So Prescott, without in the least intending to let his prisoner get away, did not venture close enough to risk being pitched over on his back himself.
"Poor old skylarker, too! I'm sorry for him," muttered Dick, under his breath. "I'm afraid this spells trouble for some yearling."
"What can I do, though? I show my own unfitness if I let anyone run the guard past me."
"Call again, sentry on three!" directed the voice of Corporal
Brodie.
"Here, sir," Dick answered.
Then to the spot ran the corporal, followed by two men of the guard.
"Two or more men attempted to cross this post, sir," Dick reported. "One tripped, and I'm holding him."
"Head him off, if he attempts to run ahead," directed Mr. Brodie, nodding to one of his men of the guard. "Now, then, get up, and let us see whether you're a cadet, or only a banker's son."
But the figure did not rise.
"Get up, sir, I tell you," ordered Corporal Brodie, slowly stepping past Prescott.