“That I cannot exactly answer; but from what I can learn it seems that you were found prying rather too closely into the affairs of some friends of mine, and they pounced upon you and carried you off.”
“Yes, and I’ll pounce upon some of them,” cried Hilary, “and carry them off.”
“When you get your liberty,” said Sir Henry with a smile.
“Yes; when I get my liberty,” cried Hilary; “and that sha’n’t be long first. Even now my commander will be searching for me.”
“Very likely, Hilary,” said Sir Henry; “but you must be very hungry. I have only just learned of your being here, and that you had not been attended to. The habits of my friends here are somewhat nocturnal, and hence they are irregular by day. Come, sit down, man, and eat. We campaigners are not so particular as some people.”
He seated himself upon the straw as he spoke, and looked up so frankly and with such friendly eyes at the young man, that Hilary was slightly softened.
“Adela is here,” he said.
“Yes, I know; I have seen her this morning, Sir Henry.”
“Seen her! Oh, yes, I see—from the window. But come, fall to.”
Hilary glanced at the chicken and the bread, and felt disposed to resent his rough treatment, especially as just then the donkey brayed loudly, and fired off a salute of kicks against the side of the shed where he was confined; but there was a specially tempting brown side to that chicken, which looked tender and seductive, and Hilary argued that he should not be able to stand long upon his dignity if he starved himself, so he seated himself tailor-fashion beside the tray, and began to carve.