"It's only snapping of a pistol, mother, pooh! If I'm not afraid, you oughtn't to be."
"I give you my honor, Mistress Ramsay," said Robinson, "that I will bring or send your son safe back in one hour; and that he sha'n't be put in any sort of danger whatsomedever; come, that's a good woman!"
"You are not deceiving me, Mr. Robinson?" asked the matron, wiping away a tear. "You wouldn't mock the sufferings of a weak woman in such a thing as this?"
"On the honesty of a sodger, ma'am," replied Horseshoe, "the lad shall be in no danger, as I said before—whatsomedever."
"Then I will say no more," answered the mother. "But Andy, my child, be sure to let Mr. Robinson keep before you."
Horseshoe now loaded the firearms, and having slung the pouch across his body, he put the pistol into the hands of the boy; then, shouldering his rifle, he and his young ally left the room. Even on this occasion, serious as it might be deemed, the sergeant did not depart without giving some manifestation of that light-heartedness which no difficulties ever seemed to have the power to conquer. He thrust his head back into the room, after he had crossed the threshold, and said with an encouraging laugh. "Andy and me will teach them, Mistress Ramsay, Pat's point of war we will surround the ragamuffins."
"Now, Andy, my lad," said Horseshoe, after he had mounted Captain Peter, "you must get up behind me. Turn the lock of your pistol down," he continued, as the boy sprang upon the horse's rump, "and cover it with the flap of your jacket, to keep the rain off. It won't do to hang fire at such a time as this."
The lad did as he was directed, and Horseshoe, having secured his rifle in the same way, put his horse up to a gallop, and took the road in the direction that had been pursued by the soldiers.
