“Only set him thinking about them murdering camp-followers, missus, and make him unhappy, and we don’t want that, do us?”
“No, Joe, dear,” she cried; “I should think we don’t.”
And so the time had nearly come for the remnant to march to the port and embark for England, when a farewell party was given to the officers by a Mr and Mrs Trevor, the principal merchant and his lady, and out of compliment the Colonel and officers sent the band up to the mansion to play in the garden during dinner, Dick being told that he might go with the musicians to see the sight.
Everyone of note was there, and the sight was grand in the lit-up grounds. There was feasting and speech-making and thanks given to the brave men who had saved the country from the oppressor, and the Colonel returned thanks.
It was just then that the band-master turned to Dick and said:—
“Go up to the Colonel and ask him if we shall play the dance music now.”
The band was stationed by one of the open windows, and Dick, in his best uniform, had only to step in and go round behind the Colonel’s chair to whisper to him.
“Ah, Dick, my boy,” he said. “Dance music? Yes. Stop; I’ll ask our hostess. By the way, Mrs Trevor,” he said, turning to the tall, sad-looking lady at whose side he was sitting, “let me introduce to you the greatest man in our corps, the brave little fellow who saved my life.”
Mrs Trevor turned smilingly round, when a sunburned gentleman on her other side gave utterance to a gasp and sprang from his chair.
“My dear madam,” cried the Colonel, “are you ill?”