The thought that the winning of a commission in that troop meant more such days of service with Strangwayes caused Hugh to redouble his efforts to please Turner, and he succeeded so far that after the first skirmish the captain suffered him to carry the cornet. For the rest, Turner met all his honest efforts and prompt obedience with sarcasms on his youth and simplicity, which made Hugh wince and go on laboring bravely. Only one word of approbation did he get of Turner; that was on a pouring wet night when Hugh came in from a watch with the pickets, soaked to the skin, and, finding no food, lay down without a word on the floor of the cottage where the officers were quartered, and went sound asleep. Through his waking he could have sworn he heard Turner say, “After all, Lieutenant, there’s the right mettle in this crop-headed whelp.” Though when Hugh opened his eyes and saw Turner standing over him with a candle in his hand, the latter only said, “My faith, sir, do you ever do aught but sleep?” Thus with work and enjoyment of work the month of November passed, and meantime his Majesty with the bulk of his army had marched to London, and then marched back again. Afterward men said a kingdom might have been gained upon that journey and had been cast away, but at that time Turner’s troop had only rumors of marches and countermarches, till in the early December a definite order reached them to repair to the king’s headquarters at Oxford and join themselves to their regiment. It was in the mid-afternoon that they at last rode into the city, where the High Street was gay with bravely dressed men and sleek horses, and the old gray buildings seemed alive with people. So many fine troops were passing and re-passing that none gave special heed to the little muddy band out of Northamptonshire. They passed unnoticed out by the North Gate toward the parish of St. Giles, where quarters had been assigned Sir William’s regiment, and there, in the dingy stable, the officers parted. Hugh of necessity surrendered the cornet into Turner’s hands with a last regretful look at its idle folds. “You made shift not to lose it, did you not, sir?” the captain said with some kindness. “Why, you’re no more of an encumbrance to a troop of fighting men than most youngsters are.” Then Turner and Strangwayes walked away to report themselves to Sir William, while Hugh remained to see that Bayard and Dick’s Black Boy were well groomed. To tell the truth, he was glad to linger in the stable with the men among whom he had spent the last month; he wondered if he was to have the chance to serve with them always, and the thought made him nearly tremble with expectancy.