tunity to make his request.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

OLD JENK'S MIND IS TROUBLED.

Two days passed before Roy was able to ask what he wanted. For during
this interval General Hepburn seemed too much immersed in affairs to
more than give him a friendly nod when they met at meals. Men were
being constantly sent out with despatches, and others came. Then the
cavalry regiment was always going and coming, "sweeping the country,"
Ben said, when Roy sat talking by the old soldier, who was more injured
than he would own to, and spent most of his time on a stone seat in the
sun.

"Tchah! not I, sir," he said, peevishly. "My lady's got her hands full
enough. We chaps know how to manage with clean water, fresh bit o'
linen, and keep quiet in the sunshine, and natur' does all the rest.
We're getting on right enough.--Eh, comrades?"

"Couldn't be better," said the corporal. "Soon be ready to begin again,
Master Roy, when you see your chance."

Words like these, and a hint or two again and again from the sick men in
the hospital, could not fail to set ideas growing in Roy's brain; but
everything was confused and misty yet, and the time went on. Poor old
Jenk crept up to the four men, and always had the sunniest spot in the
corner given to him, and here he would settle himself, nursing his sword
in his lap, and go fast asleep.

"Yes, sir," said Ben, one day; "you see he's so very old. I believe
after all he's a hundred, and it's a honour to him, I say. Mean to live
to a hundred myself if I can. But see how he sleeps; I don't believe
he's quite awake more than three hours a day, and I dessay he'll just
come to an end some time in his sleep."

"Poor old fellow," said Roy, softly, as he laid his fresh young hand
upon the gnarled and withered fingers that rested upon the sword across
the old man's knees.

"Ah, he has been a good soldier in his day, Master Roy, but it's rum how
he can't see that he's not a fine strong man now! Why, you might really
nigh blow him over, and all the time he keeps on talking about what he's
going to do to Master Fiddler as soon as he gets a chance."

"What! he doesn't threaten to attack him?"

"Don't threaten, sir?" said Ben with a chuckle. "But he just do; and
then he's going to retake the castle singlehanded."

"But he mustn't have a sword; he'll be making some trouble."

"Well, if he makes an end to Master Pawson, sir, I think he may just lie
down and die at once like a regular