It was well for Rupert that Hugh kept so close to him, for nearly the last shot fired by the enemy struck him, and he fell beneath the water, when his career would have been ended had not Hugh seized him and lifted him ashore.  So much had the gallantry of the little cornet attracted the attention and admiration of the Dutch, that plenty of volunteers were glad to assist Hugh to carry him to Fort Lille.  There during the night a surgeon examined his wound, and pronounced that the ball had broken two ribs, and had then glanced out behind, and that if all went well, in a month he would be about again.

The numbers of wounded were far beyond the resources of Fort Lille to accommodate, and all were upon the following day put into boats, and distributed through the various Dutch riverine towns, in order that they might be well tended and cared for.  This was a far better plan than their accumulation in large military hospitals, where, even with the greatest care, the air is always impure, and the deaths far more numerous than when the men are scattered, and can have good nursing and fresh air.

Rupert, with several other officers, was sent to Dort, at that time one of the great commercial cities of Holland.  Rupert, although tightly bandaged, and forbidden to make any movement, was able to take an interest in all that was going on.

“There is quite a crowd on the quay, Hugh.”

“Yes, sir; I expect most of these Dutch officers have friends and acquaintances here.  Besides, as yet the people here cannot tell who have fallen, and must be anxious indeed for news.”

The crowd increased greatly by the time the boat touched the quay; and as the officers stepped or were carried ashore, each was surrounded by a group of anxious inquirers.

Hugh, standing by his master’s stretcher, felt quite alone in the crowd—­as, seeing his British uniform, and the shake of his head at the first question asked, none tried to question him—­and looked round vaguely at the crowd, until some soldiers should come to lift the stretcher.

Suddenly he gave a cry of surprise, and to Rupert’s astonishment left his side, and sprang through the crowd.  With some difficulty he made his way to a young lady, who was standing with an elderly gentleman on some steps a short distance back from the crowd.  She looked surprised at the approach of this British soldier, whose eyes were eagerly fixed on her; but not till Hugh stepped in front of her and spoke did she remember him.

“Mistress Von Duyk,” he said, “my master is here wounded; and as he has not a friend in the place, and I saw you, I made bold to speak to you.”

“Oh!  I am sorry,” the girl said, holding out her hand to Hugh.

“Papa, this is one of the gentlemen who rescued me, as I told you, when Sir Richard Fulke tried to carry me off.”

The gentleman, who had looked on in profound astonishment, seized Hugh’s hand.