Years afterwards, when Harry was a father and a grandfather, and the children came about his knees clamouring for a story, nothing held them more entranced, nothing caused them such delicious creepiness, as his account of the hours that followed his escape from the French. "There was I," he would say, "in the dead of night, a white mist rising from the fields, growing thicker moment by moment—and I knew not where I was, knew not but an unlucky step might bring me again among the enemy. My knees were trembling under me; my mouth was parched; my breast like to burst with the striving of my breath; I was ready to drop and sleep as I fell. But the thought of my faithful servant in that prison; of his being led out and blindfolded, and standing up helpless to be the mark of bullets; of his poor old father that doted on him—ah! my boys, those thoughts were like a goad to me; ’twas as if I was urged on by some unseen power. "I could not now see the stars, so thick was the mist. I could not choose my way. I could but go forward at a venture, praying that my steps might be directed aright. I staggered into slimy ditches; forced my way through quickset hedges, waded weedy streams; once I came full upon a river that I must needs swim. There was never a cottage light to guide me, for though I crossed many a field of corn and flax, many a broad space of pasture land, I came nowhere near a house or farm, and durst not turn aside, feeling as if some strange power bade me go on and on. I know not for how many hours I struggled on thus, taking no count of time; nor did I feel conscious of my great fatigue, but moved on as though I was a soul without body. "It grew darker and darker. The night seemed to press upon me, the mist was like cold clammy hands seizing me to hold me back. Then all at once, going blindly as I did, I well-nigh struck my head against a low wall, and was immediately conscious of the smell of tobacco. ’Twas like a breath of heaven to me, boys. I cried aloud, and the echo of my voice seemed that of a startled ghost. A rough voice answered me; I stood still, my heart thumping against my ribs. Footsteps drew near, and I saw the blessed light of a lantern, and in a moment a man had me by the sleeve, and drew back his hand with a cry, for my garments were cold and wet, and the light was flashed in my face, and I saw a big Dutch farmer, who took his pipe from his mouth and bade me tell whence I had come and what was my business. "What I said I know not now, boys, but soon I was wrapped in a cloak, lying upon hay in the bottom of a jolting wain, and my new-found friend driving through the dawn towards Thielen. I fell asleep, and when the farmer’s heavy hand stirred me, I was in Thielen, and all around me were soldiers and horses and wagons; ’twas the great duke’s camp. The village clock was striking four; the sky was already bright; the camp was astir, for the duke purposed that day to bridge the Nette.