“Hush! He’s not here. He went out after you went to bed. He’s been away all night. Oh, Robbie, look here!”
She took his hand and led him to the window of her room and pointed out into the road. Distinctly, in the moonlight, he saw a man in uniform, carrying a gun, pacing back and forth along the road in front of the house. Then she took him to the hall-window, and showed him another soldier leaning carelessly against the garden fence, with his eyes fixed on the rear of the house.
“There are four of them,” she said. “They came a few minutes ago. I saw them come down the road. They have surrounded the house.”
“But, father,” repeated Bob; “where’s father?”
“Hush, Robbie, hush! They won’t find him. They think he’s here in the house, but he isn’t. He left it long before they came.”
“But, where is he, mother? I insist on knowing.”
“Don’t talk so loud, Robbie. You’ll waken Louise. They’ll hear you.”
“Did he go to the woods, mother? to the barn? to the shop? where?”
“Hush! my boy, hush! Don’t whisper it. He went to the shop. He’s in—Robbie, listen, he’s in the windmill tower. He has his gun with him, and his revolver. He’s going to—to—”