art."

"But you've been weak and ill, Ben, and a rest does you good."

"No, it don't, sir. Does t'others good; and thanks to my lady and the
doctor, every one's got well 'cept Sam Donny, whose leg is reg'lar
twissen up like, and as if it would never come straight again. Seems
queer, too, as a wound uppards should affect him so downards."

"Oh, he'll be right when the war's over."

"When it's over, sir? But when will that be?"

"Ah! I don't know, Ben," said Roy, with a sigh. "But there, don't
fret. Take it easy for a bit, and grow strong."

"I am strong, sir. Strong as a horse--but do I look like the sort of
man to take it easy? I've sat on that bench in the sun warming one
side, and turning and warming the other side, till I've felt as if I
hated myself. It aren't as if I could read. Begin to wish I could now,
not as I ever knowed much good come out o' books."

"Why, Ben!"

"Ah, you may say `Why, Ben!' sir, but look what books'll bring a man to!
Look at that there Fiddler Pawson. Shuts hisself up even now, doing
nothing but read, and only comes out o' nights, and goes prowling round
the ramparts like an old black tom-cat. You can often hear the sentries
challenging him."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Roy. "I've heard them challenge some one
when I've been watching the stars."

"What business have you watching the stars o' nights, sir?" said Ben,
sourly.

"Can't always sleep, Ben, for thinking."

"Humph!" growled the man. "Howsoever, sir, I do live in hopes."

"Yes; so do I."

"Ah, not same as me, sir. I lives in hopes o' one o' the sentries
making a mistake some night."

"And shooting him, Ben?"

The sergeant winked, nodded, and rubbed his hands.

"Only wish they'd put me on duty, sir."

"You wouldn't shoot him, Ben, if they did."

"Then I'd save the powder and bullet, sir, and pitch him into the moat,
same as the enemy did a lot of our chaps--all them as didn't jump--but
they all got safe over, I suppose."

Roy began to walk up and down with his companion, passing the other
prisoners from time to time on the wide bench in the corner; while old
Jenk sat on the mossy stone steps at the foot of the sun-dial in the
middle of the court, one arm nursing his sword upon his knees, the other
embracing the lichen-covered pedestal against which he rested his head--
no bad representation of old Father Time taking a nap.

"Wish I could sleep like he does," growled Ben. "Nothing to do. Won