The fellow looked up. "The Prince!" he said—"Prince Rupert! Has your Highness come in for misfortune too?"
"My share. You carried the name of Coghill, if I do not disremember?"
"Coghill," said the fellow, "and rode with your Highness through many a noisy day."
"Especially at Edgehill, lad, and earned that wipe across the face by saving my poor life."
"I did not wish to recall the debt, your Highness," said the fellow, "being in this plight. It was General Fairfax that give it me. He'd a lusty arm, and could sit a horse."
The Prince wrung his hands. "I would I could serve you, lad," he said, "but I am in sorry plight myself, and the King is as bad."
"Well," said the fellow, with a sigh, "I must make shift to serve my time. I'm tough, and a common soldier looks to taking what befalls. But for officers that was delicate nurtured, it is different. This life kills them off like flies."
The Prince groaned. "I am powerless, lad," he said—"powerless."
"If your Highness could stretch a point," the fellow persisted, "it would be good for the Colonel. He will die else."
"What colonel?"