t they're
fine men and well armed. By Jove, they have two country fellows with
them carrying spare ammunition. I'll bet you a bottle of claret there
are cartridges in those cases."

He pointed to Hope and Neal.

"Ought to have a baggage waggon," said the officer, "or ought to put the
fellows into uniform. They might be damned rebels for all any one could
tell by looking at them."

"I'd expect to meet a rebel pretty near anywhere," said Major Barber,
"but, by God, I would not expect to find one marching in the middle of a
company of yeomen."

The yeomen passed and the infantry marched again towards Finlay's house.
Hope turned to Neal. Laughter was dancing in his eyes, but, except for
his eyes, his face was grave.

"Now," he whispered, "we've got to slip out of the ranks and make our
way into North Street."

As he spoke he lurched against the yeoman next to him and allowed the
bundle he carried to slip from his arm. The soldier cursed him for a
clumsy drunkard. Hope, in return, abused the soldier for knocking the
parcel out of his arms, and then called to Neal--

"Wait for me, mate, wait till I gather up my goods again."

He deposited his cartridge cases on the ground, went after the bundle
which had rolled into the gutter, and then, arranging his load slowly,
allowed the yeomen to march past.

"Did you hear Major Barber say that he'd be ready to bet that these
cases held cartridges? A sharp man, Major Barber! But there are more men
than him about with eyes in their heads. The next officer we meet will
be wanting to know where we are taking the cartridges. We won't have
another company of yeomen to vouch for our characters. I think, Neal,
we'd better get something to cover these up. There's a man here in
charge of a carman's yard who is sure to have a couple of sacks which
will suit us very well."

He passed under an archway, followed by Neal, and entered a small yard.

"Charlie," he cried, "are you there, Charlie?"

A young man emerged from one of the stables. He started at the sight of
Hope.

"Are you mad, Jemmy Hope?" he said. "Are you mad, that you come here,
and every stable full of dragoons' horses? They have them billeted on
us, curse them, and the villains are in the coachhouse polishing their
bits and stirrup irons. Hark to them."

"I hear them," said Hope. "Get me two of your oat sacks, Charlie, good
strong ones. I have goods here that want protecting from the sunlight."

The man cast a swift