“A brave and sturdy lad you are, David,” he declared, “and I would I had one like you. You are well and unharmed of those varmints? But an hour ago I got word of your coming from one who saw you by Sudbury and I ate my supper in such haste that it liked to choke me. And you, Master Lindall? You, too, it seems, have escaped from the wolves. But I see not Obid. Can it be that he has—has—”
“Nay, then, master,” responded Obid from the shadow wherein he sat, “the Lord brought me safe through, but whether to so continue or whether in postponement of a direful fate I know not yet.”
“You are as cheerful as ever,” laughed William Vernham.
“What I have been through, master, and the sights my eyes have beheld make not for cheer.”
“Well, well, and now what for you, David? Of a surety you will have no mind for digging the garden and milking and such like tasks since you have tasted of a soldier’s life!”
“I know not,” replied David, “It shall be as my father says, though, an I had my wish—”
