was the path running parallel with the palings on the left of the garden, beyond which was an open field, not altogether destitute of stumps.  Silvanus was posted on the edge of the meadow, at the back of the garden and out-houses; and Timotheus, on the right of the stables and connected buildings.  Just where the beats of the brothers met, there was a little clump of timber, the only point affording cover to an advancing enemy, and to that post of honour and danger Rufus was appointed.  Having placed his men, the Squire returned to the guard-room, his office, 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.