“It was understood between us——” the boy got this far when the man interrupted him.
“Have the goodness not to interfere with my work, Prentiss,” said he, sourly. “This is no time for boyish notions.”
“But you promised that no one was to be injured!” There was a note of pleading in the lad’s voice; he clutched the stirrup of the officer and held tightly to it.
Chesbrook laughed.
“If you were fool enough to think that matters of this kind,” with a wave of the hand at the marching column, “could be carried through like a tea-party, it is no fault of mine.”
Nat saw the boy stare up at the speaker, his face suddenly drawn.
“Then,” said he, slowly, making almost the same gesture as the other, “this means war?”
“Of course it does!” rapped out Major Pitcairn. “The king’s troops exist for the purpose of making war.”
Before the boy could make reply, an officer came hastily from the inn.
“No one there but the servants and such,” complained he.