Before they reached the barracks the sergeant dismounted Jack and they both passed in on foot. Jack gave an admiring glance at the smart young soldier, in all his gay trappings, a ten-foot lance surmounted by red and white bannerols in his hand, his spurred heels jingling on the stones as he strode up and down in front of the guard-room, outside which several soldiers, all also in full-dress, were standing or sitting. Sergeant Barrymore’s quarters were reached. The sergeant’s wife, who was quite a superior woman, was soon in possession of the facts of the case. With a woman’s quick instinct she saw that the youth before her was tired and faint and hungry. He was at once taken in; water, with soap and towels, placed for him; and then, when a welcome wash had refreshed him, a pot of coffee with some grilled ham-and-eggs and sweet white bread were waiting for him. Jack ate heartily and soon felt much better. By that time the sergeant had divested himself of his gay trappings, and was in a loose undress jacket, slippers on his feet, and a well-used briar-pipe in his mouth. Jack turned to his host and hostess with the suspicion of a tear in his eye. ‘How can I thank you both for your more than kindness?’ he said. ‘You are indeed good Samaritans, and I can never hope to repay you for what you have done.’ ‘Not a word,’ said the sergeant; ‘it’s every man’s duty to help a comrade in distress.’ ‘But I’m not a comrade,’ said Jack with a smile. ‘I’m just a waster, a failure,’ he added with some bitterness. ‘Tut, tut, all men are comrades; but no more talking. A night’s sleep is what you want. Come with me. We can give you a shakedown, nothing more; but I dare say you’ll sleep well enough, and to-morrow you can get on your way again.’ The sergeant got a basin of hot water, in which Jack bathed his poor, galled feet. Some ointment was applied to them, a rag soaked in liniment tied round his injured knee, and Jack was ready for bed. A couple of regimental blankets on the sofa in Sergeant Barrymore’s sitting-room made a comfortable bed, and thus Jack passed his first night with those who, though he did not know it, for years to come, on land and sea, in comfortable home-quarters or on the blood-stained battlefields of the Crimea, were to be his loyal and gallant comrades. His long and dreamless slumbers were at last broken by a ringing peal of martial music, and he awoke with a start to wonder where he was and what were the sounds he heard. The music, which he knew to be a trumpet-call, ceased; then he heard a variety of sounds, sharp commands given in that tone of voice peculiar to the cavalry service, the trampling of horses’ hoofs on the ground, and the jingling of bits and steel scabbards against stirrups.