with a catch in his voice, as he sat
down on the bedside.

"I suppose I do, sir," returned Oglethorpe; "it is main sore."

"I am used to wounds and wounded men," returned the visitor. "I have
been in the wars and nursed brave fellows before now; and, if you will
suffer me, I propose to stay beside you till the doctor comes."

"It is very good of you, sir, I am sure," said Oglethorpe. "The trouble
is they won't none of them let me drink."

"If you will not tell the doctor," said Mr. Archer, "I will give you
some water. They say it is bad for a green wound, but in the Low
Countries we all drank water when we found the chance, and I could never
perceive we were the worse for it."

"Been wounded yourself, sir, perhaps?" called Oglethorpe.

"Twice," said Mr. Archer, "and was as proud of these hurts as any lady
of her bracelets. 'Tis a fine thing to smart for one's duty; even in the
pangs of it there is contentment."

"Ah, well!" replied the guard, "if you've been shot yourself, that
explains. But as for contentment, why, sir, you see, it smarts, as you
say. And then, I have a good wife, you see, and a bit of a brat--a
little thing, so high."

"Don't move," said Mr. Archer.

"No, sir, I will not, and thank you kindly," said Oglethorpe. "At York
they are. A very good lass is my wife--far too good for me. And the
little rascal--well, I don't know how to say it, but he sort of comes
round you. If I were to go, sir, it would be hard on my poor girl--main
hard on her!"

"Ay, you must feel bitter hardly to the rogue that laid you here," said
Archer.

"Why, no, sir, more against Engleton and the passengers," replied the
guard. "He played his hand, if you come to look at it; and I wish he had
shot worse, or me better. And yet I'll go to my grave but what I covered
him," he cried. "It looks like witchcraft. I'll go to my grave but what
he was drove full of slugs like a pepper-box."

"Quietly," said Mr. Archer, "you must not excite yourself. These
deceptions are very usual in war; the eye, in the moment of alert, is
hardly to be trusted, and when the smoke blows away you see the man you
fired at, taking aim, it may be, at yourself. You should observe, too,
that you were in the dark night, and somewhat dazzled by the lamps, and
that the sudden stopping of the mail had jolted you. In such
circumstances a man may miss, ay, even with a blunderbuss, and no blame
attach to his marksmanship." ...

THE YOUNG CHEVALIER