bring home the package--Sparrow,
who usually performed these errands, having injured his hand. At my
friend's request I was allowed to accompany him, and we set off in high
spirits, a number of envious "Foxes" and "Eagles" shouting after us as
we passed the playground wall.

Nothing of any importance happened till we reached the Sportsman,
where, having fastened up the pony, we went inside to inquire about the
parcel. It being the middle of the afternoon the little inn seemed
deserted. The only occupant of the taproom was a young country lad,
who sat on a big settle, just inside the door, munching a crust of
bread and cheese. He turned his head as we entered, and Miles
immediately accosted him with,--

"Hullo, Tom Lance! what brings you here?"

The lad was evidently confused at the meeting. His sunburnt face
flushed a deeper red, and he mumbled something which we did not hear.

"What brings you in this part of the world?" asked Miles. "Are you
tramping it all the way back to Stonebank?"

It had dawned on me by this time who the boy was and where I had seen
him before. I remembered now that he was an orphan, and in the employ
of Mr. Nicholas Coverthorne. He lived in the house, and made himself
generally useful about the farm. Miles had to repeat his question a
second time before he got any answer; then the boy, seeming to realize
that he could not avoid an explanation sooner or later, blurted out,--

"I'm on the way to Welmington, sir, to go for a soldier."

"To go for a soldier!" cried Miles. "You aren't old enough to enlist."

"I'm big enough, though," replied the boy with a grin; and this seemed
likely to prove true, for he was well grown, and might easily have
persuaded a recruiting sergeant that he was two years beyond his real
age.

"But what are you doing that for?" asked my friend. "Why are you
leaving Stonebank?"

Lance hesitated, toying with his huge clasp-knife, and moving uneasily
on his seat.

"Well, sir," he said at length, "I've run away. And it's no use your
telling Mr. Nicholas or the rest where I'm gone, for I ain't going
back, not if they send a wagon and horses to fetch me."

"I'm not going to tell my uncle," was the reply. "All I asked was what
made you leave."

"Well, sir," continued the lad, "the master's been so queer of late, I
believe he bears ill-will towards me for something, and that some day
he'll do me an injury."

By dint of many questions we at length got ou