"True, sir, haven no larnen I feel it so. And will ’ee go shoulder to shoulder with our English sojers?" There was a note of anxiety in his voice. "That I can’t say. I hope that my regiment won’t be left out in the cold." "Well, sir, there’s a providence in’t. Them above knows what they’re about, to be sure, in a general way, and I bean’t agwine to set up for knowen better. I’ll sarve ’ee, sir, polish your breastplate, currycomb your horse, oil your boots, clean your pistols, keep an eye on the sutlers, and——" "You seem to have a good notion of your new duties," said Harry, laughing. "Pretty good, sir, for a man o’ peace," said Sherebiah imperturbably. "And when do ’ee mount your horse as a sojer, Master Harry?" "Zoon," put in Grootz. "General van Santen himself will introduce him to his broder officers; he tell me zo." "Ay, so. Well, ’tis a world o’ changes. For you, sir, ’tis a change for the better, barren ’ee bean’t killed; for me,—well, the truth on’t is, I fear ’tis the beginnen o’ the end for Sherebiah Stand-up-and-Bless." *CHAPTER XIII* *Concerning Sherebiah* A Summons—Coy’s Horse—Vain Search—A Clue—Sentenced—Confession—A Quiet Mind—A Friend in Camp—The Informer—Intercession—Who Goes There?—Hit—The Mantle of Night—In a Ditch One evening, a few days after he had received news of his commission, Harry returned home somewhat later than usual from his customary stroll. He was fond of walking through the pleasant woods to Scheveningen, and watching the herring-boats as they sailed out for the night’s work. He would chat with the fishermen, and had indeed by his frank manner, and perhaps an occasional gift of tobacco, established himself as a favourite with them. On this evening, feeling a little tired, he threw himself into a chair in the parlour, and sat musing, gazing into the glowing sky as the sun went down. By and by old Gretel entered and began to lay the supper. She had gone in and out two or three times in silence before Harry bethought himself and said: "Why, Gretel, how is it Sherry is not helping you to-night?" "By den donder, Mynheer, you may well ask! He seems bewitched since the great news. Not half so helpful to my poor old bones as he was." "But where is he?" "He has not returned yet." "Returned from where?" "Why, Mynheer, he went out at once after receiving your message, and——" "My message!" "Ja, Mynheer, the message sent by the boy." "What boy? Come, Gretel, I sent no message. I know nothing about a boy. Tell me all you know." "It was about four o’clock, Mynheer, a boy of twelve or so came to the door—a stranger to me. He asked for Sherry Minshull—no mynheer to his tongue. I called to Sherry, and heard the boy say, ’Mynheer Rochester wishes you to come——’ then the big bell of the Groote Kerk tolled, and I heard no more. But Sherry reached down his hat and said he was going to you, and he and the boy went away together."