It was a splendid, a gallant sight. Each man, as he reached _terra firma_, dropped on one knee, fired deliberately, reloaded, and advanced a dozen paces. Still from the boats behind fresh reinforcements splashed ashore and crowded into the firing-line: while from the eastward rock the vanguard of the Diehards kept up its deadly flanking fire, heedless of the torches that exposed them each and all at plain target-shot to the oncoming host. Still, amid the pealing notes of the bugles, the Major waved his men forward. Captain Pond, breaking loose from him and facing swiftly towards the Cove-head, with a flourish of his blade called upon his mainguard. Under the volley that thereupon swept the beach, the invaders did indeed waver for a moment--so closely it resembled the real thing. As the smoke lifted, however, by the murky glare of the torches they were seen to be less demoralised than infuriated. And now, upon the volley's echo, a drum banged thrice, and from a boat just beyond the water's edge the Troy bandsmen crashed out with: "The Rout it is out for the Looes, For the Looes; Oh, the Rout it is out for the Looes!" "Forward! Forward, Troy!" "Steady, the Two Looes! Steady, the Diehards!" "Form up--form up, there, to the left! Hurray, boys! give 'em the bagginet!" "Death to Invader! Reload, men! Oh, for your lives, reload! Make ready, all! Prepare! Fire!" "Mr. Spettigew! Mr. Spettigew!" "Eh?" Uncle Issy turned as William Oke plucked him by the sleeve. "What's the matter now? Reload, I tell'ee!" "I--I can't, Mr. Spettigew. I've a-fired off my ramrod!" "Then you'm a lost man." "Will it--will it have killed any person, d'ee think?" Oke's teeth rattled like a box of dice as he peered out over the dark and agitated crowd of boats. "Shouldn' wonder at all." "I didn' mean to kill any person, Mr. Spettigew!" "'Tis the sort of accident, Oke, that might happen to anyone in war. At the worst they'll recommend 'ee to mercy. The mistake was your tellin' me." "You won't inform upon me, Mr. Spettigew? Don't say you'll inform upon me!" "No, I won't; not if I can help it. But dang it! first of all you swaller the fuse, and next you fire off your ramrod." "E-everything must have a beginning, Mr. Spettigew." Uncle Issy shook his head. "I doubt you'll never make a sojer, William Oke. You'm too frolicsome wi' the materials. Listen, there's Pengelly shoutin' for another volley! Right you be, sergeant! Make ready--prepare--Eh? Hallo!" Why was it that suddenly, at the height of the hubbub, a panic fell upon the bandsmen of Troy? Why did the "Rout for the Looes" cease midway in a bar? What was it that hushed on an instant the shouts, the rallying cries upon the beach, the bugle-calls and challenges, the furious uproar of musketry?