"Sometimes," continued the old foretop-man solemnly, "I have wondered why the Lard saw good to take my legs to Himsalf. Rack'n I knaw now." He reached out a huge hand, gripped the little rifleman and pulled him closer. "There's nawthin cut to waste in this world," he whispered huskily. "And it's my belieft He's been savin of em up this ten year past agin this day--to put the strength of em into your'n, Jack Knapp. May you make good use o both pairs--your own o the flesh, and mine o the sperrit!--that's my best prayer for you." The little rifleman, as simple as the old sailor, was profoundly touched. "I'll do me best, Mr. Piper, struth I will!" he sniffed. "Never do to mess it a'ter all His trouble." "Give us your hand on it!" said the old man. "And you too, sir, if so be a common sailor might make so bold." The old sailor and the young shook hands feelingly: the two soldiers followed suit. "Don't forget you're a Black Borderer, my boy," said the Parson, one hand on the rifleman's shoulder. "That I'll never, sir!" replied the little man, almost in tears. Parson and Kit gripped hands: neither spoke. Then the Parson ran up the ladder. CHAPTER L IN THE DRAIN The little party of adventurers filed down into the dark. Blob's lantern shone on the rusty iron door, streaked with damp, which barred the mouth of the drain. It was very chill down there. Knapp was shivering as he played with the bolts. Blob, impassive as a jellyfish, was still sucking at his apple. Quick and clear Kit gave his orders. "Knapp, stop tinkering those bolts about, and stand back till I give the word! Now, Blob, listen here!--Knapp and I are going through this door down the drain. You'll stand here with the lantern, and light us, d'you see?" "Ah!" said Blob. "You're not to stir, d'you see, boy?" "Aw!" said Blob. Kit gripped his arm, and looked into his round and dewy eyes. "Half-way down the drain there's a hole, where the light comes in." He was articulating his words with the slow precision of one addressing a deaf man. _Now if, after we've passed that hole, anybody should get down through it into the drain, then you're to slam the door--and bolt!..._ "Now repeat my instructions." Blob mooned and mowed, his eyes roaming the cellar. "Repate moi ructions," he mumbled at last. "Ass!" snapped Kit. "Here!--stand so!--the lantern between your feet. That's right. Now don't stir. Ready, Knapp?" "On the boil, sir," bobbing and blowing on his fists. "Then come on." Kit drew the wheezing bolts, and flung back the door. A chill breeze entered. Before the boy could stop him, the little rifleman was through the door and away down the drain. "Come back!" ordered Kit in a fierce whisper. The man, stooping in the drain, turned and grinned. "In _my_ Service, sir, Borderers lead." "In _my_ Service, officers do.... Come back!" The boy had nothing but his dirk; but that he pointed resolutely; and the lantern-light glimmered in the darkness as on a steel-barrel.