“I know, my boy. There, we’ve kissed as women do; now shake hands like a man.”
Father and son stood for a few moments hand clasped in hand, and then without trusting himself to look back, the Major walked quickly through the tent door, just as a heavy boom announced that a fresh attack was near.
“Gone!” cried Phil, with a piteous cry and outstretched hands, but the next moment he drew himself up stiffly and marched to the Doctor’s side.
“Bravely done, my boy,” cried the old man, patting his shoulder. “Now then, your cap.”
“We’re not going away?” cried Phil, in dismay.
“Yes, directly.”
“But father won’t know where to find us again.”
“Yes, he will, for he says we are to join the doctors with the wounded men.”
“Then he will know? Yes, I shall like that. They are always so thirsty. May I take them some water to drink?”
“Indeed you shall, Phil.”