With intense interest, Lieutenant Fieldsend and George Fairburn heard, on landing in the Netherlands, of the great victory of Blenheim that had just been gained by the Allies under Marlborough, against the combined French and Bavarian forces, commanded by the famous generals Tallard and Marsin, and the two young soldiers hoped to learn more of the great fight when they reached the front.

“What a bit of ill-luck not to have been there in time, sir!” George exclaimed.

The boy had, during his stay in hospital at Lisbon, communicated with his parents at home, and, to his delight, had received their consent to his following the profession of a soldier.  “It is useless to stand in the boy’s way,” the elder Fairburn had said, “though I could have wished he had taken up almost any other trade.”  So the lad had no hesitation in thus taking service in the army once more.

When the two, in company with others, reached head quarters, Lieutenant Fieldsend presented the letter he held from Sir George Rooke, and was received with the utmost pleasantness by the great Duke.

“Humph, Mr. Fieldsend,” Marlborough began, when he had glanced over the contents of the short epistle.  “You are a lucky young fellow to have got Sir George’s good word.  But where is the lad he speaks of—­Fairburn, I see?”

“Just outside, your Grace,” was the reply, and at a nod the lieutenant fetched George in.

The Duke scanned the boy’s ruddy face and took note of his sturdy figure.

“My lad,” he began, “you have begun early.  Do you know what request Sir George makes in this note?”

“No, sir—­my Lord Duke,” George stammered in reply, his knees almost shaking under him.

“He recommends you for a commission as ensign,” the Duke said quietly, the boy standing almost open-mouthed.  “We will give you a short trial first, for as yet we don’t know you.  No doubt we soon shall.”  And the great man smiled.

He rapped smartly on the table and an aide-de-camp entered the tent, saluting.

“Here, Mr. Blackett,” Marlborough gave the order, “take this lad to your captain, who will see that he is enrolled in your company.”

The next moment George Fairburn was shaking the other hard by the hand, the astonishment on both sides too great to admit of a word between them.

CHAPTER VII

BLENHEIM

“Now I can thank you, my dear Fairburn!  We shall never forget it!” were the first words Blackett uttered, and he pressed George’s hand once more in his warm grip.

“Forget what, Blackett?” the other asked in surprise, “and for what do you thank me?”

“Surely you have not forgotten it all, my dear fellow—­Mary—­the fire—­your splendid rescue!”

“Ah!” cried George, “and you have been keeping that in mind all this time?”

“Not a doubt of that.  As I have just said, and repeat, we can never forget it.  From that day you became the dearest friend of our family, if you will let us call you so.”