and
ordered Tryphosa to bring refreshments for the guard, to which he added
a box of cigars. The guard discussed the cold ham, the cheese and
biscuits, and, in addition, Mr. Errol indulged in some diluted sherry,
Perrowne and Wilkinson in a glass of beer, and the Captain and the
veteran in a drop of whiskey and water. The Squire took a cigar with
those who smoked, but maintained his wakefulness on cold tea. Every half
hour he was out inspecting the sentries. Coristine had suggested that
the friendly answer to a challenge should be Bridesdale, but, lest the
enemy should hear this and take advantage of it, all suspicious persons
should be required also to give the countersign, Grinstuns. The dominie
sneered at him for the latter; but, when he saw his friend sally forth
with loaded pistol to the post of danger, his enmity died, and, rising,
he silently shook hands with him at the door. Returning to the
guard-room, he breathed a silent prayer for his friend's safety, and
then fortified his inner man with the fare provided. Conversation
accompanied the impromptu supper, and the subsequent cigar or pipe, at
first led by the divines, but afterwards taken clean out of their mouths
by the Captain and the veteran, who furnished exciting accounts of their
experience in critical situations.

The Squire had gone out for the second time to inspect the sentries. It
was eleven o'clock. Coristine, who was first visited, reported a sound
of voices at the back of the house, and Toner confirmed the report. The
commander-in-chief hastened to the gate leading into the hill meadow,
and perceived a figure struggling in the strong grasp of Sylvanus. The
sentinel's left arm was round the prisoner, and the gun was in his right
hand. As they came towards the gate, the Squire heard piteous entreaties
in a feminine voice to be let go, and the answer: "'Tain't no kind o'
use, Tryphosy, even ef ye was arter Timotheus an' not me; that ain't it,
at all. It's this: yer didn't say Bridesdale when I charlinged yer, nor
yer couldn't bar-sign Grinstuns. All suspicious carriters has got to be
took up, and, ef that ain't bein' a suspicious carriter, this mate on
the starn watch don't know what is. I'm rale sorry for yer, and I'm
sorry for Timotheus, but juty is juty and orders is strict. Come on,
now, and let us hope the Square'll be marciful."

"What is the meaning of this nonsense, Pilgrim?" asked the commander,
angrily.

"It's a suspicious carriter as ca