As he spoke there was the report of a musket, followed by a scattered series of shots.
“What’s that?” whispered Phil, excitedly. “I know; but they can’t hit father, he’s riding away too fast. Do you think they’ll shoot after us? I wish I had a gun.”
“Why?” said the Doctor, smiling.
“Because I feel as if I should like to shoot at Pierre.”
Chapter Two.
The patch of woodland in which Dr Martin and his pupil were hiding was not large, and before long they had reached the farther side and stopped short to crouch down among the bushes, fearing to go out in the open country.
“They’d see us directly,” said Phil. “There’s another shot. I say, doesn’t that show the soldiers haven’t been able to hit my father?”
“Of course,” said the Doctor, cheerfully; and then after listening while the firing kept on, sounding more and more distant till it stopped altogether, he held his breath in dread lest the boy should notice this and ask him whether the silence might mean that the French soldiers had at last hit either man or horse. But to the old man’s great relief Phil took the silence to mean that the Captain had escaped, and was in a high state of excitement and showed his delight.