"I should say it was near on to midnight," the other replied, stepping along so briskly that Miles's breath for talking was lost in the effort to keep pace with him.
Up and up they toiled; past Goodman Billington's cottage; past the black cabin where Alden and the Captain lived; and then by the well-trodden path up the sheer hillside, till the planking of the broad platform sounded hollow beneath their feet, and they stood among the guns. The spark in the Captain's pipe gleamed red in the darkness, but Miles could not see the Captain's features; he perceived only that he turned his face from quarter to quarter, and remained longest gazing into the black west, where the ridge of hills ran jagged against the starry sky.
He watched the Captain's movements, but he did not venture to speak till Standish himself broke out: "Well, there'll come no bands to frighten us this night, I take it. We can march home, Miles. We've a fair starlight to make the march under," he added, and, as they stepped from the platform to the yielding turf, lingered an instant to gaze skyward.
"Which is it that is the North Star, sir?" Miles hesitated.
"Why, that one yonder, lad. You know it well."
"I knew 'twas the North Star in England. I knew not if 'twere the same here. It is such a long ways from home."
"It's the same sky, Miles, and the same Heaven, I take it, that we had over us in England."
Miles threw back his head and once more stared up into the sky, that was so vast it made him shrink and feel smaller even than before. He sighed a little, he scarcely knew why, and put his hand on the Captain's sleeve. Standish took Miles's hand in his, and so kept hold on him as they came down from the hill, and in that pressure was something so comforting that Miles was sorry when they reached the door of Master Hopkins's house.
Within was heavy air, and a dull fire, and sleepy faces; Giles had gone to lie down on his bed, and it did not need the Captain's bidding to send Miles blinking after. Once, in the darkness, he was wakened by hearing Lister protest inarticulately that he would rather have his throat cut in his sleep ten times over than rise and watch; and once Miles guessed hazily that some one was shaking him, and he tried to say he was getting up, and in the midst dropped back on his pillow.