"Did," said the boy, with a chuckle. "Ah! Where abouts? Not above where we get our drinking water?" "Course I didn't," said the boy scornfully. "I ain't a Frenchy." "Ahoy-y-y-y!" The hail came from high up in a woody ravine far above their heads, and the boy shaded his eyes and said excitedly--"Here, look. It's Joe Beane, and he's found something good. Got it on his shoulder." "What is it?" cried Mrs Beane. "A kid?" "No, it's a bag o' something. It's--no, he's hid among the trees again. It was a bag, though--looked whitish." "It's flour," cried Mrs Beane triumphantly. "Oh, Tom! We'll have cakes to-night, and you shall carry some to the officers' mess." "Give us one if I do, Mother Beane?" "Ah, pig! I never saw such a boy to eat." "Well, how can I help it? I get so holler," grumbled the boy. "It's 'cause I'm growing." Five minutes later a tall manly-looking soldier came down the rugged track, with his face and hands torn and bleeding, and dropped upon his knees before his astonished wife and a group of half a dozen men who hurried up. "Oh, Joe," cried the woman, "what have you got there?" "Young shaver," panted the man. "Found big house yonder, half burnt. Five dead folk, and this here." "Oh, Joe!" cried the woman, taking her husband's burden from him, sinking upon her knees, and laying the head of a handsome little fellow of about eight against her breast, to begin rocking herself to and fro and sobbing bitterly. "Oh, the wicked cruel wretches! To go and murder a poor little boy like this! Look at his face! Look at his hair, half burned off, and the rest all blood. Oh! If you were men you'd ketch and kill some of 'em for this." A low growl arose from the soldiers around, and Tom Jones sniffed, drew his bugle round from where it hung at his back, and dropped two silent tears in its mouth. "You Tom," cried Mrs Beane, "don't stand sniffing and snivelling there like a great bull calf. Take the tin dipper and fetch it full of clean water. Oh, Joe, Joe! It's too late. The poor little darling's dead." "Warn't when I fun' him," said the corporal. "He'd crep' away a bit, and he moved one hand." "Yes, and he's warm still," cried the woman excitedly. "Here, you men, clear off. You go and serve out the mess, Joe. Never mind me." "But you'll want a bit o' dinner, missus; and I found two ripe melons up in the garden there, but I left 'em behind." "Don't talk to me about melons and dinners," cried the woman angrily. "Go and get your own, all of you; and how much longer's that boy going to be?"