The Crimson Sign

was idle to hope for mercy; he was in the hands of a man who was not likely to trouble himself further about his fate. He felt that he must die, and that he must face death with what courage h

d die. He had no desire for 55the martyr′s death and the martyr′s crown; he loved life and clung to it, and now all the more when he was in danger of losing it. Men like Hackett might find consolation and support in religion at a time like this, but for himself it could not lift him superior to the fear of suffering and the dread of death. There was, however, some consolation in the thought that he had striven honestly to do his duty, and that he had not begged in any unmanly way for life. Then his thou

arching for a loose plank 56he came to the door which opened from without. He stood listening for the tread of the sentry′s feet, but there was no sound audible but the beating of his own heart that throbbed wildly with the hope of escape. The door was not guarded. The planks of which the door was made, were light and had been roughly put together, but he found it impossible to make any impression upon them, though he strained and pulled till his wound broke out afresh. In the darkness he searched for a weap

s do not a

n bars

ocent and

r an he

ose their meaning for him; but the feeling remained with him, and by a

s opened, someone entered, and the flash of a lantern for a moment dazzled his eyes. It was De Laprade, flushed with w

these gentlemen are not nice in their manners nor long in their grace. It would give me much delight to measure swords with Galmoy, but the barbarian will not fight sa

ng man who has but a few hours

n putting my colonel to bed, and his condition is such that he will be hard to awake. I,

he could not take advantage of the gallant Frenchman′s generosity, and he shook his head. “I cannot allow you,” he said, “to

rme. No man shall prevent my paying my debts of honour, whether they be debts of friendship or enmity. And shall I refuse to give him

o not reco

t is the best in the stable; and for a passport, this will have to serve your turn, though it will be best that you should avoid showing it too frequently. The name of De Laprade will not carry you far in this barbarous country. But, in faith, the signature might pass for that of His Majesty King Louis himself, or for that matter, of

rvase with warmth, “for I can never forget how much I ow

ough I fear he has not the nice sense of honour. I knew him in Whitehall; he is no king, but a priest in the purple, and a priest without piety. Your William is cold, but he is the better man. There is but one thing more. Should you again find your c

, and the sound of loud and uproarious laughter rang on the quiet night as he helped Gervase into the the saddle. There was little likelihood of pursuit, for 60it was clear that no precautions had been taken to guard the prisoners, and before Gervase was missed he would have put many a good mile between himself and his pursuers. The only fear was,

d. “Is it not also possible to save the sergeant? I feel that

o more than I have done, but I tell you to be of good courage regarding his safety, for I give you my word of honour that I will do what I can for the p

tness, though he walked him slowly past the sleeping houses. Then he came to the bridge, and on the bridge the the horse started suddenly and sniffed at something lying at his feet. The night was dark with the moon lifting faintly through a bank of cloud, but Gervase saw on the road the body of a man lying on his back with his arms outspread. He dismounted with difficulty and stooping down, saw it was Ralston. The body was already cold and the pulse had ceased to beat. It was evident that

s a sharpness in the wind blowing down the mountain-gap. But Gervase heeded neither the rain nor the wind. For a time the sense of deliverance swallowed up every other thought, but presently he began to consider what fate was in store for him. It was hardly likely that he could reach Londonderry in safety, for the enemy would by that time no doubt have completely invested the city; and there was only a remote chance of his finding a ship in Lough Foyle, could he get so far. He had now no doubt that the enemy hel

CAUGHT HIS HOR

he could see the dull red light of the rising dawn at the further end. On one side of the road was a sluggish pool of water and on the other a high hedge of thorns. He had ridden half way through this dark colonnade when he saw the figure of a man standing in the shadow, apparently awaiting his approach. He could not see his face but he could see that he had a weapon in his hand. He instinctively drew from his holster the pistol wi

nt, sir, and that speedily; I have business to do that will not br

oice as that of Macpherson. The horse, too, had re

vase; “right glad am I to see you, for I had

I know. Little did I think as I heard the sound of the horse′s feet far down the road that I was listening to the tramp of my brave Bayard, or that it was for you that I held my swor

ed his life to the kindness of De Laprade, and how Hackett had b

any interjaculations, and when he

ng over milk that is spilt, but I would that I had arranged it otherwise. And old Hackett--I saw he was made of the right stuff; they may break but t

faint and ill, “that I am 65not in a condition to travel with much exped

e your wound needs that I should look to it. A hospital hath been made ready to our hand, and if needs be we can pass a day or two here in safety, for I do

nd, but the oak rafters were still standing blackened and charred; at the other, where the thatch had not ignited, the roof was still intact. The door lay open, through which shone the glow of a hospitable fire that burned in the open hearth. Macpherson had fastened his cloak against the open window to shut in the light and p

,” he said, “but first it behoves us to set our guard and prepare against the approach of the enemy. Howbeit they will not troubl

e wearily, “but we cannot live without food, though the bullet

veral measures of meal in the chest yonder; there are some lean fowl roosting in the byre, and I heard the lowing of a cow in the little meadow at the foot of the orchard, though I cannot understand why her

, with a wan smile, “′tis

ed five of us with excellent, if scanty, sustenance for a month, until we fell out over the horns and hoofs, and two of us were removed thereafter from all need of earthly p

ital, and am like to be a

ch had I not rather cared to break heads than to mend them, whereby it seems to me the two trades are but complements the one of the other. In a day or

an hour he had looked to his wound, which had opened afresh and bled considerably, had prepared a meal, and had stretched a bed for him along the hearth, which though rough and hard, was very acceptable in his present condition. Then Bayard was stabled a

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