A Young Hero | Page 8

CHAPTER FIVE.
The sun was high when Phil woke next morning, to find the weary
Doctor sleeping still; but he started up at a touch, and hearing them
about, their hostess came and tapped at the door to say that breakfast

was ready, and later on when they stepped out she looked sadly at them,
for she had news.
"I woke at daylight," she said. "There were guns firing, and the fighting
has been going on ever since. Quick! Come and eat your breakfast and
go. It is not safe for that little fellow to be staying here."
Phil had no appetite to finish that breakfast. Before it was half done he
had started to his feet, to run to the door, full of dread for his father, for
one after the other came the reports of heavy guns in the distance, and
from much nearer the rattle of musketry, telling that instead of leaving
the terrible encounters far behind, either they had marched right
amongst it or the opposing armies had suddenly turned in their
direction.
There was no time to waste. The Doctor pressed money upon their kind
hostess, but she refused it angrily, and hurried them from the house.
"Go that way!" she said, pointing towards where the sky looked light
and clear, for away behind the house clouds were rising like to those in
a storm; but they were clouds of smoke slowly gathering above a city
miles away, and the gloom increased.
But Phil's hostess had not let him go away empty-handed.
"You'll want something to eat by and by," she said, and then the little
fellow looked at her wonderingly, her parting word sounded to his
English ears so strange, for she said "adieu" and not "good-bye."
"Walk fast, boy," said the Doctor, almost harshly; "we must rest by and
by."
They hurried on for quite two hours, and then, hot and weary, the old
man suffering as hardly as the boy, they slackened their pace, and once
more making for a patch of woodland, rested for a while in the shade.
But not for long.
"I can't hear the guns now," whispered Phil, after a long silence.

"No," said the Doctor, "I have not heard a sound for quite
half-an-hour."
"But where are we going now?"
The Doctor smiled sadly and shook his head.
"Where fate leads us, Phil," he said; "anywhere to be out of this terrible
work."
He had hardly spoken before the crash of many guns made them start to
their feet, Phil beginning to run out in the open in his sudden alarm, but
only to turn back directly and catch at the Doctor's hand.
"Ah!" cried the old man, drawing him in amongst the trees; "that was
running into fresh danger. Look!"
Phil was already looking at a line of men who seemed to have suddenly
started out of the ground a hundred yards away.
At the same moment the Doctor threw himself down amongst the thick
growth, dragging his companion with him.
"Lie close," he whispered, and it was well that they were both lying flat,
for there was a flash of light, a long line of smoke, and in response to a
sharp pattering sound a little shower of twigs and leaves came dropping
around.
This was answered by firing evidently from the other side of the wood
again and again, the reports each time sounding more and more distant,
while as Phil lay flat upon his face he could hear trampling and the
sounds of men hurrying among the trees right past them, two coming so
near that the boy wondered that they were not seen.
"Don't speak, my boy," whispered the Doctor, as he held Phil's hand,
though the words were not needed, for the boy's attention was so taken
up by the exciting events that surrounded him that he was all eyes and
ears for the next thing that should happen.

For the soldiers that passed on, firing as they went, seemed to receive a
check, and were driven back, filling the wood with smoke, which hung
low and seemed to cling to the lower branches of the trees. But the men
recovered their ground and passed on once more, the firing growing
more distant.
"Now," said the Doctor, at last, "let's try again, boy."
A sharp volley from another direction was followed by the pattering
down of more twigs and leaves, and the Doctor uttered a groan and laid
his hand upon Phil's head to press it closer to the ground.
"Are you hurt, Dr Martin?" whispered the boy, raising himself
suddenly in the fear that he now felt for the first time.
"No, no, my child. Lie still. We must not stir yet."
It was not till nightfall that they could venture to leave