freed
itself, and dashed off into the darkness, barking apparently with
delight.

"It's of no good, Joe; I'm as bad as you," said Gwyn, slowly; "I can't
get up again."

"Never mind, Ydoll; we have done our duty, old chap, as the dads said we
ought to as soldiers' sons. We have, haven't we?"

"No, not quite," cried Gwyn. "Let's have one more try--I will, and you
shall."

He made an effort to rise, but sank back and nearly fainted, but
recovered himself to feel that Joe had got hold of his hand, and he
uttered a piteous sigh.

"Light's going out, Jolly, and if they don't find us soon our lights'll
go out, too. I wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for the mater,
because it will nearly kill her," he continued drearily. "She's ever so
fond of me, though I've alway been doing things to upset her. Father
won't mind so much, because he'll say I died like a man doing my duty."

"How will they know that?" mused Joe, whose eyes were half-closed.
"Let's write it down on paper."

Gwyn was silent for a few moments as he lay thinking, but at last he
spoke.

"No," he said; "that would be like what father calls blowing your own
trumpet. He used to say to me that if he had gone about praising
himself and telling people that he was a great soldier and had done all
kinds of brave deeds, he would have been made a general before now; but
he wouldn't. `If they can't find out I've done my duty, and served my
Queen as I should, let it be,' he said. And that's what we ought to do
when we've fought well. If they don't find out that we've done what we
should, it doesn't much matter; let it go. I'm tired out and faint, as
you are, and--so's the candle, Joe. There, it has gone out."

Joe uttered a low, long, weary sigh, as, after dancing up and down two
or three times, the light suddenly went out.

"Frightened?" said Gwyn, gently, as the black darkness closed them in.

"No, only sleepy," was the reply. "Good-night."

"Good-night," said Gwyn, softly; and the next minute they were sleeping
calmly, with their breath coming and going gently, and the dripping of
water from somewhere close at hand sounding like the beating of the
pendulum of some great clock.

Once more the loud barking of a dog, long after the boys had lain down
to rest, and Grip was dragging first at Gwyn, then at Joe, seizing their
jackets in his teeth and tugging and shaking at them, but with no
greater effect than to make Gwyn utter a weary sigh.

The d