“They will not turn them on me,” answered the Prince.
But M. Bentinck felt uneasy; for William had drawn rein on a slope of the ground, he was an unprotected object for any carbine that might be levelled out of the shadows of the camp.
The news seemed to spread with silent swiftness.
The men gathered in groups of fours and fives, forming up without noise until there was a thick semicircle of them round the Prince.
It seemed they would listen to what he had to say, at least.
William looked keenly over his mute, half-seen audience, and began to speak in his low, deliberate voice—
“I hear that you have fallen into mutinies and disobedience, which is an ill thing for soldiers, and that you do complain of hardships, thereby giving yourselves an evil distinction, for you are the only companies of mine who have so complained.
“I do entreat you remember yourselves, for as surely as those that stand by me will come to ultimate glory, so surely will I have the lives of those who rebel.”
He paused a moment, and there was the slightest movement among the soldiers.