“Old Villars wanted to bring us to fight, but the duke was too wary for him. He sat down before Bouchain, that had a large garrison of picked men, commanded by the bravest officers in the French army, with stores, guns, and ammunition in plenty. The duke had to make a causeway over a morass before he could get at ’em at all, and there was Villars behind us, ready to cut us to pieces, and that stubborn fortress in front. It was the hardest siege I ever knew, though it was not the longest. The people at home were clamoring for the duke to fight Villars instead of taking Bouchain; but the duke knew that if he could get the fortress he would have the control of three great rivers--the Scheldt, the Meuse, and the Lys--and then we could cut off any army the Grand Monarque could send against us. ’Tis a deal harder, sir, to keep men’s spirits up in a siege than in a battle. The army would rather have been fighting Villars any day; but there we were, laying trenches, mounting our guns, and every day closing in on that town. The duke was very anxious after a while to know what the condition of the town was within the bastions, and every young cornet and ensign in the army wanted to risk his skin by sneaking in and finding out. But while the duke was turning this over in his mind it happened that the enemy sent us a flag of truce in regard to an armistice. The duke did not want an armistice, but he wanted mightily to know how things were looking inside, so he agreed to send a flag of truce back. The French, though, are not to be easily outwitted, and they made it a condition that the officers sent with the flag be blindfolded. Three officers went in; but they had their sashes tied around their eyes, and the only thing they saw when they had been led blindfolded for a half-mile through the town and into the citadel was a very handsome room in which the commandant received them. They talked awhile, but did not come to any terms; and then the commandant very politely invited them to take some refreshment, and a regular feast was set out for them--just to make them think that provisions were plenty--and the French officers who dined with them ate scarcely anything. But they looked gaunt and hollow-eyed enough, and I warrant they fell to as soon as the English officers left. So, after all, Lord Fairfax was the one to get in.” “Was anybody with him?” asked George. “Well, sir--the fact is, sir--I was with him.” George jumped up off the floor, and, seizing Lance’s hand, wrung it hard in his enthusiasm. Lance smiled one of his grim smiles. “Young gentlemen are apt to think more of a little thing like that than it’s worth,” was the old soldier’s commentary on this, as George again seated himself on the floor and with eloquent and shining eyes besought Lance to tell him of his entrance into the besieged fortress.