"By my sword!" he exclaimed, "the fight was not a bad fight." "Can you find a joint of venison, Gideon?" said Peppercorn, aside. "If you can, give it, and a cup of spirits, to the prisoners. Stop, I'll do it myself, you will have the old bull-dog on your back." And saying this the dragoon rose from his seat, and taking a few fragments of the meat which had been stripped almost to the bone, placed them, together with a canteen, beside Butler. "Make the best of your time," he said, "you have but short allowance and none of the best. If I can serve you, I will do it with a good heart; so, call on me." Then turning to the sergeant, who sat nigh, he whispered in his ear, and, with a distinct and somewhat taunting emphasis, inquired, "Friend Horse Shoe, mayhap thou knowest me?" "That I do, James Curry," replied the sergeant, "and I have a mean opinion of the company you keep. I don't doubt but you are ashamed to say how you come by them." "All is fish that comes into the Dutchman's net," said Curry. "To-night I have caught fat game. You are a sturdy fellow, master Blacksmith, and good at a tug, but remember, friend, I owe you a cuff, and if you weren't a prisoner you should have it." "Show me fair play, James Curry, and you shall have a chance now," said Horse Shoe; "I'll keep my parole to surrender when it is over." "Silence, fool!" returned Curry, at the same time rudely pinching Robinson's ear. "You will be a better man than I take you to be, if you ever wrestle with me again. I have not forgotten you." The dragoon now rejoined his comrades. "Peppercorn," cried Habershaw, "d----n the prisoners, let them fast to-night. The lads want a song. Come, the liquor's getting low, we want noise, we want uproar, lad! Sing, bully, sing!" "Anything to get rid of the night, noble captain. What shall I give you?" "The old catch, master Orderly. The Jolly Bottle, the Jolly Bottle," cried Habershaw, pronouncing this word according to ancient usage, with the accent on the last syllable, as if spelt "bottel;" "give us the Jolly Bottle, we all know the chorus of that song. And besides it's the best in your pack." "Well, listen, my wet fellows!" said Peppercorn, "and pipe lustily in the chorus." Here the orderly sang, to a familiar old English tune, the following song, which was perhaps a common camp ditty of the period. "You may talk as you please of your candle and book, And prate about virtue, with sanctified look; Neither priest, book, nor candle, can help you so well To make friends with the world as the Jolly Bottle." "Chorus, my lads; out with it!" shouted the singer; and the whole crew set up a hideous yell as they joined him. "Sing heave and ho, and trombelow, The Jolly Bottle is the best I trow.