CHAPTER IV

THE FLAG GOES DOWN--AND UP

On the sixth day of the siege Dick noticed that his lieutenant looked unwontedly serious.

"What is it, Giles?" he asked. "Anything wrong?"

Giles shrugged his shoulders.

"Little Captain," he said, "why don't our friends, the enemy, go away or attack us?"

"Go away?" Dick asked, for it had not struck him that cavalry might be better employed than in camping before a castle into which they could not seemingly get.

"I admit," Giles went on in his jesting way, "that the situation is salubrious, that the plain is well watered, and that the pasture for cattle is excellent. The view, too, of yonder hills is delightful, for men who have seen neither the Alps nor the Pyrenees. Your honour's cows, too, give excellent milk. Hark to the clatter of the pails in the hands of the Puritan dairymen! But, notwithstanding, to an unprejudiced, leisurely observer, it seems, in these tumults, our friends there might seek something more suiting their profession--unless, to be sure," he added, "the troopers are recruiting their health."

Dick drummed on the stones with his shoe-heels.

"I wish they'd attack us," he said.

"I want--" said Giles. "I know what I want, little Captain--"

"What do you want?" asked Dick.

"A man--one of those men," said Giles, stretching his hands towards the camp as if he would have picked up one of the Puritan soldiers that they could see in the meadow below. "Now, if I want a bird for the pot, I go out and shoot him."

Dick caught his hand.

"Let's go out and shoot a MAN!" he cried.

"We can't," Giles said with a despairing gesture. "How can we? Why, your little body wouldn't hold the bullets they'd send us."

Dick sighed.

"Bear up," said Giles, patting his captain's shoulder. "I'll load a musket there is in the hall, and go sit me in the room over the gate. Who knows, some carping pig of a Puritan may come past to bid us good-day."

He ran down the turret-stairs humming a tune, and Dick watched him presently cross the courtyard. There were two windows in the little room over the portcullis arch in the gate-house--one narrow slit, with an iron bar down the middle, looked over the moat, and one looked over the yard, and had a view of the leads and the flagstaff. Giles had sung two Cavalier songs to himself, and had, I think, almost forgotten why he was sitting there with a gun across his knees, when he became aware of a man crouching behind a low wall that flanked the castle orchard on the far side of the moat, well within range.

He had scarcely marked him before he heard a report, then a loud cry from the leads. Darting to the other window, he saw the flag drooping from the broken rope. The wind caught it, held it straight out for a moment, then down it came at a run, and sank out of sight behind the battlements. From down the meadow he heard a cheer.

"For which we will have payment," he said grimly. He sprang up the steps to the roof. The Puritan trooper had stepped out of cover, and stood mocking, waving his hand to the bare pole.

"He laughs best who laughs last," shouted Giles, with his gun at his shoulder. He fired, and the man fell as he laughed. Giles turned in time to see the flag fluttering up to the staff-head gaily. Dick had knotted the rope, and, looking across at a group of Puritans who were watching, he waved his hat to them, bowed--in careful imitation of the stableman's manner--and stepped out of sight.

"Of the right stuff," was Giles's comment, and he went down to meet his commander. "Of course," he thought, "he will absolutely require to tell me how he did it."

When Dick joined him, all he said was:

"Giles, what think you? They shot at our flag!"

"Very insolent, on my word!" Giles responded, and waited.

"But it's up still," said Dick, and he slipped his hand through Giles's arm, and smiled to himself.

"I saw," said Giles quietly. "It was well done. You're a captain for a man to serve under, Dick."

For a minute Dick was silent. Then he looked up.

"I've been thinking, Giles," he said, "that it is very foolish of me to lord it over you here. You've served in the wars, Giles, and you know so much more than I. It seems a great piece of absurdity. So here, I resign. And--let me see. Yes. Have this." He unbuckled his dagger. "It's all I've got, Giles. Let me fasten it on for you. What's the matter? Did I prick you with the point?"

Giles's eyes were suddenly lowered--almost shut, in fact--but Dick was sure he had seen something very curious about them. And it seemed impossible to find Giles's middle amongst his rags, for his hands were in Giles's hands; and--anyhow, between them, the dagger fell to the ground.

"Dick, I'd serve under you to the end of time!" Giles said gaily. "I wouldn't have you resign for an empire! Nay, don't talk of resigning. Zounds! my dear little fellow, I'm more proud of serving under you than under any one of my kings and dukes and great barons!"

Dick was convinced of the utter impossibility of giving up his post. Giles promised to help, to advise, to suggest; but command, no!

"But I'll keep your dagger for a keepsake, sir."

"Call me Dick," the boy cried affectionately.

"I'll keep it in memory of this day, Dick, then, and some day, perhaps, I'll give you something in exchange."

And there never was a more devoted, attached, considerate, unselfish couple of officers anywhere in the world. And if, forgetting his mightiness, the captain at times waited on the lieutenant, and the lieutenant at times rated the captain, and if they both laughed loudly at each other's jests, and played each other desperate practical jokes, there was no one to complain. They were prepared to stand by each other, living, in the face of every foe; and Dick, for one, had no higher ambition than to die in the esteem and affection of his lieutenant and stableman Giles.