"Yes. Never surrender, Jenk. Too good soldiers for that." "Ay, ay, ay!" cried the old man. "Too good soldiers for that. Brave boy! Your father's son. But you'll have my little gate-house built up again, Master Roy, when they've gone, eh? They've knocked it about a deal. But old soldiers don't mind scars." "Oh, yes; we'll have it put right when we've made the enemy run." "Yes, yes, make 'em run, Master Roy; and I'll tell your father what a brave soldier Ben Martlet and I have made you." The old man chuckled and went in at the door-way to mount the spiral stairs, while Roy turned and looked up at the flag, well blown out by the evening breeze. "Poor old fellow! Helped to make me a soldier, has he? Well, it pleases him to think so." The lad ran his eye along the side of the court-yard, sadly trampled now, and fancied he saw a head quickly withdrawn at one of the narrow windows of the north-west tower; but he was not sure, and it did not impress him then as he went on to the hospital-room, where the wounded men received him eagerly, Sam Donny being the most demonstrative, and ending by begging that he might be ordered on duty again. "Another week at least, first," said Roy. "Only too glad to have you all back." Roy stayed till it was dark, and he was descending to the court-yard when a loud shouting below took his attention, and upon running out he found a knot of men eagerly talking and looking up at the gate tower. "What is it? What's wrong?" said the boy, excitedly. "The flag, sir," cried Farmer Raynes. "Did you order it to be pulled down?" "I? No!" cried Roy, excitedly. "I said it was to be kept up night and day. Who has dared to do this?" CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. BY A TRAITOR'S HAND. The last words were spoken as he hurried across to the door-way in the gate tower; and before he reached the platform at the top, he could hear Ben Martlet storming and shouting at the men, who were very silent; but from the noise of footsteps it was evident that they were running to and fro. As Roy reached the top of the stairs, it was to find his exit on to the platform blocked by Ben and the corporal, the former being decked with the flag hanging over his shoulder like a mantle. They were evidently busy with the halyards at the little opening, down beside which the flag-pole butt was fixed in iron loops, and through which window the flag was hoisted and the halyards secured. "What's the meaning of this?" cried Roy, breathlessly. "The enemy will think we have surrendered." "Let 'em come, then, sir, and we'll show 'em we haven't," roared Ben, fiercely. "But why was the flag hauled down?" "Wasn't hauled down, sir. Come down with a run right on to the leads." "What! Did the line break?" "I wish it had broke, sir. You just look at that!" And he held out an end of the thin, strong hempen cord which ran through a pulley at the top of the pole, and to which the flag was always attached. "Cut?" cried Roy.