OUTPOST DUTY.--THE SERGEANT'S STORY.--GRAND ROUNDS.


It was a bitterly cold winter. The soldiers drank a great deal, and John
Broom was constantly trotting up and down, and the box grew very heavy.

Bottles were filled and refilled, in spite of greatly increased
strictness in the discipline of the garrison, for there were rumours of
invasion, and penalties were heavy, and sentry posts were increased, and
the regiments were kept in readiness for action.

The Highlander had not cured himself of drinking, though he had cured
John Broom. But, like others, he was more wary just now, and had
hitherto escaped the heavy punishments inflicted in a time of probable
war; and John Broom watched over him with the fidelity of a sheep dog,
and more than once had roused him with a can of cold water when he was
all but caught by his superiors in a state of stupor, which would not
have been credited to the frost alone.

The talk of invasion had become grave, when one day a body of men were
ordered for outpost duty, and M'Alister was among them. The officer had
got a room for them in a farmhouse, where they sat round the fire, and
went out by turns to act as sentries at various posts for an hour or two
at a time.

The novelty was delightful to John Broom. He hung about the farmhouse,
and warmed himself at the soldiers' fire.

In the course of the day M'Alister got him apart and whispered, "I'm
going on duty the night at ten, laddie. It's fearsome cold, and I hav'na