There, standing at the window of the north-west tower, was the upper part of the figure of Master Pawson, framed as it were in stone; and Roy turned away in disgust as a hearty cheer arose, and he saw it was to welcome the brave fellows, who marched from their prison of the night, bandaged, bruised, and sadly damaged in their personal appearance, but with heads erect and keeping step with Ben Martlet, who looked as if he were flushed with victory instead of labouring under defeat.
The men were drawn up in line in the middle of the narrow square, and as they caught sight of Roy just by the general, their military manners gave place to a touch of human nature, for Ben nodded eagerly to his young captain, and wounded and sound all waved steel cap or hand, Farmer Raynes the latter in a left-handed way, for his right was in a sling; and then all burst into a cheer.
Just then, behind the prisoners and over the heads of the line of mounted men, whose horses’ hoofs were trampling the flower-beds, Roy caught sight of something white in the open hospital window, and his heart leaped as his mother waved her handkerchief to him, wafting away with it the last trace of the vile mist Master Pawson had raised around her by his assertion.
Roy eagerly responded to the salutation, and then had his attention taken up by the action of the general, who walked along the little line of prisoners, who, to a man, returned his stern scrutiny with a bold, defiant stare. Then turning to Ben, he said—
“How many of these are disciplined soldiers, sergeant?”
“All of ’em far as we could make ’em,” replied Ben.
“Yes. But how many were in the Royalist army?”
“Three and me,” said Ben.
“You three men, two paces to the rear,” said the general, sharply; and the three troopers stepped back.
“Nay, nay!” shouted Farmer Raynes, angrily. “Share and share alike. We were all in it; and I say if you shoot them, shoot us, too;” and he stepped back, the others after a momentary hesitation following his example.