The Drummer's Coat

by Sir J. W. Fortescue

"And brave and bright on brass and steel
The slanting sunbeams fall.
Like giant snakes, with glittering flakes,
Their columns wind and crawl.

"The red march north and the blue march south,
And we wheel betwixt the twain;
And we hear their song, as they tramp along,
Rise joyous from the plain.

"The red march north and the blue march south,
And the daylight wanes apace,
'Till their fires gleam bright through the falling night,
And the twain rest face to face.

"And the morning's thunder shall be of guns,
And the morning's mist of smoke,
And higher and higher o'er din and fire,
We crows shall rise and croak.

"While the ranks of red and the ranks of blue
In mingled swathes are shorn;
As the poppies nigh to the cornflowers lie,
At the reaping of the corn.

"Oh! merry to stoop over chasing hounds,
As they speed through field and wood,
When their bristles rise, and with flaming eyes
They yell for blood, for blood.

"And merry to croak at the hunted fox,
When his brush trails draggling down,
And his strength is spent, and his back is bent,
And his tongue lolls parched and brown.

"But merriest far to wheel o'er the fight
Of the blue coats and the red,
'Till the fire has ceased, and we swoop to the feast
Which the strife of men has spread."

Dick's last vision before he fell asleep was of her strange figure bent forward and watching, but he was a little startled when he woke in the morning and remembered where he was; for he was not accustomed to sleep in his clothes, still less in such a coat as the yellow one with the red facings, which he found upon his back. Elsie also was much astonished; and the sight of Dick in so strange a garment half frightened her for a moment. But the old woman was so kind and gentle that they were reassured, particularly when she told them that in a very few hours she hoped they would be at home. There was indeed some difficulty about washing, for there was no such thing as jug or basin in the house; and, as to tubs, you would not have found them in those days in any country-house in England. The woman told Dick that all her own washing was done in the stream, so Dick went out to wash his face in it; but the mist still hung thick over the moor, the air was sharp and cold and the water colder still; so that both he and Elsie were satisfied with very little washing. When they went back, they found that the old woman had set the two stools close to the fire for them and was making the porridge; so they breakfasted off porridge and trout, as they had supped on them the day before; and then the old woman gave Dick his own jacket and asked him to take off the yellow one. Dick was a little reluctant to part with it, and asked what it was and where it came from; but she only answered that it was a long story. He followed it with his eyes to see the last of it as she folded it up and put it away, and she smiled rather sadly as she saw him. "I can't a let you have it yet, my dear," she said, guessing his thoughts, "and maybe when I can spare it for 'ee you won't care for to take it. But if ever it goes from me it shall go to you, that I promise 'ee, if so be as I can get it to 'ee."

Then they ran out to see the idiot saddle the ponies, with which he was already as friendly as if he had known them all his life. All animals seemed to take to him, for he had pets without end. The two nanny-goats and the little hind followed him like dogs; the squirrel was always in his pocket or on his shoulder; and a jackdaw and a magpie, both of them pinioned, fluttered after him wherever he went, chattering and scolding as though the place belonged to them. Then the children mounted their ponies and off they started, the idiot leading the way on his own ragged pony, which he rode barebacked and with a halter only for bridle; Dick came next, and then Elsie with the old woman walking by her side. The mist was as thick as ever, but this seemed to make no difference to the idiot, as he guided them up the stream for a little distance and on over the rough yellow grass. The ground was very deep and much cut by tiny clefts that carried the water away from the bog, but the idiot went on straight and unconcerned as though he were on a high road, though often his pony floundered hock-deep. So on they went for a full hour with the mist whirling about them, the children being kept warm in spite of the bitter cold air, by their excitement, and by the constant scrambling of the ponies. At last they reached firmer soil, but after travelling over it for a little way the idiot stopped and held up his hand; and the children listening with all their ears thought they made out the faint sound of a horn. At a sign from his mother the idiot turned, and presently the children found themselves going down hill and realised that the mist was not so thick about them. A little further on they reached the edge of a wood, where the idiot led his pony into a hollow and hobbled it, and guided them into the trees on foot.