The tables were fairly turned now.

The wretched Patrick, whose conscience had more than once smitten him about the way in which he had become possessed of me, looked the picture of terror--not at the bayonet, but at the man who held it.
He drew me from his pocket with trembling hands, and holding me out at arm's length, cried,-- "Arrah, arrah! take him, gineral, take him.

How was I to know you was the gentleman dropped him there?
Who'd have--" By this time Charlie had seized me and taken me to the light.

In an instant he stripped me of my coat, and there, with bounding heart, read his own initials, scratched years ago with his own boyish hand, in the dormitory of Randlebury.
"It _is_ it!" he shouted; "my old watch! Who would have thought it possible!" Then turning to the trembling Paddy, he said, in a voice almost unsteady in its eagerness,-- "My man, what will you sell me this watch for ?" Paddy looked more astonished than ever.
"Sure it's your honour's own." "It was once, but it's yours now.

But I'll give you a ten-pound note for him and a gold watch besides if you'll let me have him back." Imagine Paddy's astonishment.
"Sure Duck Downie says it's not worth thirty shillings--" "Who cares for Duck Downie ?" shouted Charlie, pulling out his purse.
"Here's the money, and if you come to Lieutenant Newcome's tent when you are off duty you shall have the watch." And so saying, and not waiting for another word, he darted off, with me still in his hands, leaving Paddy fairly stupefied with amazement, and with only presence of mind enough left to pick up his rifle and make a royal salute to the retreating form of my first and last and dearest master..