"I've seen 'em. I was behind 'em at first and followed 'em for a long
time before I guessed their purpose. Then I curved about 'em, galloped
through the woods, and rode on here, hoping for the lucky chance that has
come with you."

Harry, as he spoke, saw the eyes of the young captain leap and flame,
and he knew he was in the presence of one of those knightly souls,
thrown up so often in the war, most often by the border States. They
were youths who rode forth to battle in the spirit of high romance.

"You ask us to go back to the village and help defend the stores?"
said Philip Sherburne.

"That's just what I do ask--and expect."

"Of course. We'd have done it without the asking, and glad of it.
What a chance for us, as well as for you!"

He turned and faced his men. The golden glow of the sun was gone now,
but a silver tint from the twilight touched his face. Harry saw there
the blaze of the knightly spirit that craved adventure.

"Men," he said in clear, happy tones, "we've ridden for days and days in
quests that brought nothing. Now the enemy is at hand, nearly a thousand
strong, and means to destroy our stores. There are two hundred of you
and there are two hundred more guarding the stores. If there's a single
one among you who says he must ride on to Winchester, let him hold up his
hand."