Then Gervase remembered having helped the little citizen out of the trench, and though he did not think there was much likelihood of his being very forward in the melée, he was concerned to hear that he had not made his appearance to receive his wife´s congratulations on their successful stand, as he probably would have done had he been in the land of the living. “I saw him,” he answered, “when we were going into the fight, but I have not seen him since. Never fear for Simon; you will find him safe and sound, I have no doubt. He will have gone back to the city.” “That he hath not--he´s killed, I tell you. Had he been alive he would have been yonder where the Colonel is preaching his sermon. He was ever fond of preaching.” Gervase was heartily sorry to think the little man should have been knocked on the head, and did all he could to comfort his inconsolable spouse. “Come with me,” he said, “and I´ll show you where I left him. We´ll make inquiries by the way, and you´ll find him, I warrant, safe and sound, as I say.” But no one had seen Simon either in the fight or afterwards, nor could anyone tell what had become of him, though he was well known for a courageous and eloquent little man, ever forward with bold counsels. Then they came to the trench where Gervase had lifted him up with his musket on his shoulder, and as they stood there looking up and down, Gervase caught sight of a figure lying half hidden under the shelter of the rampart. Leaping into the trench he ran down and bent over the prostrate body. The face was lying buried in the arms, and the feet were drawn up almost to the chin. Beside him lay his musket. There was no doubt of his identity; it was Simon Sproule. Gervase was almost afraid to touch him; then he bent down and turned him slightly over. The little man raised his face with the fearful look in his eyes that Gervase had seen before. “Don´t hurt me,” he cried, “I surrender peacefully. Why, God bless me! Mr. Orme, is it you? Is it all over, sir? and have we held our own? It hath been a dreadful day. I do not think I shall ever walk again.” “Your wife is here to look for you, Simon,” Gervase said, with a gravity he found it hard to maintain; “she will look after your wound; where is it?” “Oh! it is even all over--from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot. This hath been a terrible time for me. Thank God! Elizabeth, you have come to see the last of me.”