“My fault, my fault! that comes of sending a boy to do a man´s errand. The lad fell asleep and the villains stole a march on us. There is no use crying over milk that is spilt, but I would that I had arranged it otherwise. And old Hackett--I saw he was made of the right stuff; they may break but they will not bend him. I will yet make them pay for it. And now let us hold a council of war, for in no case can we let the grass grow under our feet.” “I fear,” said Gervase, leaning forward on the horse´s neck and feeling faint and ill, “that I am not in a condition to travel with much expedition. I have lost some blood though I do not think the wound is serious.” “Hell´s fury! man, why did you not tell me that you had been touched? Here have we been talking like a pair of garrulous gossips, while haply in the meantime your wound needs that I should look to it. A hospital hath been made ready to our hand, and if needs be we can pass a day or two here in safety, for I do not think the enemy will trouble us. I had already made my bivouac, when I heard Bayard on the road, and turned out to see if I could not better my fortune.” Taking the horse by the bridle he led him a short distance down the road, and then turning abruptly up a path to the right through a small plantation of oaks and poplars, came upon an open space, lately used as a farm-yard, before a low thatched house built of stone and roughly plastered over. The roof had been fired at one end, but the oak rafters were still standing blackened and charred; at the other, where the thatch had not ignited, the roof was still intact. The door lay open, through which shone the glow of a hospitable fire that burned in the open hearth. Macpherson had fastened his cloak against the open window to shut in the light and prevent it being seen from the outside. The greater portion of the simple furniture still stood as the owner had left it--a high-backed oak chair drawn up to the hearth, the rough earthenware ranged upon a dresser against the wall, a bed, known as a settle, in a corner, and a small table roughly put together, under the window. Macpherson helped his young friend off the horse and gently supported him into the kitchen. “We will look to your wound presently,” he said, “but first it behoves us to set our guard and prepare against the approach of the enemy. Howbeit they will not trouble us here; we may lie _perdu_ for a week if needs must, though it were well we should be astir as soon as you think you can travel.” “A day´s rest will set me on my feet, I doubt not,” said Gervase wearily, “but we cannot live without food, though the bullet they have bestowed on me has somewhat robbed me of an appetite.”