"In the name of God, no!" shrieked the widow, who had followed in
pursuit and now darted forward. "Barnaby, my lord, he'll come
back--Barnaby!"

"Women in the field!" cried Hugh, stepping between them, and holding her
off with his outstretched hand. "It's against all orders--ladies
carrying off our gallant soldiers from their duty. Give the word of
command, captain."

The words, "Form! March!" rang out.

She was thrown to the ground; the whole field was in motion; Barnaby was
whirled away into the heart of a dense mass of men, and the widow saw
him no more.

Barnaby himself, heedless of the weight of the great banner he carried,
marched proud, happy, and elated past all telling. Hugh was at his side,
and next to Hugh came a squat, thick-set personage called Dennis, who,
unknown to his companions, was no other than the public hangman.

"I wish I could see her somewhere," said Barnaby, looking anxiously
around. "She would be proud to see me now, eh, Hugh? She'd cry with joy,
I know she would."

"Why, what palaver's this?" asked Mr. Dennis, with supreme disdain. "We
ain't got no sentimental members among us, I hope."

"Don't be uneasy, brother," cried Hugh, "he's only talking of his
mother."