Hugh nodded without looking at his father; he was conscious of a queer, shamed feeling, as if he had been himself at fault. “Yet you stood up before that hound Bellasis and took that hack in the face for me. I used you like a villain, Hugh,” the captain blurted out; “even Ruth could not forgive me for it. But, lad, if we come alive from this, I’ll strive to make you forget it.” “I am forgetting now,” Hugh said honestly. “And if you’d looked as if you wanted me, I’d ha’ come to you before.” “I did want you. And you waited for me to look it, did you? I’m thinking we’re something alike, lad.” He put his arm about the boy’s neck with a sudden, half rough caress. “Turner said you had as decent a courage as most lads and a bit more sense,” he broke out. “Faith, I believe him. And if we come through here you shall have a chance to show it to every man in the troop, yes, to the same fellows that flogged you.” Hugh edged a little nearer his father. “I’d do my best to show them; I’d like the chance,” he answered; then added thoughtfully, “Though, after all, I am not sorry for that flogging. If I’d not known some hard knocks already, they might have been able to frighten me yesterday.” There he stopped, unavailingly, for the captain pounced down on him and did not rest till he got the whole history of the last hours. Hugh put all the emphasis he could on Master Oldesworth and on Lois, but Peregrine and Thomas Oldesworth were dragged in at the captain’s urgence, and the captain’s face grew ominous. “’Twas not clean dealings on Tom Oldesworth’s part,” he said betwixt his teeth. “Well, when it comes to the last we’ll remember it against him.” With that he got up to go about his business, but presently strode back with a cushion. “Put that under your head, Hugh,” he bade, and taking up the cloak helped the boy wrap it round him. “You’ll find it cold here in the church as soon as the sun goes down,” he explained. “Try to sleep, though; get what strength you can against to-morrow.” After he had gone, Hugh settled himself to sleep, but it took a time, for his arm ached relentlessly, and his head was hot and his mouth dry. Moment after moment he lay staring down the dusky church, where the twilight was filling in, and harked to the slow step of those on guard. The shades had gathered dark, and his eyes were closing, when he realized that the man who had been groaning in the transept was quiet now. He guessed what that meant, and something of the ugliness of death came home to him. He sat up eagerly to look for some companionship, then felt ashamed and lay down again to listen and listen once more, and think on Peregrine’s threats and Thomas Oldesworth’s set, implacable face. When he went to sleep at last his kinsmen followed him, even through his dreams.