"Weel, sir, for lack of a nail the shoe was lost, and for lack of the shoe the horse; and for want of his horse the trooper came to grief, being overtaken in his boots and slain by the enemy. And all this came aboot by the lack of a nail in his horse's shoe--sae quoth my faither the smith." "And thus, Hob, if I understand your parable, you think that for lack of a little prudence you have all lost your liberty, and I my promotion and liberty for years to come?" "Just so. Had we gone threes about at the time I ventured to hint it, we would have been on the other side of the river wi' auld Geordie Preston just now. But as for years, sir, dinna speak o' years," he exclaimed, clenching a huge bony hand that must often have swung the great hammer in his father's forge, and at the village games: "there is not a prison in a' France, e'en the _Basteel_ itsel', that will haud Hob Elliot gin he wants to win oot." My anger at Shirley was deep--too deep for me to express to my companions in misfortune. I remembered how he had withheld the letter of Aurora, from the time we were quartered in Alphen, until the morning of Minden; how, on this very day, he had smilingly warned me to remember that the bridge of Freyenthal was undermined; how I had seen him gesticulating with our unwilling men, and had witnessed their most evident hesitation ere he snatched the match from one and sprung the mine! I saw more clearly than ever that he loved my cousin; that he viewed, or thought he viewed in me a rival, and believed that he had now fully provided for me for some time at least, if not for ever, as few could tell what might be the dangers and contingencies of a military imprisonment in France. Then occurred an idea under which I writhed anew. That after enduring perhaps years of captivity--years during which my comrades of the Greys would be playing the great game of war and glory--years that would see my brother subalterns all captains and field-officers, I might be transmitted with others home to find myself a cornet still, and a penniless one too, while, probably, Shirley the poltroon, who had worked me as much evil (just as his brother had done poor Charters) might be the husband of Aurora, and the proprietor of my patrimony--of Netherwood, its hall and fields, wood and wold! With this chain of thought burning within me I turned fiercely and looked back to the old tower of Freyenthal. Across the snow-clad landscape it was distinctly visible, with a group of redcoats near it; but I was not permitted to loiter, as a tug of the cord which secured me to my horse warned me that the rider was impatient, and compelled me to trudge on. We soon reached the train of waggons which were halted in the ravine, and amid the cracking of whips, and much noisy congratulation and laughter, the escort of the Volontaires de Clermont resumed their route, we knew not and cared not whither.