“’Twill be the enemy far over yonder in the plain, where I can just make out black things to move,” said Hugh. “There look to be a many of them.”
“There’ll be fewer ere night,” Frank replied.
“Sure, we’ll scarce give battle so late in the day?”
“There’s time enough ’twixt now and sundown to trounce them roundly,” Frank answered cheerfully. “Come, let us go down and seek our people.”
They had gone barely a rod along the brow of the hill, when right behind them, deadened till now by the yielding turf, sounded the galloping of a horse. Glancing over his shoulder, Hugh got sight of a rider spurring in their steps with no evident intention of swerving, so he caught Frank by the arm and jerked him to one side, none too soon, for the horse’s nose almost grazed the boy’s shoulder. “Look how you ride!” Hugh shouted angrily. The horseman never deigned to look at him, but, with his dark face set to the front and the ends of his scarlet sash fluttering, shot by and disappeared down the hillside.
“Curse him!” Frank sputtered, “’twas a coward’s trick; ’twas like him.”
“Like who?”
“’Tis Philip Bellasis, a son of my Lord Bellasis. I pray his comb be cut some fine morning.”
“The Lord Bellasis who is of the king’s council?” Hugh asked, as they tramped along the hilltop, with ears alert now for more reckless riders behind them.
“Ay, a scurvy civilian,” Frank said, with extra swagger; “we of the army have no love for them nor they for us. Why, his influence came near losing my father his independent command. He would have lumped us in with my Lord Carnavon’s horse. Well, we’ll show to-day who’ll save the kingdom, meddling lawyers like Bellasis or soldiers like ourselves.”