“Why, of course, Samson,” said Fred, thoughtfully.
“No,” added Samson, “I don’t think I could go so far as that.”
“And if Scarlett Markham were here,” thought Fred, “I believe I could grasp his hand, and be like a brother again, as in the past.”
“Wonder where we are going, and whether it means another fight, sir?” said Samson, after a pause. “Look, sir!—the colonel. Master’s waving his hand.”
Fred saw the motion, and trotted up to his father’s side.
“Fred, my boy, do you know where we are making for?”
“No, father!”
“Home.”
“Oh, father!” said Fred, with his pale face flushing. “I am glad.”
“Oh, Fred, my boy,” replied his father, seriously, “I am very sorry.”