“He escaped from that action,” said Arthur, who, now that the truth was out, grew voluble like a child making a confession, “by being sent on in front with a few men. They escaped notice, while the larger body was attacked and massacred.”
“Who told you this?”
“I do not know. I cannot tell you his name.”
“Arthur!” exclaimed Mrs. Agar nervously, “are you going mad? Do you know what you are saying?”
In reply he gave a little laugh like a sob.
“Oh yes,” he replied, “it is all right. I know what I am saying, though sometimes I scarcely believe it myself. If it was a hundred years ago one might believe it easily enough, but now it seems unreal.”
“Then where is Jem? Was he taken prisoner? Those men are savages, aren't they? They kill—people when they take them prisoners.”
“No, he was not taken prisoner,” said Arthur. Sometimes he lost patience in a snappy, feminine way with his mother.
“Oh! tell me, tell me, Arthur dear! You are killing me!”
“I will, if you will let me. It appears that Jem had made himself a name out there for knowing the country and the people, which is useful to the Government, because Russia and England both want the country, or something like that; I don't quite understand it.”