to us."

"And to keep us awake," yawned another.

"Or to keep us from thinking of to-morrow," said a third.

"Can nobody sing here, or play, or tell an old-time story?"

There was nobody. The only two soldiers of the post, who affected
musical skill, were the two who had gone up to the Carmelites' bivouac;
and the little company of Joppa--catching louder notes and louder, as
the bard's inspiration carried him farther and farther away--crept as
far up the stream as the limits of their station would permit; and lay,
without noise, to catch, as they best could, the rich tones of the music
as it swept down the valley.

Soothed by the sound, and by the moonlight, and by the summer breeze,
they were just in mood to welcome the first interruption which broke the
quiet of the night. It was the approach of one of their company, who had
been detached to Accho a day or two before; and who came hurrying in to
announce the speedy arrival of companions, for whom he bespoke a
welcome. Just as they were to leave Accho, he said, that day, on their
return to camp, an Ionian trading-vessel had entered port. He and his
fellow-soldiers had waited to help her moor, and had been chatting with
her seamen. They had told them of the chance of battle to which they
were returning; and two or three of the younger Ionians, enchanted at
the relief from the sea's imprisonment, had begged them to let them
volunteer in company with them. These men had come up into the country
with the soldiers, therefore; and he who had broken the silence of the
listeners to the distant serenade had hurried on to tell his comrades