“Ay, corporal,” chorused the others.
“Oh, that’s capital!” cried Roy, eagerly. “It relieves me of a good deal of anxiety. But my father—he’ll expect a letter back.”
“No, sir; he said there was no knowing where he would be with the regiment, and we were to stay here till he sent orders for us to rejoin.”
“Where is Martlet?” asked Roy then.
“Said something about an armoury,” replied the corporal.
Roy hurried off, and in a few minutes found the old soldier busy with a bottle of oil and a goose feather, applying the oil to the mechanism of a row of firelocks.
“Oh, here you are, Ben,” cried Roy, excitedly. “News for you, man.”
“Ay, ay, sir, I’ve heard,” said the old soldier, sadly. “More rust.”
“Yes, for you to keep off. My father’s orders are that the castle is to be put in a state of defence directly.”
Down went the bottle on the floor, and the oil began to trickle out.