what it meant for the old groom killed it like a sudden frost. 'No,
Mathews,' he whispered. 'It isn't fair to you. I am not going to try
to escape. Give me your hand; I want to say good-bye.'

For answer, the imperturbable Mathews moved off again, and, in a soft
but most unmusical bass, sang the second verse about the amorous
coachman and the susceptible turnkey's daughter. Dick listened,
hanging greedily on every little sound with its atmosphere of Roselawn.

'Mas'r Dick.' Mathews had returned. 'No argifyin' won't get you
nowhere. If I have to knock you atwixt the ears and drag you out by
the 'eels, you're comin' out o' that there stall to-night. I ain't
goin' for to see a Durwent made a target of. No, sir; not if I have to
blow the whole army up, and them frog-eaters along with 'em. Close
that door, Mas'r Dick. I've got a contrary temper, and can't stand no
argifyin' like. Close that door, sir.'

Almost crazed with excitement, Dick strode about the hut. Even if he
were to get away, the chances of capture were overwhelming. But--to be
shot in an open fight for freedom! That would be a thousand times
better than death by an open grave. Freedom! The word was
intoxication. To breathe the air of heaven once again--to feel the
canopy of the stars--to smell the musk of flowers and new grass! If
only for an hour; yet, what an hour!

And then the chance, remote, but still within the realm of possibility,
of reaching the front line, where men died like men. Of all the
desires he had ever known, none had gripped him like the longing for
battle, where death and honour were inseparable.

But once more the thought of Mathews chilled his purpose. It would
mean penal servitude or worse for the old groom, and he was not going
to be the means of ruining him for his faithfulness. He could not
stoop so low as that.

These and a hundred similar thoughts flashed through his mind, and he
was no nearer their solution when the door was opened and a sergeant
shouted a command. He started. For a second he thought that dawn
might be breaking, and that his hour had arrived; but an officer came
up the steps, and he saw with a quiver of relief that it was the
nightly inspection.

'Everything all right?'

'Yes, sir,' he answered.

'Where's the chaplain?'

'He'll be back directly, sir.'

'Food all right--everything possible being done for you?'

'I have no complaints, sir.'

In the light of the lamp held by t