“One division of it,” was the curt reply. “There's enough of it here for you to join, I guess, if you really mean business.”
The sentinel summoned the officer of the guard, explained matters to him, and then the officer conducted Dick into the encampment, and to a tent near its center. This was occupied by General Percy, and the officer of the guard entered and exchanged a few words with the general, who was writing at a little, portable desk, by the light of a candle, and then he emerged and said to Dick:
“The general will see you.”
Then he ushered the youth into the tent, at the same time announcing:
“Harry Fuller, General Percy.”
The British general looked up, eyed Dick sharply for a few moments, and then said:
“Well, Harry Fuller, so you wish to join the British army and fight for the king, eh?”
Dick had met the searching gaze of the officer unflinchingly, and now he answered promptly and firmly:
“Yes, sir; such is my wish.”
“Humph. How old are you?”