There was no getting into the town now, and the growling thunder of a
cannon might now and then be heard. Jeph would have liked to spend
all his time on the hill-side where he could see the tents round the
town, and watch bodies of troops come out, looking as small as toy
soldiers, and see the clouds of smoke, sometimes the flashes, a
moment or two before the report.

He longed to go down and see the camp, taking a load of butter and
eggs, but the neighbours told his father that these troops were bad
paymasters, and that there were idle fellows lurking about who might
take his wares without so much as asking the price.

However, Jeph grew suddenly eager to herd the cattle, because thus he
had the best chance of watching the long lines of soldiers drawn out
from the camp, and seeing the smoke of the guns, whose sound made
poor Patience stay and tremble at home, and hardly like to have her
father out of her sight.

There was worse coming. Jeph had been warned to keep his cattle well
out of sight from any of the roads, but when he could see the troops
moving about he could not recollect anything else, and one afternoon
Croppie strayed into the lane where the grass grew thick and rank,
and the others followed her. Jeph had turned her back and was close
to the farmstead when he heard shouts and the clattering of
trappings. Half-a-dozen lean, hungry-looking troopers were clanking
down the lane, and one called out, "Ha! good luck! Just what we
want! Beef and forage. Turn about, young bumpkin, I say. Drive
your cattle into camp. For the King's service."

"They are father's," sturdily replied Jeph, and called aloud for