"So's aw could chew th' cud o' mi last meat, for aw'm awmost famished, an' aw cannot mak' a meal o' milk like a caulf." And then I must have dozed off, for I heard no more for a long time. The weary day dragged its lingering length. I slept by fits and starts. 'Siah, worn out, slumbered heavily. A swallow darted through the slit high up in the wall, skimmed round the rafters, intent upon nest building in the thatch--a rat ran across my feet. I could hear the crowing of a cock and the clucking of hens in the yard outside, and the song of a lark soaring in the heavens made me long for light and freedom. After what seemed an eternity of time the kine were driven in from the pastures for milking. I heard a voice coaxing them in: "Coop--coop--coop." Then there were two voices, a man's and a woman's, and some talk I strained my ears to catch. "Luds," "sojers," "dead," and "poor lad"--this from the woman; but I could not piece the fragments to make sense. Then I judged the man was foddering his beasts, and I knew the hour of my deliverance was at hand. The gloom deepened, and all was still save for 'Siah's heavy breathing. Then I heard the sound of wheels, the door was opened cautiously, and a limp fell upon the flags. "Are ta theer, 'Siah?" And 'Siah creeped upon his knees to the limit of the hay bowk. "Ger up an' ma' as little noise as tha can." "Can ta walk, Ben?" 'Siah held me by the left shoulder, and leaning heavily on him I gained the door. Outside was our good old Bess. I could have wept to see her: such a flood of sweet home memories swept over me. The bottom of the cart was covered with hay and in one corner of it was our new roan calf. Soldier Jack and 'Siah between them lifted me into the cart,--and I sank exhausted by the effort and the pain, down by the dumb wondering brute that slobbered upon my face and gave a slimy lick at my lips. "Tha mun drive, 'Siah. Go slow, by Deanhead. Aw'll walk on i' front, and if aw start whistlin' tha'll know som'dy's comin'. The sojers are scourin' th' country. Th' Luds are hidin' for their lives. There's small hell to play ovver this neet's work. Tha munnot hurry, an' keep out o' th' ruts an' jolt him as little as tha can." "What's th' cauf doin' here?" muttered 'Siah. "Tha dunderhead. We' mun cover Ben up wi' t' straw. Leave him his nose aat an' nowt else; then if we meet a search party they'll happen think tha'rt fetchin' a cauf wom. Tha' mun act as gaumless as tha' can, an' na' drive on an' ma' as if aw'd nowt to do wi' thee."