CHAPTER VI
AN OLD MAN MASTERFUL
Deventer and I came upon Rhoda Polly while we were getting our breath after the rush upstairs. We were old friends, and Rhoda Polly did not even put aside her rifle to greet us.
"Come from school without leave—run away—good!" she exclaimed. "Have you made it all right with father?"
"Not yet—that is—the fact is—-we thought you might as well come along with us, Rhoda Polly."
"You think there will be a storm, Hugh?"
"Sure of it, but at least you can tell the Pater that Cawdor here is no prodigal. He comes with his father's blessing and a whole pile of paper money."
"Father is among his entrenchments on the roof," said the girl; "better wait till he comes down. He is never quite himself when he is up there and the wind is blowing. Now tell me what made you run away?"
"We are going to enlist among Garibaldi's volunteers, and fight for France—at least that's what Cawdor says. But I mean to stay here till all is safe for mother and you."
At this moment Rhoda Polly nudged us. There was a sound of heavy decided footsteps grating on the steel ladder which led to the roof, then a thump and the noise of feet stamping on the floor above us.