“We were attacked front and rear, weren’t we?”
“That’s it, sir. Trapped.”
“It was all my fault, I suppose,” said Fred, with a sigh.
“Fault, sir; not it. Nobody’s fault. People can’t do impossibilities. Why, there was sixty-five of ’em in the troop, and of course they regularly rode us down!”
“But you did see something of the fighting?”
“To be sure I did, sir.”
“Did—did I disgrace myself, Samson?”
“Did you what yourself, sir? Come, I like that! If digging your spurs into your horse, and shouting to us to come on, and then going to work with your sword as if it was a scythe, and the pleasaunce hadn’t been cut for a month in June’s disgracing yourself, why, I suppose you did!”
“Then I did fight?”
“Fight! I should think you aid.”