116 A JACOBITE EXILE

“Very well, sir,” Charlie said, fearlessly. “He will be
only punishing his own officers. ‘There are plenty of them
in the King of Sweden’s hands.”

The general, when this reply was translated to him,
angrily ordered Charlie to be taken away, and he was soon
lodged in a cell in the castle. His head was still swimming
from the effects of the blow that had stricken him down,
and without even trying to think over his position he threw
himself down on the straw pallet, and was soon asleep. It
was morning when he woke, and for a short time he was
unable to imagine where he was, but soon recalled what
had happened. He had been visited by some one after he
had lain down, for a platter of bread and meat stood on the
table, and a jug of water. He was also covered with two
thick blankets. These had not been there when he lay
down, for he had wondered vaguely as to how he should
pass the night without some covering. He took a long
draught of water, then ate some food. His head throbbed
with the pain of the wound. It had been roughly bandaged
by his captors, but needed surgical dressing.

“T wonder how long I am likely to be before I am
exchanged,”” he said to himself. “A long time, I am
afraid; for there are scores of Russian officers prisoners
with us, and I don’t think there are half a dozen of ours
captured by the Russians. Of course no exchange can take
place until there are a good batch to send over, and it may
be months may pass before they happen to lay hands on
enough Swedish officers to make it worth while to trouble
about exchanging them.”

An hour later the door opened and an officer entered,
followed by a soldier with a large bowl of broth and some
bread.

“T am a doctor,” he said in Swedish. “I came in to
see you yesterday evening, but you were sound asleep, and
that was a better medicine than any I can give; so I told