look down
at the ranks of soldiers as they marched along, five abreast, the road
was not wide enough to hold more. They had been allowed to keep their
weapons, so the officers had their swords, and the men carried their
musquets. Most of them looked dull and dispirited, and the officers had
very gloomy, displeased faces. In fact, they were very angry with their
commander, Colonel Fiennes, for having surrendered so easily, and he was
afterwards brought to a court-martial for having done so.

Stead did not understand this, he thought only of looking under each
steel cap or tall, slouching hat for Jephthah. Several times a youthful,
slender figure raised his hopes, and disappointed him, and he began to
wonder whether Jeph could have after all stayed behind in the town, or
if he could have been hurt and was ill there.

By-and-by came a standard, bearing a Bible lying on a sword, and behind
it rode a grave looking officer, with long hair, and a red scarf, whom
the lads recognised as the same who had preached at Elmwood. His men
were in better order than some of the others, and as Steadfast eagerly
watched them, he was sure that he knew the turn of Jeph's head, in spite
of his being in an entirely new suit of clothes, and with a musquet over
his shoulder.

Stead shook the ash stem he was leaning against, the men looked up, he
saw the well-known face, and called out "Jeph! Jeph!" But some of the
others laughed, Jeph frowned and shook his head, and marched on. Stead
was disappointed, but at any rate he could carry back the assurance to
Patience that Jeph was alive and well, though he seemed to have lost all
care for his brothers and sisters. Yet, perhaps, as a soldier he could
not help it, and it might not be safe to straggle from the ranks.

There was no more fighting for the present in the neighbourhood. The
princes and their army departed, only leaving a garrison to keep the
city, and it was soon known in the village that the town was in its
usual state, and that it was safe to go in to market as in former times.
Stead accordingly carried in a basket of eggs, which was all he could
yet sell. He was ferried across the river, and made his way in. It was
strange to find the streets looking exactly as usual, and the citizens'
wives coming out with their baskets just as if nothing had happened.

There was the good-natured face of Mistress Lightfoot, who kept a
baker's shop at the sign of the Wheatsheaf, and was their regular