Lawrence and Leon held a consultation that night, and it was determined that if they could get Randolph paroled they would take him back to St. Louis with them, for Leon had already been granted a furlough.
The parole was easily secured, but a week passed before they considered it safe to move Randolph. The journey back was safely made and Leon, in spite of his bandaged head and wounded arm, was nearly smothered with kisses.
Lawrence found that Mr. Hamilton had not yet returned; in fact, he had met with an accident, and it would be several days before he could travel. What was to be done with Randolph? That was the question.
"Bring him with me," said Leon. "I want someone to fight with while I am getting well, and fighting with tongues is not as dangerous as with guns."
"Where are you taking me? This is not home," exclaimed Randolph, as the ambulance stopped before the Laselle residence.
"No," replied Lawrence. "Your father has met with a slight accident, not severe, but enough to detain him for several days. So we have brought you to Mr. Laselle's. Leon wants you for company. You two can fight your battles over while you are convalescing."
"But—"
"Not a word. Just think of what a nurse you will have. I almost wish I was in your place."
Randolph smiled and made no more protestations.
Lawrence could hardly help envying Randolph, who had found a haven of rest for at least some weeks, while he must once more face the hardships and dangers of the tented field.