"Do you belong to the army?" asked the waiter.
"No; but we expect to," answered Ralph.
The meal finished they were about to go, but Frisky danced about them.
"Poor fellow! we forgot him," said Alfred, giving the dog some scraps, which he speedily devoured. That meal sealed a bond of friendship, on the part of the dog, at least, and as they marched out the road to the east Frisky followed, dancing about them continually, and exhibiting his pleasure, dog-fashion, in his newly found friends.
"Is that a guard line ahead?" observed Ralph, as they approached a shed-like structure, and saw a group of soldiers with guns standing near.
"I suppose it is," replied Alfred. "Here is where we make a halt, I suppose."
Alfred was right. No one dared cross the line which extended north and south of the structure. It was the dead line, and there was no hope for them, so as there was no use to argue the matter they sadly turned back, retraced their steps through the village and without any prearrangement turned to the right.
"We might see something from that hill," said Ralph.
"That is just what was in my mind," remarked Alfred.
The narrow road was observed winding around the hill and going up diagonally. Half way to the hill, and at a point where there was a perceptible ascent, Frisky ran forward, barking furiously. He stopped at the remains of a ragged fence, beyond which was soon observed the ruins of a low building.