"I shall always honour it," I said, half unconsciously.
"And the men who bear it!" he added.
"That is very different," I said, wearily, and turned my head on the pillow.
When I looked again he was folding the flag and placing it in the chest of drawers, smiling quietly to himself. Doubtless he thought me loyal to the King whose armies bore the flag my father died for. But I was too tired to argue further.
"There is one man I would like to see," I said, "and that is Mr. Duncan. Will you send to the guard-house and beg him to come to me, doctor?"
"Ay, that I will, lad," he said, cheerily, picking up his hat and case of drugs. "And, by-the-way, your regiment of Border Horse will be here in a month. You will doubtless be content to see the gallant troopers in whose ranks you will one day serve, please God."
"Perhaps," I said, closing my eyes.
I must have fallen into a light sleep, for when I unclosed my eyes I saw Mr. Duncan beside me, looking down into my face. I smiled and raised one hand, and he took it gently in both of his strong, sun-browned hands.
"Well, well, well," he muttered, smiling, while the tears stood in his pleasant eyes; "here is our soldier home again—that same soldier whom I last saw in the guard-house, having his poll clipped by honest Wraxall, à la coureur-de-bois—eh?"
I motioned feebly for him to find a chair beside my bed, and he sat down, still holding my hand in his.