The voice of Captain Brook trembled, and I bowed low, for I could not speak. "You know what the rules of the service prescribe," he resumed, "in such a case as yours?" "You have already told me, sir." "Death!" "Yes." "Yet, you shall not die, and your future promotion shall be my peculiar care. Comrades," cried he, to the men of the picket, "in Basil Gauntlet I have discovered the son of an early and dear friend. He is but a young soldier--a mere boy, and I would save him if I can." "You may command us, sir," said Sergeant Duff. "We will do anything for you, Captain Brook," added the men of the 11th, with enthusiasm. "I do not mean to report his dereliction of duty--so give me your words that you will be silent in the matter." "We swear it, sir!" they exclaimed, with energy, and that honest pledge was never broken. "Now, Basil Gauntlet," said Captain Brook, as he gave me back my sword, and grasped my hand, while speaking rapidly and energetically; "you, doubtless, have your father's courage and spirit of honour. These are hereditary, and old Sir Basil could not _will them away_ as he did the acres of Netherwood, the family pictures, and the silver spoons. Be a man, and a brave one, as your father was--I knew him well and hated him--God rest him now, for all that. To-morrow, I shall see that you are taken out of the ranks; for, to-night, I can but share with you the contents of my canteen." An aide-de-camp now came galloping from Cancalle to inquire the meaning of the firing. Some explanation, I know not what, was made, and so ended this remarkable episode, which had a gloomy sequel on the morrow, when all the bright future, which the sudden friendship of Captain Brook had opened to me, was rapidly overcast. About noon the poor man was killed by a shot from a French sharpshooter, as we were advancing through a thick wood. Dr. Lancelot Probe of ours was speedily at hand, but my new friend was gone for ever, and I was one of those who assisted to wrap his remains in a horse rug, and to inter them by the wayside, as we marched towards St. Malo. CHAPTER XVIII. HALT AT ST. SERVAND. During the 7th of June the whole force (save one regiment, which was left at Cancalle to cover our re-embarkation, if necessary) marched towards St. Malo, through a rough and woody country. A dense mist from the ocean enveloped the scenery for some miles inland, and through this we were advancing when Captain Brook was killed. The soil seemed barren, with black sheep grazing among the rocks and boulders; old and ruinous bridges lay across deep swamps and rugged watercourses, that rushed towards the sea. Without molestation we passed several quaint, old manor houses, girdled by weedy fosses and moss-grown oaks--and some whose embattled _porte cocher_ and grated casements opened to long and shady avenues of sycamore trees.