'But that's impossible!' cried the squire.
'It's a fact,' I said. 'Never in my life had I realized the effect which a cool, courageous man could have upon a crowd of men. Call it a miracle if you like,—indeed I always shall think of it as a miracle,—but without once losing his nerve, or once revealing the slightest lack of confidence, he worked upon the fears and hopes of those Boches in such a way that he persuaded them to follow him, and give themselves up in a body as prisoners. It was one of the most amusing things you ever saw in your life, to see this one man lead those thirty Boches, while they held up their hands and cried "Kamerad."'
'By George, sir!' said the squire, 'that's great, great, sir! No one but an Englishman could do a thing like that. Ah, the old country is the old country still! But who was he, an officer or a private?'
'A private,' I replied.
'And he rescued you, and took the whole thirty Huns as prisoners? By
Jove, I should like to know that man! Is he alive now?'
'Very much alive,' I laughed.
'Where is he, then?'
I nodded my head towards Edgecumbe, who all the time had been sitting in silent protest.
But my story had done its work. The squire's apparent dislike was over, and, acting upon the generous impulse of the moment, he started to his feet and rushed to Edgecumbe's side.
'Give me your hand, sir,' he cried; 'I am proud to know you, proud to have you sitting at my table!'