CHAPTER IX.
A PRISONER.
The party round the fire were just about to disperse when the captain of Vincent's troop approached.

He took the horn of spirits and water that Vincent held up to him and tossed it off.
"That is a stirrup-cup, Wingfield." "What! are we for duty, captain ?" Vincent asked as he rose to his feet.
"Yes; our troop and Harper's are to muster.

Get the men together quietly.

I think it is a serious business; each of the regiments furnishes troops, and I believe Stuart himself takes the command." "That sounds like work, indeed," Vincent said.

"I will get the troop together, sir." "There are to be no trumpet calls, Wingfield; we are to get off as quietly as possible." Most of the men were already fast asleep, but as soon as they learned that there was a prospect of active work all were full of life and animation.