"Because I can't get up," replied Silas. "I've got a spell--a bad one. I always get one when I have been over-excited, and I reckon I've had enough to stir me up this night. You're grand, true boys, you two are. Remember what I told you, when Old Tom barked, hey? Well, I made him bark. It's cost me my haystack, but cheap at the price, yes, sir! cheap at the price." The old soldier's eyes snapped as he spoke at first, but the words finally died down to a faint, droning sound. His eyes closed, and he acted like a person who had sunk into a sudden stupor. "Mr. Berks! Mr. Berks!" called Andy in some alarm, hurrying to the side of the bed and seizing and shaking the arm of the old soldier. Berks smiled stupidly and muttered some incoherent words, but he did not open his eyes. "What shall we do, Phil?" inquired Andy quite anxiously. "He certainly is ill." "But he does not seem to be suffering," said Phil. "You know he spoke of a spell. Leave him alone for a few minutes and see if he doesn't get better. I'll go and look after the burning haystack." Phil found a heap of burning cinders. There was no danger of fire spreading, and he returned to the cabin, to be greeted with the animated remark of the parrot. "Hurrah for liberty!" That familiar cry aroused old Silas. He opened his eyes and smiled at the parrot and the boys. Then he said. "Andy, lad, go to the old cupboard yonder there, will you, and bring me a bottle of medicine you'll find on the middle shelf." Andy found that bottle, and Old Silas drank some of its contents. It seemed to do him good. He managed to sit up in bed, but not without considerable wincing, as if the operation caused him some pain, and he did not attempt to get out of the bed. "Don't look worried, lads," he said, in his usual cheery, piping tone. "I'm simply laid up as a bad lumbago patient for a few hours. As I told you, when I allow myself to get excited and move around too briskly, it upsets me and seems to affect a wound I got in an Indian skirmish years ago. It's a nerve weakness, I guess, and takes me in the limbs. I'll be well again tomorrow. Front face, now! and Attention, company! I got some news to-night." "From Boston?" inquired Andy eagerly. "That's right, lad, from headquarters,--from the seat of war. I've got a very good friend busy in the cause there. He sent home one of my pigeons to-night. It brought me a message." "Oh, Mr. Berks! what was it?" inquired Andy. "Something very important. I bustled around to get my old nag hitched up to go to town to carry the news to your father or some other good member of the committee, when I felt my spell coming on. I had just strength enough to fire off Old Tom, trusting to chance that some one would hear the report and come up here." "Was it important news, Mr. Berks?" inquired Phil, thinking of his native city and the folks at home.