"I'm going to join the army. It's time I was doing my share."
Tom gave no other reason. He knew the children would be safe at Benzeor's, and with what Little Peter then had it in his mind to do it would perhaps be unwise to tell him all he knew. However, he intended to tell him all, and that soon.
"Going to join the army?" repeated Little Peter, as if he did not comprehend the words.
"Yes; you know I've been thinking of it a long time, and now that they're on the march, and coming this way, I've made up my mind that my turn has come. I didn't know but you would want to go, too, now."
"I'd like to, but I can't. I've got this other matter on hand. Come into the house, Tom, and spend the night with me. You can start in the morning as well as now, and besides it's almost dark. You can't go in the night."
Tom hesitated, but finally consented, and with his friend went into the house which so recently had been the scene of the greatest sorrow which had ever entered Little Peter's life.
Indian John followed them, but after his custom refused to remain, although he promised to return early in the morning. One of the women of the neighborhood had stayed to look after Little Peter's immediate wants, but as soon as her duties were done she departed for her own home with an eagerness she could not entirely conceal. And Tom did not blame her, for he himself was not without fear when at last Little Peter closed the doors for the night, and, after having slipped the heavy bars into their places, the two boys sought their bed in the low room over the kitchen.
IT was long before daylight when the boys were stirring on the morning which followed the events recorded in the preceding chapter. No one had disturbed them, and with the return of the day their courage was somewhat revived. Tom, however, had decided to start at once for the army, which he knew from Indian John's words was not many miles away. He was thoroughly familiar with all the roads in the county, for he had ridden over them many times in company with Benzeor, or when he had been sent on errands to the more remote regions by his foster father, and consequently had no fears of losing his way.
Little Peter did not urge his friend to accompany him on his expedition to Refugee Town, for he was aware of the perils that were likely to beset him on his journey. He would not listen to any of the protests of Tom, for he was fully determined to learn what had become of his father, and even share his experiences if the occasion demanded. And Tom could not find it in his heart to blame Little Peter, hopeless as he considered all his efforts likely to be. Perhaps he would do the same thing if his own father had been carried away by the pine robbers, and he found himself conjecturing how it was a boy would feel in such circumstances as those in which his friend had been placed. The feeling was one of which he knew nothing by experience, and his own loneliness seemed to press upon him with a heavier weight.