Hark, what's that ?" "By God, it's guns, sir! There's fighting on!" "Fighting!" Dyck stood for a minute with head thrust forward, eyes fixed upon the distant mists ahead.

The rumble of the guns came faintly through the air.

An exultant look came into his face.
"Master, the game's with us--it is fighting! I know the difference between the two sets of guns, English and French.

Listen--that quick, spasmodic firing is French; the steady-as-thunder is English.

Well, we've got all sail on.