“Of course not,” assented Jones. “We know that you intend to take French leave, but it is all right, and if there is any way in which we can help you, we hope you will not hesitate to say so.”
Huggins did not seem to be fully reassured by these words. The pallor did not leave his face, and the visitors noticed that he trembled as he seated himself on the edge of his bed.
“I am obliged to you, but I don’t think I shall need any assistance. This will see me through the lines, will it not?” said Huggins, pulling from his pocket a piece of paper on which was written an order for all guards and patrols to pass private Albert Huggins until half-past nine o’clock. The printed heading showed that it was genuine.
“Yes, that’s all you need to take you by the guards,” said Jones. “And when half-past nine comes, you will be a long way from here, I suppose.”
“I shall be as far off as my feet can carry me by that time,” replied Huggins. “But don’t tell any one which way I have gone, will you?”
“If you were better acquainted with us you would know that your caution is entirely unnecessary,” said Jones. “But you are not going to walk two hundred miles, are you? Why don’t you go by rail?”
“How can I when I have no money?”
“Are you strapped?” exclaimed Enoch. “I can spare you a dollar.”
“I’ll give you another,” said Jones, looking at Lester.