I reached out and grasped it, a mist before my eyes. 'Twas the first friendly hand I had clasped since Steele had sailed away and left me weary months before, and I knew what it meant to be alone and friendless among bitter foes.
"Thou shalt not rue it," I said.
And thus Oliver Gates entered my service. He was a treasure, that boy; he fell to and cleaned my muddy clothes and boots, polished my rusty breastplate, mended the rents in my ragged doublet, and was ever at my elbow, ready to serve me.
He had cleaned the musketoon which I carried, and one morning I came suddenly upon him, his eyes fixed upon the sight, the weapon at his shoulder.
"What art thou doing?" I asked in surprise, seeing no one at whom he pointed.
He lowered the gun, a look of confusion upon his face.
"I was but wishing that my Lord Dunraven walked below," he answered, "and I would soon rid thee of him forever;" and he looked up into my face.
I was strangely touched by his thoughts of me, for I had grown to love him well, with his frank and merry ways, ever with a song upon his lips, ever busy with thoughts of my comfort and welfare.
"Lad," I said, "I know not what I would do without thee."