwork were repeated under cover of a strong guard, the greater portion of the little garrison being engaged in repairing and strengthening the great earthen bank from the inner side; and this was carried out till dawn without the slightest interruption.

When the day broke, the reason for this was plain, for the enemy's battery had been carefully repaired; and just at sunrise a troop of horse was seen coming from the encampment of the main body of the force, half a mile away. As they came nearer, it was made out why they approached. For the troop was the escort of a couple of guns, each drawn by six horses; and an hour later a fresh embrasure was unmasked, and there were three guns ready to try and solve the problem unsolved on the previous day.

"Shall we hoist up another gun, Ben?" said Roy; but the old fellow shook his head.

"No, sir; I don't see any good in it. You know it's just a chance about hitting, and though they keep touching us, what good do they do? They may hammer away at the gate tower till they've half knocked it down, and it'll take 'em about a month to do it. And what better will they be then? They won't stand an inch nearer to getting in than they do to-day. Let 'em fire. You give 'em a shot now and then to tell 'em you're at home. Don't you waste more good ammunition than you can help."

Roy took his lieutenant's advice; and for a week the siege went on with the accompaniment of demonstrations of cavalry round the castle, and approaches by night, all of which kept the little garrison well on the alert, but did not advance the reduction of the stronghold in the least.

Sam Donny's wound progressed favourably; but the hospital-room was occupied as well by three more men, all suffering from cuts and contusions, caused by the flying chips of stones when a ball struck the edges of the crenelles.

The routine of the defenders was becoming monotonous, mounting guard, firing a little, and drilling a great deal; for Ben gave the men no rest in the way of practising them in the management of their weapons.

The result was that the condition of the garrison improved day by day, while Lady Royland grew more hopeful as she listened to her son's words.

"It can't last much longer, mother. Either they'll get tired of trying to drive us out, or some of the king's forces will come and relieve us."

Lady Royland shook her head the first time, but the second, Roy added—

"Look here, mother; the news is sure to reach London that we are being besieged. Then father will hear it; and do you suppose he will stand still? Either he will come himself, or see that help is sent."

Roy repeated his encouraging words one day at dinner, in the presence of the secretary, a full three weeks after the enemy had sat down before the castle, and Master Pawson laughed and rubbed his hands.

"They must give in," he said. "They'll never take the place."

"Never!" said Roy, triumphantly; "But I say, Master Pawson, I'm going to ask a favour of you."

"What is it?" said the secretary, eagerly.

"I want you to take a turn at the watch-keeping now and then."

"Keep watch?" said the secretary, staring.

"Yes, just now and then, so as to relieve a man and give the poor fellow a good sleep."

"Master Pawson will, I am sure," said Lady Royland, gravely. "He has said that he would do anything he could to help us in our time of need."

"Of course, Lady Royland, of course," he replied, hastily. "I only hesitated because I am so helpless—such a poor creature over matters like this."

"It doesn't want anything but to keep awake, and a sharp lookout. You ought to be able to do that, sir. You've had plenty of sleep lately, going to bed at nine, and sometimes at eight."

"Yes, I—I often go to bed very soon, Roy. My head seems to require a great deal of sleep. I suppose it's from studying so much. But I'll come and keep watch—after to-night. You will not want me to-night?"

"Why not to-night?"

"I don't feel prepared for it. My head is bad, and I fear that I should not be of much use. To-morrow night, if you want me, I will gladly come and take any duty you wish me to perform."

"Very well, Master Pawson," said Roy. "To-morrow night, then. I say, though," he added, merrily, "you had better come to the armoury with me."

Bang—bang! in rapid succession went the guns from the battery, followed a moment or two later by the third.

"That's right!" cried Roy. "Hammer away; only you might let us have our dinner in peace."

"Yes," said the secretary, with a forced laugh; "they might let her ladyship have her dinner in peace."

"Oh, mother!" cried Roy, "don't look so white and anxious. You ought to be used to the firing by now."

Lady Royland gave him a wistful look, and smiled faintly.

"They are only powdering down the stone; and I daresay the king will pay for it all being done up again."

"No doubt he will," said the secretary. "But you were saying something about the armoury. Shall I have to see to the men's weapons being served out?"

"No," said Roy, merrily. "I want you to select a helmet, breastplate, and back-piece to fit you, and a good sword."

"Oh, no, no!" said the secretary, quickly. "I am not a man of war."

"But you'll have to be, while you are on guard."

"Not like that. I might wear a good sharp sword; in fact, I did pick out one, and I have it in my room."

"Well done!" cried Roy, clapping his hands. "There, mother, who's ever going to think of surrendering when Master Pawson makes preparations like that.—I say, don't be too hard on the enemy, sir. Try and wound; don't cut off heads."

"Ah, you are making fun of me, Roy! But never mind. Don't you forget that by-and-by, when the fighting's over, I shall take my revenge."

"What—over lessons? Very well. I'm having a capital holiday from the old Latin."

The bent of the conversation turned, and the dinner ended in a very cheerful manner, for as time went on, Lady Royland could not help feeling hopeful. For want of the necessary war-material, the enemy seemed to be able to do no more in the way of a regular siege, and their efforts with the battery were becoming somewhat relaxed. No more men had been injured, and the sufferers in hospital were doing well. In fact, the general opinion in the castle was that before very long the enemy would, if they found they could not starve the defenders out, give up the attack, the castle being too hard a nut to crack.

That evening, while the firing was going on in a desultory way, Roy visited the hospital, meeting the secretary on the way.

"You've been to see the poor fellows?" said Roy, smiling.

"Yes—yes—they look white and ill. It is very sad, Roy. Such fine strong men, too. But what do you think of my going to read to them for an hour or two every day?"

"Not Latin?" said Roy, laughing.

"No, no, of course not. Something about the old wars."

"Capital!" cried Roy. "Do!"

"And I might take my viol over, and play to them a little."

"No, no; I say, don't do that," cried Roy.

"Eh? Why not? It would be so soothing."

"No; it wouldn't. Only make them miserable. They don't understand sarabands and corantos; and you can't play jigs."

"No," said the secretary, grandly, but with a peculiar look. "Perhaps they would not appreciate good music. And you are right; I do not understand jigs."

He nodded and crossed to the door-way leading up to his room, and Roy directly after encountered old Jenk.

"Hallo! where are you going?"

"Eh, eh? Master Roy? Oh, only up on to the platform to see the firing for a bit!"

"I say, don't you get shot."

"Me? Me? No, sir; they won't hit me. Look—look!" he cried, pointing upward. "Flag—ladyship's flag! Blows out bravely. See—we'll never surrender."

"Yes. Never surrender, Jenk. Too good soldiers for that."

"Ay, ay, ay!" cried the old man. "Too good soldiers for that. Brave boy! Your father's son. But you'll have my little gate-house built up again, Master Roy, when they've gone, eh? They've knocked it about a deal. But old soldiers don't mind scars."

"Oh, yes; we'll have it put right when we've made the enemy run."

"Yes, yes, make 'em run, Master Roy; and I'll tell your father what a brave soldier Ben Martlet and I have made you."

The old man chuckled and went in at the door-way to mount the spiral stairs, while Roy turned and looked up at the flag, well blown out by the evening breeze.

"Poor old fellow! Helped to make me a soldier, has he? Well, it pleases him to think so."

The lad ran his eye along the side of the court-yard, sadly trampled now, and fancied he saw a head quickly withdrawn at one of the narrow windows of the north-west tower; but he was not sure, and it did not impress him then as he went on to the hospital-room, where the wounded men received him eagerly, Sam Donny being the most demonstrative, and ending by begging that he might be ordered on duty again.

"Another week at least, first," said Roy. "Only too glad to have you all back."

Roy stayed till it was dark, and he was descending to the court-yard when a loud shouting below took his attention, and upon running out he found a knot of men eagerly talking and looking up at the gate tower.

"What is it? What's wrong?" said the boy, excitedly.

"The flag, sir," cried Farmer Raynes. "Did you order it to be pulled down?"

"I? No!" cried Roy, excitedly. "I said it was to be kept up night and day. Who has dared to do this?"



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

BY A TRAITOR'S HAND.

The last words were spoken as he hurried across to the door-way in the gate tower; and before he reached the platform at the top, he could hear Ben Martlet storming and shouting at the men, who were very silent; but from the noise of footsteps it was evident that they were running to and fro.

As Roy reached the top of the stairs, it was to find his exit on to the platform blocked by Ben and the corporal, the former being decked with the flag hanging over his shoulder like a mantle. They were evidently busy with the halyards at the little opening, down beside which the flag-pole butt was fixed in iron loops, and through which window the flag was hoisted and the halyards secured.

"What's the meaning of this?" cried Roy, breathlessly. "The enemy will think we have surrendered."

"Let 'em come, then, sir, and we'll show 'em we haven't," roared Ben, fiercely.

"But why was the flag hauled down?"

"Wasn't hauled down, sir. Come down with a run right on to the leads."

"What! Did the line break?"

"I wish it had broke, sir. You just look at that!" And he held out an end of the thin, strong hempen cord which ran through a pulley at the top of the pole, and to which the flag was always attached.

"Cut?" cried Roy.

"Yes, sir; cut. Some one has sawed through it with a sharp knife; and I want to know who it was."

"Some one up here on the platform?"

"No, sir; I'll answer for that," said the corporal.

"Some one then in the ammunition chamber?"

"Nay; I don't believe any one there would do it, sir," growled Ben, who was now busy splicing the line, which came swinging down by the window.

"How's that?" said Roy, eagerly.

"What—that rope, sir? One of the lads has swarmed up the flag-staff, and run it over the wheel again," cried Ben, who now re-attached the flag, well above the splice, and began to haul it up again, the folds gliding from his shoulder, and out of the window, to rise into sight from the platform, where the men greeted it with a hearty cheer.

"Ha!" ejaculated Ben, as the colours reached the top, and he fastened the line. "That don't look like surrendering, sir."

"No, Ben; but I want to know who dared to cut it. Who has been here?"

"No one but old Jenk, sir. He came and stopped some time, standing in the door-way, looking on and chattering to us a bit before he went down."

"Oh, but surely he wouldn't have done such a thing as that, Ben!"

"So I say, sir. If he did, it's quite time he was taken over to the church, and buried, for he must be out of his wits."

"Oh, impossible! He couldn't have done it. Are you sure it was cut?"

"Well, sir, you see the end."

"It must have been frayed by rubbing against the edge of the parapet."

"Didn't look like it sir; that's all that I can say."

"Has any one else been here?"

"Not as I know of, sir; but we've been too busy to see, keeping our faces to the enemy. I thought I heard some one run down."

"Well, it was an unfortunate accident, Ben; but you've soon repaired it," said Roy. And he stepped out on to the platform to look aloft at the flag, which was once more fluttering and flapping in the breeze; and then he stepped upon a stone to gaze over towards the enemy's battery to see if the lowering of the flag had had any effect there.

But all was quiet. They had evidently ceased firing for the evening, and the shades of night were descending so quickly, that the figures in the rear of the earthwork were beginning to look dim and indistinct. Away to the right, though, was a shadowy body which seemed to be moving along towards where the enemy's camp lay, behind the wooded patch of country; and Roy was not long in coming to the conclusion that it was a troop of horse, returning from the neighbourhood of the battery.

He took a long sweep round, gazing hard at the beautiful wooded landscape, and the soft calm of the hour, with the sweet moist odours of evening which were wafted to him by the breeze, had a depressing effect. He found himself thinking of what a sad business it all was, that the peaceful district should become the scene of war and bloodshed—little enough of the latter; but who could tell how soon a terrible assault might be made upon the place, and their guns would have to be directed so as to mow down the advancing enemy like the hay fell before the mower's scythe.

Away to the west a bright planet was seen blinking in the dark grey sky, but that evening it did not seem to Roy like a star of hope; and when, a few minutes later, there came the faintly heard, mournful cry of an owl, he turned away to descend to the ramparts and walk round so as to visit, according to his custom, each tower in turn, where he was respectfully questioned by the men as to the lowering of the flag, and whether it had any meaning.

Roy laughed it off; but the fact of this incident impressing the men so strongly had a bad effect upon him, and he found himself forced to make an effort to fight it back before he joined his mother for the quiet hour or so he always spent with her before going on duty or retiring to rest.

But he was not to go straight to her; for on descending to the sadly trampled garden, he found the secretary slowly walking up and down the least-injured patch of grass, with his head bent, shoulders rounded, and his hands behind him, clasped together as if they were manacled.

He started sharply as Roy came near, actually wincing, and looking deadly pale.

"I wasn't going to hit you, Master Pawson," said Roy, with a smile.

"No, of course not; but all this firing has made me nervous. I am afraid I am not at all brave, Roy, and my head is so bad to-night, it makes me worse. I started just as if you were some enemy, and it sent a shock right through me."

"Better now?" said Roy, mockingly.

"Oh, yes, better now; but I'm very glad I do not go on duty to-night. I think I shall go to bed very soon, and sleep it off."

"Best thing; but you'll come with me to have some supper?"

"No, not to-night. Please make my excuses to my lady. It's a sad thing to be so weak of health, Roy. Sadder still to see this lovely garden spoiled by the trampling of armed men."

"Yes, it's a great pity," replied Roy; "but we'll soon set it straight again as soon as the enemy's sent to the right-about; and who would not sacrifice a few flowers for the sake of king and country?"

"Ah, who, indeed!" cried the secretary, with a slight flush coming into his cheeks. "Going?"

"Yes; I must join my mother now."

"And—er—are you on duty to-night?"

"Not till twelve o'clock," said Roy, frankly. "Then I have to go my rounds, and again at four. I hope the enemy will not disturb us."

"How can they?" said the secretary. "They cannot deliver an assault without rafts and ladders, or with boats; and we should see their preparations long before they could attack us."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Roy, thoughtfully. "The only thing I dread is a surprise."

"Surprise!" cried the secretary, starting violently. "Don't say that."

"Sorry I did say it," replied Roy, smiling; "for it made you jump as if you had been shot."

"Yes, Roy; sieges do not agree with me. But whatever made you say that?"

"Only because I think it possible, in spite of all our precautions, that the enemy might find a way to get into the place; that's all."

"What a horrible idea!" faltered the secretary.

"Well, I suppose it is," said Roy; "but don't let it keep you awake to-night, Master Pawson. Perhaps it is impossible."

"Impossible? Of course it is. There, good-night. I must go and lie down."

"And I am late in going to my mother," said Roy.

"Then good—good-night. Make your men keep the strictest of watches for all our sakes, my brave young castellan!"

"I will," said Roy; and each went his way.

"Now, if I didn't begin to know that Master Pawson really liked me, I should have thought he was sneering," said the lad to himself. "I'm always fancying people look down upon me because I'm such a mere boy. But he's trusty enough, as he has shown us. I wish he hadn't called me 'my brave young castellan,' though. It sounds so sugary and oily. Surprise—surprise?" he thought. "No, they couldn't surprise us, unless they got in by a secret passage; and if there were one, they would never find it out. If we couldn't, it isn't likely that strangers would. I wish Ben and I had had another big search. All this put it out of our heads. I'll ask mother if she thinks it possible there is one. No, I will not," he said to himself, as he reached the door. "It would frighten her into fits. She'd be too nervous to go to sleep, and want me to let all the men search the dungeons, and make them nervous, too. Bah! It's only an old woman's tale. I don't believe in such things."

He opened the door, to be welcomed by Lady Royland, who sprang from her chair, and proudly monopolised the task of taking off her son's helmet, cuirass, and back-piece, after unbuckling his sword.

"My duty, Roy," she said. "The one I was proud to perform for your father. Ah, my boy, if he were only here that I might assist him now! But no news, Roy; no news. It is cruel work."

"No news is good news, mother," cried Roy, cheerily. "Come and feed me, for I'm terribly hungry again."

An attractive meal was waiting; and to have seen mother and son soon after at the table, no one would have imagined that they were in a beleaguered castle with a strong body of the enemy close at hand.

Roy sat till the clock struck nine, and then rose.

"Then you will get no proper sleep to-night, my boy?" said Lady Royland, as she helped her son to resume his arms.

"Oh, yes; I shall lie down as I am, and jump up at twelve to take the round. I shall be back in my room in a quarter of an hour if the enemy is quiet, and sleep again till four, when I go my round again. I say, isn't it wonderful how one wakes at the right time when one has had a little practice."

"Roy, my boy, it is wearing you out. Let me go and see if the men are doing their duty to-night."

"What nonsense, mother!" cried the lad, merrily. "Just as if this was going to wear me out. To-morrow night old Ben will make the round, and I shall be snoring in my bed. There, good-night."

"Good-night, my darling," cried Lady Royland, pressing him to her breast.

"I say, what a hard-hearted creature I must feel with this on," said Roy, laughing merrily.

"I never notice the cuirass," said Lady Royland, embracing her son again. "I only feel my boy's warm, true heart beating against mine."

She followed him to the door, and he turned and kissed her again, and then hurried away, depressing his sword-hilt to keep the steel end of the scabbard from clinking on the pavement.

"Why did I do that?" said Roy to himself. "It was not as if—as if—Oh, what nonsense! It's the weather makes me feel low; and she feels low too. I was obliged to try and cheer her up."

He mounted to the battlements, whence he entered the room over the guard-chamber where, according to custom now, Ben was waiting with his lighted lantern, and wearing his long cloak, one side of which he threw over the light when he took it up.

"All well, Ben?"

"All's well, sir. Enemy as still as mice. I'm beginning to think that one of these mornings we shall get up and find they've gone without saying good-bye."

"Hope you're right, Ben. Ready?"

"Ready, sir."

"Then march."

They ascended to the top of the gate tower, where they were challenged, and then descended to the rampart to be challenged by the sentinel posted half-way between the towers, and again by the sentry on each tower in turn. It was everywhere the same. The men were well upon the lookout, and they had all the same report to give, that everything was still and nothing had been seen.

"You'll have Master Pawson on duty to-morrow night, so as to relieve one man, Ben," said Roy, as he completed his round.

"Won't relieve no man, sir," said Ben, sourly. "I shall want one to watch that chap to see that he don't do nothing foolish."

"Ah, you're prejudiced. But I say, Ben, suppose we were surprised, how long would it take us to man the walls?"

"Couldn't surprise us, sir," growled the old soldier. "First alarm, the men would be out of the rooms and up atop of the leads at the guns; and all the rest would make for the ramparts, ready to run to any spot that was attacked. We're all right, sir, 'cept one thing."

"What's that?" cried Roy, anxiously.

"Old Jenk is worrying me, sir. He's been wandering about the ramparts to-night in a curious, crazy way, speaking to nobody, and acting silly-like. I'm pretty sure it was him as cut that line and let down the flag."

"I'll talk to him to-morrow. Good-night till twelve, Ben. I'm tired, and shall be glad of my rest."

"Good-night till twelve, captain," said the old soldier; and Roy went to his room, took off helmet and sword-belt, and threw himself upon a couch, to forget all his low spirits and troubles in less than a minute, falling at once into a deep sleep, from which he started at the first chime of the tower clock.

The little lamp was burning dimly now on the mantelpiece, but it gave him light enough to buckle on his sword; and as he did so, the chiming and striking of the midnight hour went on in the midst of what seemed an unnatural silence, which impressed him. The next moment his helmet was on, and he stepped quickly out into the corridor, to find it full of armed men, four of whom dashed at him as his hand flew to his side, and he drew his sword.

It was a vain effort; his arms were roughly grasped, and the cry he tried to raise was smothered by a hand pressed upon his mouth; while, by the light of a lantern raised on high, he saw the figure of the secretary, who stepped forward and took the sword wrenched from his hand.

"Thanks, my brave young castellan," he said, mockingly. "We will take off your steel toys and gewgaws by-and-by. One word, though," he said, in a fierce whisper: "make the slightest sound, and you will be thrown into the moat. Be silent, and we will recollect that you are only a boy, and treat you as one."

For answer, Roy threw all his strength into one desperate effort, wrenched his head round so that it was clear of the hand pressed upon it, and shrieked out the one word—

"Judas!"

The word seemed to cut into the wretched traitor's brain; and, raising the boy's sword, he struck at him; but the blade glanced from the perfectly tempered helmet, and the next moment one who seemed to be an officer interposed.

"Prisoners are not treated like that, sir," he said, sternly. "Which way now?"

"This," said the secretary; and he led the way along the corridor, towards the door opening upon the court-yard.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A DARK NIGHT'S DEEDS.

At that moment, when Roy would have surrendered his life to have rung out an alarm, the signal of danger, treachery, and hopeless disaster rang out in the form of a shot from the battlements overhead, and this was followed by another and another. But as the prisoner was hurried into the open air, armed men seemed to be gliding out of the darkness on all sides, their source, as far as he could make out in those agitated moments, being the bases of the towers. Then, as the trumpet rang out, fighting began all around the castle at once, not from the outside, but from within. Men had evidently crept silently up to the four towers, and gathered there from the corridors to which they had been admitted; and at the sound of the trumpet, a simultaneous attack was made, which, coming from the unguarded rear, and in tremendous, constantly increasing force, could not fail of being successful.

Roy stood there in the midst of his mother's once pleasant garden, with the stars glinting over his head, and guarded by half-a-dozen troopers, listening to the clash of steel, and the firing going on all round where the little garrison made desperate efforts to maintain themselves. But they could not even grow stronger by joining, for the occupants of each tower were isolated and driven back as they tried to communicate with their officers, who, at the first alarm, tried to lead the men in the guard-room to the gathering point selected in case of emergency. Ben had just lit his lantern, expecting the coming of Roy at twelve, when the first shot came; and, shouting an alarm, he drew his sword to dash out, but only to be hurled back, the door-way of the guard-room being blocked by men; while, when the occupants of the chambers beneath the platforms of each tower tried to descend, they, too, in spite of desperate efforts, were driven upward by the constantly arriving enemies, who forced them on to the leads by the now useless guns.

Here, in each case, a desperate encounter went on, which Roy, with his blood running cold, was able to mentally picture, as he stood there listening to the wild shouts of the attacking party, the defiant cries of the garrison—the mere handfuls of men who tried to hold their own.

There was no more firing: all was being done with the keen-edged naked blade for a few minutes; and this was followed by a wild despairing cry from the gate tower, and directly after there was a dull, sickening crash which told that a man had been hurled from the parapet into the court-yard, where he lay never to move again.

The shock of this was succeeded by others nearly as terrible, as the struggle went on at the tops of the different towers; and cry after cry arose, followed by heavy splash after splash, which, Roy interpreted rightly, meant that the victors were driving the defenders over the battlements into the moat, to sink or swim for life as they could.

A mad feeling of rage and despair seized upon the boy as he heard all this, and he struggled desperately with his captors in his endeavours to escape, and try to aid the poor fellows fighting to the death in their vain efforts to defend the place.

Vain, too, were his efforts; for a couple of men held him while others wrenched his arms behind his back, and tearing off his gay scarf, bound his elbows so tightly together that he could not stir, but had to listen helplessly to the yells and despairing cries that arose towards the silent vault of heaven.

It seemed to Roy like an hour of horror, during which he was listening to what seemed to be the massacre of the men, every one of whom he looked upon as a friend. But it was only a matter of a few minutes at the most, before a shout rang out from the top of the gate tower, to be answered with a burst of wild "hurrahs" from the four corners, and the ramparts as well; for the clashing of swords, the yells of rage, and the sounds of fierce and desperate struggles going on had ceased.

Roy's despair was at its height; he knew that the castle was taken, and its defenders killed, hurled into the moat, or captive.

But the boy's sinking heart gave one leap, for he knew that the flickering fire of defence blazed up in one spot, and that was in the guard-room, where he calculated that there must be twelve or fourteen men, with Ben Martlet, Farmer Raynes, and the corporal.

He was nearly right to a man. There were, including their officers, twelve men penned up in the big stone chamber, where they had plenty of arms and ammunition. The others had their quarters in the five chambers in the towers, and were stationed as sentinels. All these had been accounted for, save the wounded men in hospital.

And as Roy listened to the hurrying tramp of feet, there was gathering silence on the ramparts, while around him, in the court-yard, hundreds of men were united and drawn up in line.

Then, in the darkness beneath the gate-way, Roy heard a commanding voice call upon the men in the guard-room to surrender.

"What?" came out clearly in a harsh, snarling voice, which Roy hardly knew as Ben's. "Do what?"

"Surrender, my man! The place is taken."

"Yes, by cowardly treachery, Ben," yelled Roy, desperately. "Don't give in. Fight to the last."

A man came hurrying up, and the secretary, fierce with passion, stood before him.

"If this boy dares to speak another word, ram a gag in his mouth.—No, not yet.—Here, bring him up to the gate."

Roy was half pushed and dragged to the great archway, and, as he reached it, the clock chimed the quarter after midnight.

"Now, general," cried Pawson, "we'll have them out. It's not worth while to waste good men's lives to tear a set of mad rats out of their hole."

"Well, get them out," said the same commanding voice, and in the officer a short distance from him, Roy recognised the one he had met with the flag of truce.

"Now, then, if you value your life," snarled Pawson in the boy's ear, "order those fools to come out before we blow them to pieces with a keg of powder. Do you hear? Come forward and speak!"

Roy felt a fierce desire to spit in the traitor's face, but he mastered himself and stepped forward.

"Ah, you've come to your senses, then," said Pawson. "Lucky for you, my popinjay. Now, then, tell them to surrender."

"Why?" said Roy, spitefully. "They don't know what it means."

"Speak!" cried Pawson; and he pricked the lad with the point of his sword.

Roy in those terrible moments had to fight hard to be dignified, as he felt he ought to be, before the enemy; but the desire was strong upon him, when he felt a slight prick in the side from the keen point of the sword, to turn round and kick his aggressor with all his might.

Then he spoke.

"Sergeant Martlet, corporal, Farmer Raynes, all of you, I'm a prisoner, and can't help myself. There are two or three hundred men here. Can you hear me?"

"Ay, ay, sir; go on," cried Ben.

"They bid me tell you to surrender. What do you say?"

"Let 'em come and make us. God save her ladyship and the king!"

"Hurrah!" came rolling back from nearly a dozen lusty throats, and was followed by a shout from Ben.

"Get back, Master Roy; we're going to fire."

"Then fire," cried Roy. "Never mind me now."

Another cheer followed this; and there was a rattling noise which Roy interpreted, for he knew that the men in the guard-room had seized the pikes from the rack, and that a bristling hedge of steel was being formed in the door-way.

Just then the officer in command stepped forward.

"Silence there!" he cried, in a loud clear voice. "Listen to me, my men. The castle is taken, and I have four hundred men here. You are the only defenders left.—Sergeant Martlet, I suppose you are an old soldier, and if so, you know this boy's words are madness. Enough men have perished, and I should be sorry to add your party to those who have made so brave a defence. Come, you have all done your duty, and your case is hopeless; surrender, and you shall suffer no harm."

"When my captain tells me—not before."

"Well spoken, and like a brave man," said the officer; and he turned to Roy.

"Now, captain," he said, and there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice, "you don't want those stout fellows shot down, or smothered like rats in their holes. Tell them to give up their arms and come out."

"To a set of cowards who attacked us as you did with the help of that treacherous dog!" cried Roy, passionately. "No!"

"Hurrah!" was shouted from the guard-room door and Farmer Raynes roared out:

"Well said, Master Roy; we'll beat 'em yet."

"Take that boy away," cried the officer; and Roy was dragged to one side, where he heard the speaker again bid the party surrender; but only received a shout of defiance in reply.

A few short, sharp orders followed; and Roy quivered with passion as he saw from the brightening sparks that a party of men who tramped forward were blowing the matches of their firelocks.

An order followed, and a ragged volley was fired in at the door, which was answered by a cheer, and directly after by half-a-dozen shots and some confusion among the attacking party, for two men staggered back and fell groaning upon the stones.

The officer stamped his foot.

"Pikes and swords," he cried; and in obedience to his orders a little column of a score of men dashed forward and tried to enter, thrusting in their pikes; and as many as could get to the door striving desperately, but only to be beaten back, and their discomfiture increased by a few more shots.

The attack was resumed with fresh men again and again, but the defenders fought desperately, and in every case the attacking party were driven back with several men badly wounded.

"Block the place up and starve them out," said Pawson.

"No," said the officer sternly. "The work must be done at once. Powder," he cried to a couple of men near him, and a party marched off.

After a short delay, during which Roy looked vainly round for the secretary, the latter appeared again with the men, one of whom bore a keg. To this a piece of fuse was attached ready for lighting, and the officer walked to Roy's side.

"Look here, youngster," he said. "I shall stand at nothing to complete the reduction of this nest. You see that keg of powder. If these men do not surrender at once, I shall treat them as desperate vermin and blast them out or bury them, with perhaps half the tower upon their heads. It rests with you whether I shall kill a dozen or so of brave men or spare them. Which is it to be?"

Roy was silent.

"Come," said the officer, "I want to be merciful now. You are Sir Granby Royland's son. He is a brave soldier, though mistaken in defending a tyrant. I tell you that when a cause is hopeless he would act as I ask you to do. Now you have well proved your courage, and you spoke before in the rage of defeat. Speak now as a brave officer who would not willingly sacrifice his men. What do you say?"

Roy said nothing, for his heart swelled with emotion, and the words would not come. The officer came closer, so that none other could hear.

"In God's name, boy," he whispered, "don't force me to do this brutal act; I ask you as the son of a brave soldier. Tell them to surrender now."

The way in which these words came to Roy's ear achieved that which no threats or insult would have done. It was an enemy speaking, but something told him that he was a brave soldier too; and without another word Roy stepped up to the door-way, from whence a mistaken shot might have laid him low.

The officer grasped this, and shouted loudly—

"Within there! Don't fire!"

It was only just in time, for half-a-dozen muskets were presented.

The next moment Roy's voice rang out clearly:

"Sergeant Martlet, corporal, Raynes, all of you, we have done our duty, and it is hopeless to fight longer. You are the only men left. To resist is to give all your lives for nothing. March out and throw down your arms."

A groan rose from within, and a figure came to the door-way.

"Don't say that, Master Roy," cried Ben, hoarsely. "Couldn't we do it if we held out?"

"No; they will blow the place up. The powder is waiting. I am your captain; I order you to surrender now."

"Master Roy! Master Roy!" cried the old soldier in a piteous voice; "it was no doing of mine. I was on the alert. Don't think it was any fault of mine."

"Fault of yours, Ben?" cried Roy. "No, nor mine neither."

"But how did they get in, sir?"

"By the secret passage that we could not find."

"But how? Where can it be?"

"I've been thinking, Ben. I don't know for certain; but it must open into Master Pawson's room."

"And he let 'em through?"

"Yes; filling the corridors silently with troops while I slept."

"The traitor! Then that was the signal, boy. Oh, my lad, my lad, why didn't I kill him when I thought it must be he? What about repairing the stone gallows now?"

"I—don't understand you."

"The lowering of the flag, sir—the lowering of the flag."

"Yes," said the officer, who had advanced to them unobserved in the gloom of the archway; "that was the signal, sergeant. You were betrayed from within. Step out now with your men, like the brave fellow you are. Give me your hand; and let me tell you that I don't believe I could have taken the place without."

"Am I to surrender, Master Roy?" said the old fellow, bitterly.

"Yes, Ben; it is all over now."

The hilt of a sword was thrust out as the old soldier held it to the officer by the blade.

"Shake hands with that, sir," he said, bitterly. "I'm a king's man still.—Forward!"

This to his brave companions; and as they marched slowly out and gave up their arms, a tremendous roar arose from all assembled in the court-yard.

It was no derisive cry, no jeer at the conquered, but a full-throated cheer of admiration for the brave little party, blood-stained, bandaged roughly, three of them hardly able to keep their feet; and Roy's heart once more swelled within him in spite of his despair, for he noticed in the gloom that the officer in command took off his helmet as the men marched by into the court; and then, as he replaced it, he said quietly to Roy—

"All this is not necessary, sir.—Quick, one of you; untie this gentleman's hands."

For the first time that night, Roy felt giddy and sick with pain. But he roused himself directly, for Master Pawson came up, and spoke quickly in a low voice to the officer, who replied coldly, and with a ring of contempt in all as he said, loudly—

"Of course, sir," he said, "in some things, by the terms of your bargain, you are master here of the place and the estate. All that the Parliament desires is the destruction of the castle as a stronghold; but as to the garrison, that is another thing. We shall hold the place for a time, and while I await further orders the prisoners will be my charge."

He turned to give some orders, and the secretary turned to Roy.

"Yes," he said, "I am master here now of everything; so go and take off all that tawdry rubbish. You will never make a soldier, and I shall tame down all this bullying haughtiness. You never thought my day would come when I was forced to put up with the insults and jeers of a miserable cub of a boy. But every man has his day. Your party has gone down at last, and mine is in power. Ah, you may pretend not to hear me, and that you treat everything I say with contempt! Judas, am I, because I saved bloodshed by a diplomatic stroke? Well, we shall see. You'll come cringing to me soon."

"When my father returns, and, if you have not already been hung for a traitor, he punishes you as you deserve. Shall I cringe to you, then?"

"Your father," said Pawson, mockingly. "Your proud swashbuckling father is dead,—killed as he deserved, with scores of his fighting bullies. You may look to me as your father now. Your mother and I thought it better to end this sham defence at once. Hah! does that sting you? I thought I should manage it at last. Yes, she thought with me. A fine, handsome woman still, Roy, and a clever one, though she did pet and spoil her idiotic cub of a son. But there, I forgive her, and we understand each other fully now. Ha, ha! I thought that would touch you home!"

Roy nearly staggered as he heard these words, and the next moment he would have flung himself at the traitor's throat; but just then a friendly hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the officer said—

"I have given orders for your wounded men to be seen by our doctor. Meanwhile, you had better come with me."

He passed his arm through Roy's, and turned his back on Pawson, marching the lad towards the private apartments of the castle; while the traitor stood gazing after them, stung as deeply as his victim now in turn.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

"AND ALL THROUGH MY NEGLECT."

Seeing how completely prostrated his companion seemed to be, the officer turned to him as they reached the entrance to the private apartments and said, quietly—

"Perhaps you will show me a room where I and my officers can have some refreshment. We are starving. You can tell your servants that they have nothing to fear. I will see that they are not insulted; and then perhaps you would prefer to be alone."

"Thank you," faltered Roy, speaking in a strange, dazed way, as if he were in a dream.

"Come, be a man, sir," said the officer, rather sternly. "It is the fortune of war. A young soldier must not lose heart because he finds he is a prisoner. There, meet me at breakfast-time, and you and I will have a chat together. But listen first before you go: do not attempt any foolish, reckless pranks in the way of trying to escape. I tell you honestly, the castle will be so guarded and watched that it would be madness.—By the way, where are Lady Royland's apartments?"

Roy pointed to a door.

"Tell her when you see her that there is nothing to fear. But Master Pawson told me that he would place guards over her."

Roy drew a deep breath but said nothing, merely contented himself with pointing out the dining-room and library to his conqueror. Then he stopped at his own door.

"Your room? Very well; take my advice, and have a few hours' sleep," said the officer, opening the door, entering, and looking round by the light of the dim lamp. "Where does that big window open upon?"

"The garden,—the court-yard."

"And that narrow slit?"

"Upon the moat."

"Hah! Good-night to you."

He strode out, and Roy stood where he had been left, with his head throbbing as if it would burst from the terrible thoughts that invaded it.

Directly after he heard the tramp of heavy feet, a few words delivered in an imperious tone, and there was the heavy rap, rap of a couple of musket butts upon the oaken floor, telling him that guards had been placed at his door. His despair now knew no bounds, for he had determined to go straight to his mother's chamber, and ask her if Master Pawson's words were true. Now all communication was cut off, for he was a prisoner.

But his agony had reached its greatest height, and in a short time he grew calmer; for light came into his darkened brain, and he told himself he was glad that he had not been able to go and insult his mother by asking such a question.

"It is horrible!" he said to himself; "and I must have been mad to think such a thing possible. Liar! traitor! wretch! How could I think there was the faintest truth in anything he said!"

Utterly exhausted, he took off his armour and laid it and his sword-belt and empty scabbard aside.

"Done with now," he said, bitterly; and he sank upon the couch to try and think whether he was to blame for not searching more for the passage leading out beyond the moat.

"But I did try, and try hard," he muttered. "No; I could not foresee that the man chosen by my father would betray us. It was my duty to trust him. It was not my fault."

Through the remainder of that night he sat there thinking. Now listening to the tramp of the sentries at his door and overhead upon the ramparts, starting from time to time as he heard them challenge, and the word passed on, till it died away; now thinking bitterly of the ease with which they had been beaten, and of the men who must have fallen in their defence. Then, from utter exhaustion, his eyes would close, and consciousness leave him for a few minutes as he sank back.

But he never thoroughly went to sleep, the act of sinking back making him start into wakefulness, bitter and angry with himself for these lapses, and in every case springing up to pace the room.

"Poor mother! What she must have suffered through it all, and I scarcely gave her a thought. That wretch must have locked her in her room or she would certainly have been seeing to the wounded."

The clock chimed and struck, and chimed and struck again, with Roy counting the long lingering hours as they went on, for he was longing for the day to appear, hopeless as the dawn would be. But he wanted to see the general, to beg that he might go to Lady Royland; and the time when he would meet him seemed as if it would never come.

But at last the faint light began to dawn through the window, and, hot and feverish, he threw it open, to look out across the court and over the eastern ramparts at the coming signs of day, which grew brighter and clearer till the sentinels upon the terrace-like place, and the crenellations, stood out of a purply black plainly marked against the sky.

There were at least twenty men marching to and fro where at the most he had had two; and he groaned in spirit for a time as he went over again the occurrences of the past night. But far on high the sky began to be dappled with orange and golden clouds, which increased in brightness till the whole east was one glory of light, bringing with it hope; while the soft cool breeze he drank in gave him fresh courage and the strength to act the part he had to play,—that of one too proud to be cast down, so that his men should speak of him ever after as his father's son.

"Better than being in one of the dungeons," he thought, as he indulged in a good bathe, and dressed himself simply; after which he carefully hung up his armour, with the helmet above, and longed for his sword that it might occupy its old place.

"Better be lying rusting in the moat than resting in such hands as his," he muttered.

After spending some time at the window gazing across the court at the windows of the long chamber used for the hospital, and at the opening to the stabling down below, he fell to wondering as to how the poor fellows who were wounded had passed the night; and this brought a shudder, and he ran across to the little slit in the thickness of the wall to open the tiny casement, and look down at the moat, peering to right and left with starting eyes in expectant dread of seeing some ghastly sign of the horrible struggle that had taken place upon the tower platforms. But the lilies floated peacefully enough, and displayed their great white cups, and the fish played about beneath the leaves, making rings in the smooth patches where they rose—rings which spread and spread till they slightly swayed the reeds and rushes at the edge.

But he saw no dead white face gazing up at the sunlit heavens, and, search the waters as he would, there was not a sign to send a shudder through his frame.

All at once there was the tramp of feet overhead, and he went back to the other window, where he stood and looked across, and on the eastern rampart saw the guard relieved, the sun burnishing the men's steel caps; and soon after, as he watched, wondering what the day would bring forth, he heard the sentries at his door relieved in turn.

This ended, the echoes of the place were awakened by the blast of a trumpet, and the boy stood looking in wonder at the strength of the force drawn up in the court, and saw fully half of them march towards the great gate-way. Then he heard the drawbridge lowered, and the heavy, hollow tramp of the men as they passed across. Soon after, the neighing of horses reached his ears, and then came the beating of hoofs on the bridge, raising echoes from the walls at the other end, as a troop rode in and were drawn up on either side—sturdy-looking fellows, who sat their horses well, as Roy was fain to grant in spite of Ben Martlet's disparaging remarks.

He was still watching the troopers and their horses, when he heard a movement outside his door as if the sentries had presented arms; and directly after the general strode into the room, with his stern, thoughtful countenance lighting up as he encountered Roy's frank, bold eyes.

"Good-morning," he said, holding out his hand.

Roy flushed, but made no movement to take it.

"As one gentleman to another, Roy Royland," he said, smiling. "We can be enemies again when we have fighting to do. Come, we can be friends now."

Roy felt drawn towards him, and he slowly raised his hand, which was firmly gripped and held for a few moments.

"Ah, that's better!—Well, prisoner, how have you slept?"

"I? Not at all," said Roy, bitterly.

"That is a pity, too," said the general. "You ought to have slept. You had no guilty conscience to keep you awake. You only had the knowledge of duty done."

"And what about the poor fellows who fell fighting for us? Would not that keep me awake?"

"Ah, yes!" said the general, laying his hand on Roy's shoulder. "That is right. Well, as far as I have ascertained, not a man failed to cross the moat after his plunge. There are some ugly wounds, no doubt, but the doctor tells me that my men have suffered worse than yours, and he does not anticipate that any of your brave fellows will even have to stay in bed."

"That is good news," said Roy in spite of himself, for he meant to be very stern and distant.

"Better than was given me, my boy. There, come along; breakfast is waiting."

Roy shrank back.

"I would rather have some bread and water here," he said.

"Indeed! But I'm not going to feed my prisoner upon bread and water. I find you have plenty here, and that plenty you shall share. Ah! I see you do not want to meet our friend Pawson."

Roy started violently, and changed colour.

"He will not be with us, sir. Master Pawson prefers to stay in his own chamber, and I am quite willing."

"My mother?" asked Roy, in agony.

"Keeps to her room, boy. Her women are with her, and she knows that you are safe."

"She knows that?" cried Roy.

"Well, yes. I am what you would call a brutal rebel and traitor to my king; but I have a wife who knows what anxiety is about her husband and her son during this cruel war, and I took the liberty of asking an interview last night, before going to rest, and telling Lady Royland how you had behaved."

"Thank you, General—General—"

"Hepburn, my lad," and he caught the hand the boy held out. "And let me tell you that you have a mother of whom any boy should be proud—your father a wife such as few men own. She passed the whole night tending the wounded and winning our doctor's esteem. But come; I am hungry, and so must you be too."

Roy followed him without a word, feeling that, prisoner though he was, the salutes of the sentinels they passed were full of respect; and when he reached the dining-room, in which about twenty officers were gathered waiting their general's presence to begin, they rose like one man, and pressed forward to shake him by the hand, making the boy flush with mingled shame and pride, for had he taken the castle instead of losing it, his reception could not have been more warm.

"Come," said the general, after their hasty meal was at an end, "you are my prisoner, but I will not ask you to make promises not to escape. You can go about the castle; the men will let you pass anywhere within the portcullis. You will like to visit your wounded men, of course."

"And the other prisoners?" said Roy.

"I am going to parade them now; so come with me and see."

The strong force pretty well filled the square court-yard, but left a vacant place in the middle into which the general strode; and then giving his orders, there was a pause, during which Roy's gaze turned involuntarily towards the little turret at the corner of the gate tower; but no flag fluttered there, and he felt a pang as he gazed at the tall pole with the halyard against it swayed by the wind.

But he had something else to take his attention directly as he glanced round the walls.

There, standing at the window of the north-west tower, was the upper part of the figure of Master Pawson, framed as it were in stone; and Roy turned away in disgust as a hearty cheer arose, and he saw it was to welcome the brave fellows, who marched from their prison of the night, bandaged, bruised, and sadly damaged in their personal appearance, but with heads erect and keeping step with Ben Martlet, who looked as if he were flushed with victory instead of labouring under defeat.

The men were drawn up in line in the middle of the narrow square, and as they caught sight of Roy just by the general, their military manners gave place to a touch of human nature, for Ben nodded eagerly to his young captain, and wounded and sound all waved steel cap or hand, Farmer Raynes the latter in a left-handed way, for his right was in a sling; and then all burst into a cheer.

Just then, behind the prisoners and over the heads of the line of mounted men, whose horses' hoofs were trampling the flower-beds, Roy caught sight of something white in the open hospital window, and his heart leaped as his mother waved her handkerchief to him, wafting away with it the last trace of the vile mist Master Pawson had raised around her by his assertion.

Roy eagerly responded to the salutation, and then had his attention taken up by the action of the general, who walked along the little line of prisoners, who, to a man, returned his stern scrutiny with a bold, defiant stare. Then turning to Ben, he said—

"How many of these are disciplined soldiers, sergeant?"

"All of 'em far as we could make 'em," replied Ben.

"Yes. But how many were in the Royalist army?"

"Three and me," said Ben.

"You three men, two paces to the rear," said the general, sharply; and the three troopers stepped back.

"Nay, nay!" shouted Farmer Raynes, angrily. "Share and share alike. We were all in it; and I say if you shoot them, shoot us, too;" and he stepped back, the others after a momentary hesitation following his example.

There was a murmur in the Parliamentary ranks as the men witnessed this little bit of heroism, and the general shouted his next order in a very peremptory way.

"Attention!" he cried, addressing the prisoners. "I do not shoot brave men in cold blood, only cowards and traitors."

"Then have that hound down from yon window, general," cried Ben, excitedly, pointing to where Master Pawson stood looking on, "and shoot him. Nay, it's insulting good soldiers to ask 'em to do it, sir. We've an old stone gallows here on the ramparts; have him hung."

A yell of execration burst from the prisoners, and the ex-secretary disappeared.

"Silence!" cried the general. "Attend there. You, sergeant, and you three men, will you take service under the Parliament, and keep your ranks with the promise of early promotion?"

"Shall I speak for you, comrades?" asked Ben.

"Yes," they cried together.

"Then not a man of us, sir. We're Sir Granby Royland's old troopers, and we say, God save the king!"

The general made a sign, and the four men were surrounded and marched to one side in the direction from whence they had been brought; while at another sign, the rest of the prisoners, with Farmer Raynes at their head, closed up in line.

"What are you?" said the general, sternly, beginning with the sturdy tenant of the estate.

"Farmer."

"And you?"

"Butler."

And so all along the line, each man making his response in an independent, defiant tone.

"Will you come and serve the Parliament?" said the general. "I want strong, brave men."

He looked at Farmer Raynes as he spoke, but glanced afterwards at every man in turn.

"Then you must go and look for 'em somewhere else, squire. You won't find a man on Sir Granby Royland's estate."

A murmur from the rank showed how the rest acquiesced.

The general made a sign, and a squad of musketeers surrounded the men.

"Go back to your homes, my lads; but remember, if you are found in arms again, you will be shot. Escort these men beyond the moat."

Farmer Raynes turned sharply to Roy.

"Can't help ourselves, captain," he cried, loudly; "but shot or no, we're ready when you want us again.—Good-bye, Martlet, old comrade.— Take care of him, general, for he's as fine a soldier as ever stepped.— Now, my lads, three cheers for my lady, and then march."

The prisoners burst into a hearty roar, and were then escorted through the gate-way and over the drawbridge beyond the strong picket stationed by the earthwork. Here they cheered loudly again.

"Hallo! who are you?" said the general, sharply, as his eyes lit upon the flowing white hair and beard of the tottering old gate-keeper, who, fully armed, and with his head erect, took a few paces forward from where he had stood before unobserved.

"Sir Granby's oldest follower, and his father's afore him," said Jenk, in his feeble, quavering voice. "Do I go with Ben Martlet and t'others to the prison?"

"No," said the general, shortly; "stop and attend to your young master, and mind you don't get playing tricks with that sword."

"But I'm a soldier as has sarved—"

"Silence, Jenk!" said Roy, hastily stepping to his side. "You must not desert me; I'm quite alone now."

"Oh, very well, if it's like that, sir, I'll stop with you," quavered the old man; and he stepped stiffly behind his young master, unconscious of the smiles and whispers which arose.

Half an hour later the new garrison had settled down to its quarters; the three heavy guns from the battery had been brought in and planted in the gate-way to sweep the approach, and Royland Castle was transformed into a Parliamentary stronghold, protected by whose guns a little camp was formed just beyond the moat, and occupied by the cavalry of the force.

Ben and his three comrades were placed in a room opening on the court-yard, with leave to go anywhere about the quadrangle, with a sentry placed over them—hardly a necessity, for they were all suffering from wounds, of which, however, they made light when Roy went to them, setting him a capital example of keeping a good heart.

Then, finding himself fully at liberty to go where he pleased, the sentries saluting and letting him pass, Roy made for the hospital-room, longing for and yet dreading the interview, fearing as he did to witness his mother's despair.

To his surprise, as she eagerly caught his hands in hers, her face was wreathed in smiles, and she strove to comfort him.

"Defeated, Roy; but even your enemies honour you for your brave defence," she whispered.

"Ours, mother; not mine only," he said. And then, feeling that he could not even allude to the traitor who carefully kept out of his way, he went round to the men's beds with Lady Royland. The place was pretty full now, but in spite of serious wounds the room looked cheerful, and the men of both sides received them with smiles. There was only one sad face, and that was Sam Donny's, for he had taken to his bed again, "from weakness," Lady Royland said.

She passed on to the next bed, and Roy sat down by the poor fellow for a few minutes, to take his hand, gazing the while in his drawn and wrinkled face.

"I'm very, very sorry, Sam," Roy said, gently. "Come, you must try and get right again."

"Yes, captain," said the man loudly, with a groan. "I was to have been out in a few days if I hadn't turned worse. This doctor don't understand my case."

"What is it?" said Roy, anxiously. "Has your wound broken out again?"

"Nothing at all," whispered the man, with his eyes twinkling. "I'm nearly as right as you are, sir; and when you want me, here I am."

"What?"

"Hush! Don't look like that. I'm gammoning my lady, so as they shan't send me away like t'others. You've got a strong man here when you and Ben Martlet wants to make a fight for it again. Oh-h-h!"

He groaned as he saw one of the wounded Parliamentarians looking in their direction, and Roy rose hurriedly and joined his mother, feeling as if he were playing false.

They finished their round of the place, and then went out into the corridor to talk.

"Don't speak about our disaster, Roy," said Lady Royland, clinging to his hand. "We must bear it, and your father cannot blame us for our reverse. There, I shall be busy here, and we must be thankful that we have fallen into the hands of General Hepburn, whose kindness and consideration are far more than we could have expected. He has only one fault—he is an enemy."

"Then you don't blame me for feeling as if I half liked him, mother?"

"We can like the man, Roy, without liking his principles," said Lady Royland, calmly. "Come and see me as often as you can; I shall generally be here, but I suppose you can come to my room sometimes."

"I suppose so," said Roy. "I believe I am to keep mine."

"Yes; General Hepburn told me you should; but, Roy, you will be careful."

"What—about trying to retake the place?"

"It is impossible, my boy. But I did not mean that; I meant about encountering that man—no, he is not a man," she cried, with an angry flash of her eyes. "He has taken possession of the library and the state-room, for he made a bargain with our enemies that his reward for delivering up the place was to be that he should retain the estate afterwards."

"And they wanted the stronghold put down, and agreed," said Roy. "Yes; I pretty well know all, mother. Of course you have heard how he got the men in? All through my neglect?"

"Yes, Roy! No, Roy, there was no neglect! We could not know of that communication."

"I did; but I could not find it. Oh, how that villain did cheat—"

Roy got no further, for his mother's hand was laid upon his lips, and they parted directly after, her last words being:

"Don't think of it, Roy; our position is a happy one compared to his. Even the enemy look upon him with disgust."

"And I was ready for a few moments to believe all he said," thought Roy, as he returned to the court-yard with a strong desire now in his mind, one which grew minute by minute. He only waited for a favourable opportunity to make his request.



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

OLD JENK'S MIND IS TROUBLED.

Two days passed before Roy was able to ask what he wanted. For during this interval General Hepburn seemed too much immersed in affairs to more than give him a friendly nod when they met at meals. Men were being constantly sent out with despatches, and others came. Then the cavalry regiment was always going and coming, "sweeping the country," Ben said, when Roy sat talking by the old soldier, who was more injured than he would own to, and spent most of his time on a stone seat in the sun.

"Tchah! not I, sir," he said, peevishly. "My lady's got her hands full enough. We chaps know how to manage with clean water, fresh bit o' linen, and keep quiet in the sunshine, and natur' does all the rest. We're getting on right enough.—Eh, comrades?"

"Couldn't be better," said the corporal. "Soon be ready to begin again, Master Roy, when you see your chance."

Words like these, and a hint or two again and again from the sick men in the hospital, could not fail to set ideas growing in Roy's brain; but everything was confused and misty yet, and the time went on. Poor old Jenk crept up to the four men, and always had the sunniest spot in the corner given to him, and here he would settle himself, nursing his sword in his lap, and go fast asleep.

"Yes, sir," said Ben, one day; "you see he's so very old. I believe after all he's a hundred, and it's a honour to him, I say. Mean to live to a hundred myself if I can. But see how he sleeps; I don't believe he's quite awake more than three hours a day, and I dessay he'll just come to an end some time in his sleep."

"Poor old fellow," said Roy, softly, as he laid his fresh young hand upon the gnarled and withered fingers that rested upon the sword across the old man's knees.

"Ah, he has been a good soldier in his day, Master Roy, but it's rum how he can't see that he's not a fine strong man now! Why, you might really nigh blow him over, and all the time he keeps on talking about what he's going to do to Master Fiddler as soon as he gets a chance."

"What! he doesn't threaten to attack him?"

"Don't threaten, sir?" said Ben with a chuckle. "But he just do; and then he's going to retake the castle singlehanded."

"But he mustn't have a sword; he'll be making some trouble."

"Well, if he makes an end to Master Pawson, sir, I think he may just lie down and die at once like a regular hero, for he'll have done the finest thing he ever did in his life."

"Oh, nonsense, Ben! You and all of you must mind the poor old fellow does nothing foolish."

Ben growled and shook his head, for his ideas were not at all in accordance with his young master's.

"You need not look so sour, Ben," Roy hastened to say. "Master Pawson will get his deserts some day."

"Yes, sir," said the old soldier, sourly; "his sort generally seem to in this precious world. His deserts seem to be your father's fine old property to wallow in, and get fatter and rounder-faced every day. He'd better not go and sit and read big books belonging to your father atop of either of the towers when I'm nigh, sir, for I'll pitch him off as sure as he plays the fiddle."

The men laughed.

"Oh, you may grin," said Ben, "but I mean it. You know, I s'pose, Master Roy, as they've emptied his room and carried everything into your father's library,—fiddle and all. Oh, how I should like to smash that caterwaulin' thing!"

"I did not know it, Ben," said Roy, thoughtfully. "I keep away from there as much as I can. But I say, Ben," he continued, smiling, as he laid his hand upon the old soldier's knee, "your wound is hurting you a good deal to-day."

"Awful, my lad, awful; it's getting better, but it feels as if a hungry dog was gnawing the bone."

"I thought so."

"Why, how did you know, my lad?" said Ben, innocently.

"Only by your manner. But look here," continued Roy, "I want very badly to see that place where the enemy got in."

"Ay, and so do I, sir. I've lain awake at nights with that place worrying me more than my big chop as ought to ha' been well by this time. I don't understand it yet, only I expect as he let 'em in. So he filled all the long underground passages with the men, and got 'em there ready to go up the towers when the signal was given? I daresay he give it with his miserable squeak of a pipe."

"I'm going to ask General Hepburn to let me see the place."

"And he won't let you, of course. You'll have to give the sentries something, and perhaps they may."

"No; I'm not going to do anything underhanded, Ben. I shall ask the general himself."

"Oh come, I like that, sir," said Ben, derisively. "He didn't do anything underhanded along with Fiddler Pawson, did he?"

"Wound shooting, Ben?" said Roy, drily.

The old soldier chuckled, and the boy rose and went straight to the general's snug quarters in a little place adjoining the dining-room to prefer his request.



CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

THE WAY IN AND THE WAY OUT.

The sentries challenged Roy as he went along the corridors, and it made his heart ache for this to take place in his own old home; but as he was passed on directly, he drew himself up, went to the door, knocked, and the general's deep hard voice cried, "Come in."

General Hepburn was seated at a table writing, but he threw down his pen as he saw who it was, and smiled.

"What can I do for you, my restless prisoner?" he said.

"I want you to give me a pass for the sentries, so that I can go and examine the passage through which you brought your men that night, sir."

"Why? What for?"

"Out of curiosity. Isn't it natural, sir, that after being here all my life, and then tricked like that, I should want to know how it was done?"

"Yes," said the general, abruptly; and he took up his pen and wrote something upon a piece of paper, swept some pounce over it, shook it, and gave it to his petitioner. "You can go and see it."

"And take Sergeant Martlet with me, sir? He was my lieutenant and adviser."

The general snatched the paper back, wrote in a line, and once more handed it.

"Yes," he said; "but I must be strict, boy. You will have a sergeant's guard with you all the time."

"Of course," said Roy; "but I am not going to try and escape to-day."

"No," said the general, smiling, and taking up his pen again; "you are not going to try and escape to-day."