"A confoundedly good chance, sir, and I can't say I have much faith in our row of dove-cots and their pop-guns. We must have every man ready who can carry a musket. Whip up all your men, billet 'em in Battle, somewhere handy—here, if you like. Have your wagons ready. We are waiting in the dark. Villeneuve may be coming up the Channel for all we know."
Jasper had the grave face of a man who took his duties very seriously.
"It shall be done, Captain Jennison. I am to act for Captain Curtiss?"
"Good Lord, sir, yes. That gentleman will be shaving himself when the French cavalry are galloping past Tunbridge."
Captain Jennison gathered his men and rode on, while Jasper sent Jack Bumpstead to re-saddle Devil Dick, and went to spend five minutes with his father. He was fond of the fiery, blasphemous old curmudgeon, and Squire Kit was proud of Jasper, and very generous in his way. He was the sort of man who cursed because it had become a habit with him, and ill health had not sweetened his temper.
"Well, Jasper, well, lad——?"
"Captain Jennison has been here, father. It is likely that the French may get across."
"The French! Rot their teeth! Let 'em come, sir. What are we in such a pest of a fear of the French for? We'll give 'em something to remember. Let 'em come, I say."
Jasper was at the door and ready to mount when a green curricle came swinging up the road, with Rose Benham's plain face looking out from a big straw bonnet.
Jasper smothered a gust of impatience. Rose threw the reins to the groom, and descended with an air of eager concern.