“Yes,” said Phil. “I mean to show them to father some day and ask him to help me to send them. Ah! Here he is!”
For at that minute the Major hurried into the tent.
“Just to say good-bye to you, Phil, my boy.”
“Oh, father,” cried the little fellow, with his face clouding over; “don’t go away and leave me! You’re always saying good-bye.”
“Phil!” sternly.
“I forgot,” cried the boy. “Yes. I know. You’re going on duty. But you’ll not be long, father?”
“Not a minute longer than I can help, my boy. Now go. I want to speak to Dr Martin.”
“Yes, father,” and Phil ran to the opening of the tent door.
“You are not hurt?” cried Dr Martin, anxiously.