"Ay, and mere luck that 'ee happened to be born wi' a headpiece; mere luck that 'ee can handle a sword and sit a horse; mere luck that 'ee've got sojer's blood a-rompen through your veins. Daze me, if all that be luck—well, Them above med as well ha' no finger in poor mortal pies at all."
"Well, well, Sherry! But confess, 'twas odd to come upon Captain Aglionby again, and in that house; what do you say to that?"
"Say! I say 'tis old Satan hisself playen pranks, and we'll ha' to keep an eye on the villain."
"I laughed to see their heads in chancery; 'twas well done, Sherry, to haul them down the stairs as you did. What has become of the captain to-day, I wonder?"
"Trust me, he be doen mischief somewheres. I knows Cap'n, ay, I do."
From the stout Baron von Schummelpincken downwards the prisoners wore a crest-fallen air. Save for the colonel and his subalterns they all marched on foot, the horses being tied head to tail as Harry had often seen at English country fairs. They had been marching for about an hour when the head of the convoy met General van Santen's aide-de-camp galloping at breakneck speed. He reined up when he noticed soldiers among the men. Harry cantered to his side. Explanations were rapidly exchanged. The Dutchman laughed heartily when he heard how the enemy had been fooled.
"To tell the truth," he said, "I should never have thought the general capable of such a stratagem."
"Indeed!" said Harry.
"I wish I had been there. It would have been more fitting that I should take the prisoners to Breda than you, a sutler, I suppose you call yourself."
"I don't think it necessary to call anybody names, Mynheer, myself least of all. The general expected assistance; why has it not accompanied you, Mynheer?"