Jack pointed dumbly to a clump of bushes, and stood aside.
“If you go, I’ll cut too,” he cried at last. “What do you suppose this old town means to me without you and the drum?”
“Well, follow lad.” Debby was fastening the drum round her body. “I reckon they will need all they can get; but here or there keep my secret, Jack, and in the end you will be glad.”
“I promise, Deb.” Two hands clasped in the gathering gloom, and then without giving the accustomed lesson, the new recruit ran through the little wood, and so was lost to sight.
All who went away, took that direction; once clear of the town instructions as to how to proceed might be asked; just now there was nothing to do but run.
Back to the village, with bent head and empty heart, strode Jack; and up in the little back room of Mrs. Lane’s orderly house, lay a heap of crumpled clothing; all that was left of Debby Mason who was soon to be known as the black hearted ingrate, too evil to be followed and striven for.
CHAPTER IV.
AND NOW WE COME TO MOLLY.
Footsore, weary, and hungry, a boy beating upon a drum, entered the headquarters of the bedraggled army entrenched on Prospect Hill.
“What do you want?” asked a man on duty.
“I wish to join the army and fight the foe. I can drum.”