e he calculated that there must be twelve or fourteen
men, with Ben Martlet, Farmer Raynes, and the corporal.

He was nearly right to a man. There were, including their officers,
twelve men penned up in the big stone chamber, where they had plenty of
arms and ammunition. The others had their quarters in the five chambers
in the towers, and were stationed as sentinels. All these had been
accounted for, save the wounded men in hospital.

And as Roy listened to the hurrying tramp of feet, there was gathering
silence on the ramparts, while around him, in the court-yard, hundreds
of men were united and drawn up in line.

Then, in the darkness beneath the gate-way, Roy heard a commanding voice
call upon the men in the guard-room to surrender.

"What?" came out clearly in a harsh, snarling voice, which Roy hardly
knew as Ben's. "Do what?"

"Surrender, my man! The place is taken."

"Yes, by cowardly treachery, Ben," yelled Roy, desperately. "Don't give
in. Fight to the last."

A man came hurrying up, and the secretary, fierce with passion, stood
before him.

"If this boy dares to speak another word, ram a gag in his mouth.--No,
not yet.--Here, bring him up to the gate."

Roy was half pushed and dragged to the great archway, and, as he reached
it, the clock chimed the quarter after midnight.

"Now, general," cried Pawson, "we'll have them out. It's not worth
while to waste good men's lives to tear a set of mad rats out of their
hole."

"Well, get them out," said the same commanding voice, and in the officer
a short distance from him, Roy recognised the one he had met with the
flag of truce.

"Now, then, if you value your life," snarled Pawson in the boy's ear,
"order those fools to come out before we blow them to pieces with a keg
of powder. Do you hear? Come forward and speak!"

Roy felt a fierce desire to spit in the traitor's face, but he mastered
himself and stepped forward.

"Ah, you've come to your senses, then," said Pawson. "Lucky for you, my
popinjay. Now, then, tell them to surrender."

"Why?" said Roy, spitefully. "They don't know what it means."

"Speak!" cried Pawson; and he pricked the lad with the point of his
sword.

Roy in those terrible moments had to fight hard to be dignified, as he
felt he ought to be, before the enemy; but the desire was strong upon
him, when he felt a slight prick in the side from the keen point of the
sword, to turn round and kick his aggressor with all