“Yes,” said Tim; “and the girls can’t keep their tears back. I say, couldn’t we all make an attack upon them in their camp?”
“And be speared,” cried Rifle. “No; there are too many of ’em. They’d drive us back and get into the house, and then—Ugh!”
The shudder he gave was echoed by his companions.
“I was thinking whether it would be possible on horseback,” said Norman.
“No, my boy,” said the captain, who had overheard their remarks; “it would be too risky, I dare not. What is the matter with the black?”
“I have not seen anything,” replied Norman.
“Nor you, boys?”
Rifle and Tim were silent.
“Speak!” said the captain, sternly.
“I thought as Rifle does, uncle, that Shanter seems to be getting tired of fighting. He always wants to be asleep in the day now, and is sulky and cross if he is woke up.”