Nat gazed up in assumed astonishment at the two excited faces that bent over him. He knew that the dwarf was safely away, and all his native coolness returned to him.
“What now, my lad?” demanded one of the horsemen, a puffy faced captain of light infantry. “Where are you going?”
“I’m on my way home,” answered Nat, innocently enough.
“I think,” said the puffy faced captain, “you’d better delay that for awhile and come back to the barracks. A few words with you may do no harm.”
“Very well,” agreed Nat, promptly.
And with that he turned and started back over the road he’d just traveled. His willingness to do what was demanded of him seemed to take the two officers by surprise; the second of them, a lank youth with vacant eyes, drawled:
“Why, this fellow is too wooden-headed to be dangerous, captain. That lad must have been hoaxing us.”
“It’s not for us to judge of that,” replied the puffy faced man, who seemed a competent officer. “Major Pitcairn told us to bring him back, and that’s what we are going to do.”
“Oh, of course,” the lank youth hastened to say. “We’ll do that surely.”
So Nat was marched back within the British lines. Where but ten minutes before there had been laxity and careless superiority, all was now tense excitement and bustle. The group of officers were in the saddle; guards were being placed at many points where it had never been deemed worth while to have them before. Scowling looks met the boy as he trudged calmly along before the two riders.