“It rather depends,” said Andrew, “upon the amount of resistence we may encounter.”
“It’s to be hoped there’ll be a jolly lot,” said Jack.
“But please remember,” Fay ventured to say, “that you must not behave like a horde of savages. After all, the bird is not your property, and if you want to set it free, you must start by offering to buy it.”
“I think,” said Andrew, grandly, “you may leave us to conduct the matter so as to preserve our own honour. And now,” turning to Hubert, “you valet, wind your horn and assemble our lieges.”
The horn was a tin pipe, from whose slender interior, at the expense of much puffing, Hubert managed to extract a thin shrill note.
Phil and Jack being already on the field, that summons would have been the merest formality, had Gaston not been allowed to respond to it.
But to Marygold’s delight, when poor little Delzant came flying across the paddock in answer to the horn, he was graciously permitted to set forth in company with his brothers-in-arms.
“There’s a short cut across the fields,” began Phoena, but a frown from Faith stopped her.
“No short cuts for us,” replied Andrew, who privately hated fields which might hold cattle of uncertain temper, “we march to glory on a straight and open road.”
“Hear, hear,” from the rest of the company.