's his son's letter,' said one of the Sidlinch men. ''Twas found in
his father's pocket. You can see by the state o't how many times he read
it over. Howsomever, the Lord's will be done, since it must, whether or
no.'

The grave was filled up and levelled, no mound being shaped over it. The
Sidlinch men then bade the Chalk-Newton choir good-night, and departed
with the cart in which they had brought the sergeant's body to the hill.
When their tread had died away from the ear, and the wind swept over the
isolated grave with its customary siffle of indifference, Lot Swanhills
turned and spoke to old Richard Toller, the hautboy player.

''Tis hard upon a man, and he a wold sojer, to serve en so, Richard. Not
that the sergeant was ever in a battle bigger than would go into a half-
acre paddock, that's true. Still, his soul ought to hae as good a chance
as another man's, all the same, hey?'

Richard replied that he was quite of the same opinion. 'What d'ye say to
lifting up a carrel over his grave, as 'tis Christmas, and no hurry to
begin down in parish, and 'twouldn't take up ten minutes, and not a soul
up here to say us nay, or know anything about it?'

Lot nodded assent. 'The man ought to hae his chances,' he repeated.

'Ye may as well spet upon his grave, for all the good we shall do en by
what we lift up, now he's got so far,' said Notton, the clarionet man and
professed sceptic of the choir. 'But I'm agreed if the rest be.'

They thereupon placed themselves in a semicircle by the newly stirred
earth, and roused the dull air with the well-known Number Sixteen of
their collection, which Lot gave out as being the one he thought best
suited to the occasion and the mood

He comes' the pri'-soners to' re-lease',
In Sa'-tan's bon'-dage held'.

'Jown it--we've never played to a dead man afore,' said Ezra Cattstock,
when, having concluded the last verse, they stood reflecting for a breath
or two. 'But it do seem more merciful than to go away and leave en, as
they t'other fellers have done.'

'Now backalong to Newton, and by the time we get overright the pa'son's
'twill be half after twelve,' said the leader.

They had not, however, done more than gather up their instruments when
the wind brought to their notice the noise of a vehicle rapidly driven up
the same lane from Sidlinch which the gravediggers had lately retraced.
To avoid being run over when moving on, they waited till the benighted
traveller