They reached a sentry and dismounted.
‘Here, who are you, and what do you want?’ he cried.
‘We’re prisoners of war returned from captivity,’ said Jack.
‘What regiment do you belong to?’
‘We did belong to the 17th Lancers.’
‘Here, that won’t do!’ he cried; ‘stand where you are.—Tom, pass the word for the regimental.’
Jack and Linham stood humbly by their horses, while a little crowd of men, all of the 17th, but all strangers from England, gathered round them, staring curiously at the two travel-stained and battered arrivals.
A big man came shouldering his way through the gazers, an officer followed him, and the troopers sprang to attention.
‘Here’s a couple of chaps who say they belong to “ours,”’ said the sentry; ‘but strikes me they’re frauds. They look more like rag-pickers than Lancers.’
The regimental stared at the new-comers; then Jack said, ‘Barrymore, don’t you know us?’