to the honor of the brave captain Hugh Habershaw, and his
glorious dogs that won the battle of Grindall's ford!"

A broad and coarse laugh burst from the captain at the announcement of
this toast.

"By my sword!" he exclaimed, "the fight was not a bad fight."

"Can you find a joint of venison, Gideon?" said Peppercorn, aside. "If
you can, give it, and a cup of spirits, to the prisoners. Stop, I'll do
it myself, you will have the old bull-dog on your back."

And saying this the dragoon rose from his seat, and taking a few
fragments of the meat which had been stripped almost to the bone, placed
them, together with a canteen, beside Butler.

"Make the best of your time," he said, "you have but short allowance and
none of the best. If I can serve you, I will do it with a good heart;
so, call on me."

Then turning to the sergeant, who sat nigh, he whispered in his ear,
and, with a distinct and somewhat taunting emphasis, inquired,

"Friend Horse Shoe, mayhap thou knowest me?"

"That I do, James Curry," replied the sergeant, "and I have a mean
opinion of the company you keep. I don't doubt but you are ashamed to
say how you come by them."

"All is fish that comes into the Dutchman's net," said Curry. "To-night
I have caught fat game. You are a sturdy fellow, master Blacksmith, and
good at a tug, but remember, friend, I owe you a cuff, and if you
weren't a prisoner you should have it."

"Show me fair play, James Curry, and you shall have a chance now," said
Horse Shoe; "I'll keep my parole to surrender when it is over."

"Silence, fool!" returned Curry, at the same time rudely pinching
Robinson's ear. "You will be a better man than I take you to be, if you
ever wrestle with me again. I have not forgotten you."

The dragoon now rejoined his comrades.

"Peppercorn," cried Habershaw, "d----n the prisoners, let them fast
to-night. The lads want a song. Come, the liquor's getting low, we want
noise, we want uproar, lad! Sing, bully, sing!"

"Anything to get rid of the night, noble captain. What shall I give
you?"

"The old catch, master Orderly. The Jolly Bottle, the Jolly Bottle,"
cried Habershaw, pronouncing this word according to ancient usage, with
the accent on the last syllable, as if spelt "bottel;" "give us the
Jolly Bottle, we all know the chorus of that song. And besides it's the
best in your pack."

"Well, listen, my wet fellows!" said Peppercorn, "and pipe lustily in
the chorus."

Here the orderly