“Yes, Ted’s to be a soldier. He’s doomed—or destined—to that career,” nodded Mr. Dunstan good-humoredly. “There’s a whole long story to that, Halstead. Perhaps you and Dawson shall hear the story later. But for now we’d better get up to the house.”
Master Ted evidently took this as a hint that the subject was to be pursued no further for the present, for he merely said in a very gracious way:
“Of course, I shall see you again. So now I’ll take myself off—with Sheridan.”
Resting his left hand through the bridle and gripping the pony’s mane, Master Ted used his right hand to strike the pony a smart blow over the rump. As the pony bounded forward the lad made a flying leap into the saddle. It was such a flying start as almost to startle Tom and Joe.
“He rides like a cowboy,” declared Tom admiringly, watching the mounted youngster out of sight.
“He has need to, I fancy,” replied Mr. Dunstan gravely. “That is, since he’s going into the Army, for Ted wouldn’t be satisfied with being anything less than a cavalryman.”
As Mr. Dunstan’s last words or the tone in which they were uttered seemed to dismiss the subject, Halstead and his chum knew that they were not to be further enlightened for the present. They followed their employer up to the house.
He took them into a roomy, old-fashioned looking library, with heavy furniture, and, excusing himself, left them. He soon returned to say:
“The family are now at luncheon, all except Master Ted, so I have given instructions to have luncheon served to us in here presently.”
In half an hour the meal was before Mr. Dunstan and the boys. It tasted rarely good after their hasty snatches of food aboard the boat. When it was over Mr. Dunstan took a chair on the porch, lighted a cigar and said: