The lad shook his head, glancing toward the carriage. The slight motion made me think again of the wounded man we were detaining, and reminded me as well of my own duty.
"Then, good-night, sir. Sergeant, we will trot on."
The lad touched my sleeve, even as I pricked my horse with the spur, and I drew the rein taut in surprise.
"What is it?"
"Could you not send your men forward, and ride with me a moment? You could catch up with them easily within a mile or two. I—I have a word I wish to say to you—alone."
The voice was low, tremulous; the request one I saw no reason to refuse.
"Why, certainly. Sergeant, take your men down the road at an easy trot. I will join you presently."
They went by us like shadows, leaving a cloud of dust behind. The boy spoke a brief word to those in charge of the carriage, and it also began to move slowly forward.
"We will go ahead," he said, suiting the action to the word. "What I wish to say will not take long."
Within a minute, riding side by side, our horses walking rapidly, we were out of sight of the lumping shadow of the ambulance. I glanced aside curiously at my companion, noting the outlines of his slender, erect figure, wondering vaguely what his message could be. Had Claire spoken to him of me? Was he going to tell me about his sister? We must have ridden a quarter of a mile before he broke the silence.