“No,” replied the old soldier, though it was more like a grunt than a reply.
“What are you watching for, then? Not stones? It’s getting smoother, and we’re going on at a nice steady rate now.”
“Yes, boy, we’re going along at a nice steady rate, but I want to know where to?”
“Where to?” cried Marcus, quickly. “Why, to find the main army, and deliver the message.”
“Yes, boy,” growled the old soldier; “but where is the main army?”
Marcus stared at his companion for a few moments in complete astonishment, before gazing straight in front between the tossing manes of the cantering ponies, and then looked to right and left.
“I don’t know,” he said, at last. “Somewhere in front, I suppose.”
“Somewhere in front, you suppose!” grumbled Serge. “But where’s that? Nowhere, I say. We shall never come up with them if we go on like this. We may be getting farther away at every stride.”
“Oh, Serge!” cried the boy, excitedly.
“And it’s O, Marcus!” growled the old fellow, sourly.