"Ha! Gerald, my fine fellow," exclaimed Captain Molineux, as the youth now joined their circle, "so you have clapped on the true harness at last. I always said that your figure became a red jacket a devilish deal better than a blue. But what new freak is this? Had you not a close enough berth to Jonathan in the Miami, without running the risk of a broken head with us today in his trenches?" "No such luck is there in store for my juniors, I fancy," replied Grantham, swallowing off a goblet of wine, which had been presented to him--"but if I do fall, it will be in good company. Although the American seems to lie quietly enough within his defences, there is that about him which promises us rather a hot reception.". "So much the better," said Villiers; "there will be broken heads for some of us--who do you think we have booked for a place to the other world?" Gerald made no answer, but his look and manner implied that he understood himself to be the party thus favored. "Not so," returned Villiers, "we can't afford to spare you yet besides the death of a blue jacket can in no way benefit us. What's the use of 'a bloody war and a sickly season,' that standard toast at every West India mess, if the juniors are to go off and not the seniors-- Cranstoun's the man we've booked." "Captain Cranstoun, I have the honor of wishing you a safe passage, and speedy promotion in Heaven," said Middlemore, draining off his glass. "Devilish good port this of yours. By the bye, as you have a better port in view, you cannot do better than assign over what is left of this to me." "Thonk ye, Mr. Meeddlemore," retorted Cranstoun drily, yet good humouredly; "yeet as ye're to be attoched to my deveesion y'ell perhops roon jeest the same reesk, and as it may be that y'ell not want more wine than we've taken the day, any moore than mysel', a pleedge ye, in retoorn, a safe possage to Heeven, when a troost ye will be joodged for better qualities than ye poossess as a poonster." "What," asked Gerald, with an unfeigned surprise, when the laugh against Middlemore had subsided; "and is it really in his own wine that you have all thus been courteously pledging Captain Cranstoun's death?" "Even so," said Middlemore, rallying and returning to the attack, "he invited us all to lunch in his tent, and how could we better repay him for opening his hampers, than by returning his SPIRIT SCOT-FREE and UNHAMPERED to Heaven," "Oh, oh, oh," ejaculated St. Clair, stopping his ears and throwing up his eyes; "surely, Middlemore, if you are not shot this day, it must be that you were born to be hanged--no man can perpetrate so horrible a pun, and expect to live." "I'm hanged if I am then," returned the other; "but, talking of being shot--is a there another shot in the locker, Cranstoun--another bottle of port?" "The shot that is reserved for you, will bring you acquainted with another locker than Cranstoun's I suspect," said Villiers; "one Mr. David Jones' locker--hit there eh?"