“I’ll be little Fear-not, with Tom Clifton along,” laughed Larry.
“In a couple of days you no more talk like that,” grumbled Teddy Banes. “I start for village this morning. We go together.”
This information had the effect of putting Tom in a very bad humor indeed. He wanted to get away from the sight of Teddy Banes’ sullen face; and to feel that he was going to have his company all day put a very frowning expression on his face. He was almost on the point of objecting, but, seeing that the announcement had no effect on his companions, refrained.
By the time the crowd had bidden Sergeant Erskine good-bye Stephen Stevens had the horses saddled and bridled. He saw to it, too, that the saddle bags were well filled.
The men who wore the scarlet jackets gathered around, as the horses, refreshed by rest and food, impatiently pawed the ground, or sought to pull away from restraining hands.
“Sorry you’re going so soon, boys,” said Farr. “Before leaving the country be sure to drop in and see us again.”
“You can just bet we will—and perhaps we’ll bring some news, too,” cried Tom, swinging into the saddle. “So-long, sergeant!” He waved his hand as the commanding figure of Erskine appeared at the headquarters door. “Whoop! Come on, fellows. The search begins.”
With farewells flung over their shoulders, the six riders galloped away, leaving the sullen, morose-looking Teddy Banes to follow at his leisure.
“Bah!” exclaimed the latter to Cole. “Make me sick. Why for you not tell them to go away?”
“Because I didn’t choose to,” laughed the other. “Besides, I reckon a few days traveling about with not a soul in sight but themselves will cure ’em of any hankerin’ to stay.”