“Want of proper vedettes, my lad. These people know nothing about war. But they can fight.”
“But I mean, how was it you rode away and left the troop?”
“Because I couldn’t help myself, my dear boy. By the time I had whipped out my sword about twenty of the beggars were round, cutting at me and giving me all my work to guard myself; but I managed to get in a few points.”
“Are you wounded?”
“It would have gone hard with me if some of our friends, seeing what a mess I was in, had not made a dash to help me.”
“But are you wounded, Wyatt?”
“They charged splendidly, and took off some of the black-looking rascals’ attentions, and this gave me a chance to make a few more points, for I dared not attempt to cut.”
“But I asked you if you were wounded?” said Dick anxiously.
“Then there we were at it in a regular running fight, in which I was carried right away, growling savagely at being cut off from my friends. I’d have given anything to have had you and old Stubbs there with his long reach. You were better out of it.”
“Are you going on like this to annoy me or to keep something back?”