d made his
way around the sickle-shaped ledge of rock, and under the guns of the
half-moon battery, to the outer gate. Only a cat, a fox, or a low,
weasel-like dog could have done it. There were many details that would
have enabled the observant little creature to recognize this barrier as
the place where he had come in. Certainly he attacked it with fury, and
on the guards he lavished every art of appeal that he possessed. But
there he was bantered, and a feint was made of shutting him up in the
guard-house as a disorderly person. With a heart-broken cry he escaped
his tormentors, and made his way back, under the guns, to the citadel.

His confidence in the good intentions of men shaken, Bobby took to
furtive ways. Avoiding lighted buildings and voices, he sped from shadow
to shadow and explored the walls of solid masonry. Again and again he
returned to the postern behind the armory, but the small back gate that
gave to the cliff was not opened. Once he scrambled up to a loophole in
the fortifications and looked abroad at the scattered lights of the city
set in the void of night. But there, indeed, his stout heart failed him.

It was not long before Bobby discovered that he was being pursued. A
number of soldiers and drummer boys were out hunting for him, contritely
enough, when the situation was explained by the angry sergeant. Wherever
he went voices and footsteps followed. Had the sergeant gone alone and
called in familiar speech, "Come awa' oot, Bobby!" he would probably
have run to the man. But there were so many calls--in English, in
Celtic, and in various dialects of the Lowlands--that the little dog
dared not trust them. From place to place he was driven by fear, and
when the calling stopped and the footsteps no longer followed, he lay
for a time where he could watch the postern. A moment after he gave up
the vigil there the little back gate was opened.

Desperation led him to take another chance with men. Slipping into the
shadow of the old Governor's House, the headquarters of commissioned
officers, on the terrace above the barracks, he lay near the open door
to the mess-room, listening and watching.

The pretty ceremony of toasting the bandmaster brought all the company
about the table again, and the polite pause in the conversation, on his
exit, gave an opportunity for the captain to speak of Bobby before the
sergeant could get his message delivered.

"Gentlemen, your indulgence for a moment, to drink a