“No, and that’s the odd part of it. You’d think they’d be angry at us.”
“Unless these people in the city belong to the party we’ve come here to protect,” Frank suggested. “It may be that, you know. The revolutionists may have jumped out for the time being.”
“Yes, that’s so. Well, it’s a queer go however it is. Say, I wonder if we couldn’t go out and take a look at those holes the projectiles made?”
“I guess so. We’d better find out how far it is, though, and if we’ll have time to go and get back.”
But when Frank spoke to the commanding officer the latter shook his head.
“It’s too far out there to begin with,” he said, “and for another thing—” he paused and looked around as though to make sure no one else was listening. “For another thing,” he added, “we’d rather none of our men went out there—just now.”
“Why?” impulsively asked Ned.
Again the officer looked around.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t mind telling you, because I can see that you are a little different from the general run of our recruits. Not that they’re not fine fellows, and all that,” he hastened to say, “but some of them have been handicapped in life, and they haven’t as much natural intelligence as they might have. But I don’t in the least hold that against them. They may be all the better fighters when it comes to a brush.”
“Do you think we’ll have a fight?” asked Ned, and his voice was eager.