w us be going home, if us can get there. Glad if we never
sees a fight again."

"Well," I said, "I must get to the Duke if I can. How far is it to
Bridgewater?"

"Matter of fifteen mile," they said, after a short debate. "You'll never
get there tonight. Nor perhaps tomorrow, since we hear the soldiers be a
coming."

"I'll get some of the way tonight," I said; but my heart sank at the
thought; for I was tired out.

"No, young master," said one of the men kindly, "you stop with us for
tonight. Come to supper with us. Us 'ave rabbits on the fire." Their
fortnight of war had given them a touch of that comradeship which
camp-life always gives. They took me with them to their camp-fire, where
they fed me on a wonderful mess of rabbits boiled with herbs. The men
had bread. One of them had cider. Our feast there was most pleasant; or
would have been, had not the talk of these deserters been so melancholy.
They were flying to their homes like hunted animals, after a fortnight
of misery which had altered their faces forever. They had been
in battle; they had retreated through mud; they had seen all the
ill-fortune of war. They did all that they could to keep me from my
purpose; but I had made up my mind to rejoin my master; I was not to be
moved. Before settling down to sleep for the night I helped the men to
set wires for rabbits, an art which I had not understood till then,
but highly useful to a lad so fated to adventurous living as myself. We
slept in various parts of the spinney, wherever there was good shelter;
but we were all so full of jangling nerves that our sleep was most
uneasy. We woke very early, visited our wires, then breakfasted heartily
on the night's take. The men insisted on giving me a day's provision
to take with me, which I took, though grudgingly, for they had none too
much for themselves, poor fellows. Just before we parted I wrote a note
to Sir Travers, on a leaf of my pocketbook. "Dear Sir Travers," I wrote,
"These men are well-known to me as honest subjects. They have had great
troubles on their road. I hope that you will help them to get home.
Please remember me very kindly to your niece." After folding this
very neatly I gave the precious piece of impudence to one of the men.
"There," I said, "if you are stopped, insist on being carried before Sir
Travers. He knows me. I am sure that he will help you as far as he
can." For this the men thanked me humbly. I learned, too, that it was of
service to