Rupert took fire from the torch that this harassed messenger had carried into Carlisle Castle. Not long ago he had been a stay-at-home, fenced round with women and old men; and now, by some miracle, he was chosen to ride hard through open country. Across his eagerness, across the free and windy gladness that had come to him, there struck a chillier air; and he stayed for a thought of comrades left in the rear-guard of the action. It was the old, abiding instinct that ran with the simple Stuart loyalty. “Mr. Oliphant,” he said quietly, “we are waiting here for certain death. I choose to stay.” “You choose to stay?” echoed Oliphant. “Because I volunteered--because you must take these dispatches north yourself. I tell you, sir, you must get free of Carlisle. It is death to stay.” Oliphant’s failing strength rallied for a moment. He no longer saw the strained, eager face of this youngster who had given him hero-worship, who was pleading with him for his own safety. Instead, he saw a mountain-burn, high up on the braes of Glenmoriston, and a summer’s day lang syne gone by, and one who walked with him. They had talked together, he and she, and she had been kind and winsome, but no more; and with that dream, high as the stars, yet vastly human, had ended his foolish quest for happiness. He saw her now with the young eyes that had sought answering fire from hers and had not found response. He saw the whaups wheeling and crying over their heads, heard the tinkling hurry of the burn, the lilt of the breeze through the heather. “Death?” he said turning at last to Rupert. “My lad, there are worse friends.” When they came to see him, after he had fallen into a chair, his arms thrown forward on the table, they found a gash across his ribs, of which he had not spoken. He had earned it during the encounter with the sentry, before he swam the moat. “Hard-bitten!” muttered the Governor, with frank pleasure in the man. “Hard-bitten! The Prince is happy in his servants.” After they had carried the messenger to bed, the Governor drew Rupert apart. “See here, boy,” he said sharply, “your sense of honour is devilish nice, but it needs roughening just now. You volunteered for death? Well, the order is countermanded--or, maybe, death’s waiting for you close outside. Anyway, you go out to-night--at once.” “I would rather see my duty that way, sir, if I could.” “Oh, to the deuce with your scruples! You’re young, and think it a fine, happy business to die for the Prince. It’s a braver thing to live for him--through the stark murk of it, lad. Here are your dispatches.” The Governor, at the heart of him, was glad to feel that this promising youngster, who had shown patience and gallantry in siege, should have his chance of a run for liberty. He hurried him out of the Castle and down to the edge of the moat. The night was thick with sleet and wind, friendly for the enterprise because it stifled sound. “You can swim?” said the Governor. “Passably, sir.”