“Yes,” he said, roughly; “there has been fighting just yonder, if you look for it; but don’t, boy. I want to get on gently again, and to find some sign of a farm, or peasants’ hut. We must have food of some kind if we are to do our work. Let’s get a little farther on, and then I must forage.”
“Yes,” said Marcus, sadly. “It seems waste of time, but it must be done, I suppose. But why not let the ponies browse a little here? See, they have already begun.”
“Because it will be of no use for us to look about here.”
“Of course not,” said Marcus, hastily, and he stood looking hurriedly round, to see for the first time that all along the edge of the forest which should have been bordered with fresh green bushes, was broken down and trampled, while not far from where he stood fire had been doing its work, and a large portion was blackened stump and skeleton-like stem.
Chapter Twenty Eight.
Marcus’ Promise.
“Seems to me, my lad,” said Serge, “that we ought to have been started on this journey two days earlier.”
“Yes, Serge,” replied Marcus, in a despairing tone. “It’s maddening. Here have we gone on, almost starved, never getting a proper night’s rest—”