"There you are," he said, gruffly, "and a nice job I've had to get it.
Eat away, youngster, and thank your stars you haven't swallowed musket
balls for sugar-plums as you came here. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself, old man," he continued, turning to the Doctor, "for bringing a
boy like that amongst all this gunpowder, treason and plot. No, no; I
don't want to hear you talk. Eat your supper. I've something else to
do."

Dr Martin sighed as the sergeant swung out of the tent.

"Wait till father comes," said Phil, "and I'll tell him all that the
sergeant said. I suppose he can't help being so stupid as to think we
are spies and wanted to come here."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

It was not till weeks had passed, during which Phil and Dr Martin were
shifted from place to place, always strictly guarded, their place being
in the misery and discomfort of the baggage train, that the day came
when, dirty, ragged, and weary, Phil sat by the side of the Doctor in
one of the waggons, watching the marching by of a strong detachment of
the little brigade. Dr Martin had tried in vain to send messages,
written and by word of mouth, to the Captain, but no one would act as
bearer.

Phil, too, had tried his best, but he could hear no news of his father,
and there were times when he questioned the Doctor as to whether he
thought he had failed to escape on that terrible day when Pierre gave
information to the French troops and the long-continued firing of the
pursuers had been heard. And so it was for a time that when Phil was
tired out after one of the weary marches and no rations were served out,
his heart sank and the tears came to his eyes as he believed that he
should never see his father again. But, on the other hand, when the sun
shone brightly and he was rested and refreshed by the rations that had
been served out, he chatted away cheerfully to the Doctor about how he
would tell all their adventures to the Captain when he came.

And then that happy day dawned when he sat in the baggage waggon
watching the powder-blackened soldiers urging on the horses drawing the
heavy guns, followed by a mud-stained tattered regiment, which stepped
out smartly, every man looking ready and willing to commence the attack
to which he was bound. These passed on and another regiment followed,
the sight of the brave fellows sending a thrill through the boy, making
him lean out from beneath the waggon tilt to take off his cap and cry
hurrah.