“Well, that’s what I didn’t get quite clear, you see, sir. But it’s some’at like this. Every man has—I don’t quite remember what it was he said there, but I do recollect he said that if things were not altered, we should have to fight.”
Fred looked at him wonderingly.
“I should have got it all quite pat, you see, only just as I was getting into the marrow of it and understanding it all, that captain sent for me, and give me the big letter I’ve got in here. And now I must hurry on.” For the top of the hill was reached, and the pony broke into a sharp trot without urging.
But Fred kept hold of the mane, and ran easily by his side, coming soon after in sight of Colonel Forrester, standing at the garden gate, evidently waiting for his messenger’s return.
As soon as he saw them descending the slope, he walked quickly forward to meet them, holding out his hand for the despatch, and looking so anxious and severe that his son forbore to speak.
“Take the cob round to the stables, and treat him well,” said the colonel, sharply, as he tore open the missive and began to read.
Fred felt eagerness itself to know its contents, and he was about to stop, examining the missive the while with eager eyes; but, recollecting himself, he went off at a trot after Samson, who had dismounted, and was leading the pony.
“Hope it’s good news, Master Fred.”
“I dare say it is. I don’t know.”
“The captain said I was a gardener, wasn’t I; and I told him the truth, and said I was.”