“Come, sir, that’s safe. You won’t set sentries to-night?”
“No, of course not,” said Roy; “that will be unnecessary till there is news of some enemy being near.”
Chapter Thirteen.
The Coming of Recruits.
The next morning the carpenter was there with the capstan bars soon after the bridge was lowered; and upon these being tried, after the capstans and pulleys had been well greased, the portcullis was lowered and raised several times with the greatest facility, each time becoming more easy to move, while old Ben’s eyes glistened, and he worked as if all these preparations for the defence of the place, with the possible shedding of blood and loss of life, had suddenly added a delightful zest to his existence.
But he was not alone in this, for Roy found a strange exhilaration in his new position. There was something so novel in everything, and try how he would, it was hard to keep down a feeling of vanity, especially when he came upon his mother busily preparing a scarf for him to wear.
“For me?” he said. “Oh, mother! it’s too fine.”
“Not at all,” she said, quietly. “Your men will like to see their leader look striking.”