"How, now, fellow!" cried Borroughcliffe; "what have you to say to your
charge!"
"I believe the men sleep, your honor; for I have heard no noises from
the rooms since I relieved the last sentinel."
"The lads are weary, and are right to catch what sleep they can in their
comfortable quarters," returned the captain. "Stand to your arms,
sirrah! and throw back your shoulders; and do not move like a crab, or a
train-band corporal; do you not see an officer of horse coming up? Would
you disgrace your regiment?"
"Ah! your honor, Heaven only knows whether I shall ever get my shoulders
even again."
"Buy another plaster," said Borroughcliffe, slipping a shilling into his
hand; "observe, you know nothing but your duty."
"Which is, your honor----"
"To mind me, and be silent. But here comes the sergeant with his guard:
he will relieve you."
The rest of the party stopped at the other end of the gallery, to allow
the few files of soldiers who were led by the orderly to pass them, when
they all moved towards the prison in a body. The sentinel was relieved
in due military style; when Dillon placed his hand on one of the doors,
and said, with a malicious sneer:
"Open here first, Mr. Sergeant; this cage holds the man we most want."
"Softly, softly, my Lord Chief Justice, and most puissant Cacique," said
the captain; "the hour has not yet come to empanel a jury of fat yeomen,
and no man must interfere with my boys but myself.
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