There was a murmur in the Parliamentary ranks as the men witnessed this little bit of heroism, and the general shouted his next order in a very peremptory way.
“Attention!” he cried, addressing the prisoners. “I do not shoot brave men in cold blood, only cowards and traitors.”
“Then have that hound down from yon window, general,” cried Ben, excitedly, pointing to where Master Pawson stood looking on, “and shoot him. Nay, it’s insulting good soldiers to ask ’em to do it, sir. We’ve an old stone gallows here on the ramparts; have him hung.”
A yell of execration burst from the prisoners, and the ex-secretary disappeared.
“Silence!” cried the general. “Attend there. You, sergeant, and you three men, will you take service under the Parliament, and keep your ranks with the promise of early promotion?”
“Shall I speak for you, comrades?” asked Ben.
“Yes,” they cried together.
“Then not a man of us, sir. We’re Sir Granby Royland’s old troopers, and we say, God save the king!”
The general made a sign, and the four men were surrounded and marched to one side in the direction from whence they had been brought; while at another sign, the rest of the prisoners, with Farmer Raynes at their head, closed up in line.
“What are you?” said the general, sternly, beginning with the sturdy tenant of the estate.