'
'Claude was in a superfine condition then--in awe of an old Sandhurst
comrade. He would be gild enough to see the old brown bag now, poor
fellow,' said Lady Merrifield, tenderly.
So it went on, with merry chat and a good deal of real preparation,
till the early darkness came on, and a great noise in the haul
announced the return of 'the boys,' among whom Lady Merrifield still
classed her colonel brother. They were muddy up to the eyes, but they
had seen a great deal more than was easy to understand in their
incoherent accounts. Wilfed had rolled into a wet ditch, and been
picked out by his uncle and hung up to dry at a little village inn,
where--this seemed to have been the supreme glory--they had made a meal
on pigs'-liver and bread-and-cheese before plodding home again--losing
their way under Wilfred's confident pilotage--finding themselves five
miles from home--getting a cast in a cart for the two little boys just
as Fergus was almost ready to cry--Colonel Mohun and Jasper walking
alongside of the carter for two miles, and conversing in a friendly
manner, though the man said he knew the soldier by his step, and
thought it was a pool-trade. Finally, he directed them by a short cut,
which proved to be through a lane of clay and pools of such an adhesive
nature that Fergus had to be pulled out step by step by main force by
his uncle, who deposited him on some stones at the other end, and then
came back to assist the struggles of Wilfred, who was slowly proceeding
with Jasper's help.
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