"If it pleases me! Parbleu, Polignac, I’ve drunk nothing but rum since Berk——since the last remittance from my agent was spent. A bottle of sack! Many I’ve emptied with the Czar of Muscovy, whose head, mark you, is not as strong as mine. Certainly, a bottle of sack—the money, my friend?" Some two hours later, Aglionby left the inn at which Mr. Berkeley was putting up. His mood and mien were jovial; his rubicund cheeks even more ruddy than usual. He was too old and tough a campaigner, and too well seasoned by his experiences in Russia, to allow himself to be overtaken in liquor; but he was certainly in an unusually buoyant humour, and trod the street with a confident swing. As he passed along, he jingled the money in his pocket, and appeared to take an uncommon pleasure in the sound. His brow was clear, his eye bright, and he held half-audible communion with his thoughts. "’Tis a hard world, Rafe my boy; odso, ’tis a hard world. ’Tis not often a man gets paid for doing what he would gladly do for nothing. Ay, and ’tis less often he gets paid twice, begad! Rafe, my bully boy, you’re in luck. Stap me, we’ll break another bottle of sack and drink to your success. Nay, nay; hold a little: business before pleasure. A draft from our Hebrew friend—egad, they’re the one good thing I know in Amsterdam; that is easily got; then a letter to the Elector’s chamberlain; oons! ’tis more difficult, but to be faced; I’m no scholard, hang it, but I can pay some poor scrivener that is, whether ’tis to be Latin or French; and to be Captain Rafe once more’s worth a dollar or two for pen-work. Then for a bottle at the Goudenhoof’d. And to-morrow, my friend Rochester and my excellent coz with the scripture name—to-morrow, by the lord Harry, our final reckoning!" *CHAPTER XVII* *In the Dusk* Katrinka—Filial—Fine Feathers—A Practical Joke—Up a Tree—A Trap—In Waiting—The Last Minute—A Bolt from the Blue—Ad Misericordiam—A Theory—With Thanks Harry had for some time been itching for an opportunity of active service in his new calling. Garrison life, with its drilling and exercising, was all very well, and he had much to learn; but the business of a soldier was to fight, and he was eager to take his share in the campaign, on the issue of which so many important interests depended. His chance came at last, and though the result was too tame for his active spirit, he felt that it was at least a beginning.