“Remember!” he cried aloud, and catching up basket and loaf, he bounded out of the open window and ran across the garden to the yard, where he had left his horse tethered to a post.
It seemed directly after that Phil was standing on the window-sill waving his hand and shouting, “Good-bye—good-bye, father!”
But his words were not heard by the Captain, who was urging his tired horse into a gallop.
It was none too soon, for a body of soldiers were coming at the double from the direction of the town, and with a cry of rage the boy whispered through his teeth:
“Look, there’s Pierre running to show them the way!”
“Hush! Quick, Phil; we must go.”
“After father?” cried the boy, joyously.
“No; we must make for the woods.”
The old man hurried out by the back door, and then keeping under the shelter of fence and hedge, they made for a patch of woodland, which hid them from the Captain’s pursuers.
“Let’s wait here for a few moments to get breath,” panted the old man.