to kill any person, Mr. Spettigew!"

"'Tis the sort of accident, Oke, that might happen to anyone in war.
At the worst they'll recommend 'ee to mercy. The mistake was your
tellin' me."

"You won't inform upon me, Mr. Spettigew? Don't say you'll inform
upon me!"

"No, I won't; not if I can help it. But dang it! first of all you
swaller the fuse, and next you fire off your ramrod."

"E-everything must have a beginning, Mr. Spettigew."

Uncle Issy shook his head. "I doubt you'll never make a sojer,
William Oke. You'm too frolicsome wi' the materials. Listen,
there's Pengelly shoutin' for another volley! Right you be,
sergeant! Make ready--prepare--Eh? Hallo!"

Why was it that suddenly, at the height of the hubbub, a panic fell
upon the bandsmen of Troy? Why did the "Rout for the Looes" cease
midway in a bar? What was it that hushed on an instant the shouts,
the rallying cries upon the beach, the bugle-calls and challenges,
the furious uproar of musketry?

Why, within twenty yards of the Cove-head, in the act of charging
upon the serried ranks of Looe's main guard, did Major Hymen face
about and with sword still uplifted stare behind him, and continue to
stare as one petrified?

What meant that strange light, out yonder by the Cove's mouth, in the
rear of his boats?

The light grew and spread until it illuminated every pebble on the
beach. The men of Troy, dazzled by the glare of it, blinked in the
faces of the men of Looe.

THE FRENCH!

"A trap! A trap!" yelled someone far to the right, and the cry was
echoed on the instant by a sound in the rear of the Diehards--a sound
yet more terrible--the pounding of hoofs upon hard turf.

Again Captain Pond rushed forward and caught the Major by the elbow.

"The Dragoons!" he whispered. "Run for your life, man!"

But already the ranks of the Diehards had begun to waver; and now, as
the oncoming hoofs thundered louder, close upon their rear, they
broke. Trojans and men of Looe turned tail and were swept in one
commingled crowd down the beach.

"To the water, there! Down to the water, every man of you!"

A voice loud as a bull's roared out the command from the darkness.
The Major, still waving his sword, was lifted by the crowd's pressure
and swept along like a chip in a tideway. His feet fought for solid
earth. Glancing back as he struggled, he saw, high above his
shoulder, lit up by the flares from seaward, a line of flashing
swords, helmets