But the boy dashed through the open door, which swung to behind him.

"Call him back," cried the Captain, excitedly. "I must say good-bye, for we may never meet again. Stop; I am weak enough without that. I ought not to have come. Martin, old friend, remember. I trust you, and if fate makes him an orphan--"

"You have known me all these years, Carleton, and I have grown to love him as if he was my own. Trust me still, and--"

There was a quick footstep, the door was kicked open, and Phil rushed in, panting and flushed, with a large loaf under one arm and a basket in his hand, out of which the crisp brown legs of a roast chicken were sticking.

"Here, father!" he cried.

"Bravo! Good forager," cried the Captain, s.n.a.t.c.hing the provisions from the boy to throw on the table before clasping Phil to his breast in one quick, tight embrace.

The next minute he had thrust the little fellow into the Doctor's arms.

"Remember!" he cried aloud, and catching up basket and loaf, he bounded out of the open window and ran across the garden to the yard, where he had left his horse tethered to a post.

It seemed directly after that Phil was standing on the window-sill waving his hand and shouting, "Good-bye--good-bye, father!"

But his words were not heard by the Captain, who was urging his tired horse into a gallop.

It was none too soon, for a body of soldiers were coming at the double from the direction of the town, and with a cry of rage the boy whispered through his teeth:

"Look, there's Pierre running to show them the way!"

"Hush! Quick, Phil; we must go."

"After father?" cried the boy, joyously.

"No; we must make for the woods."

The old man hurried out by the back door, and then keeping under the shelter of fence and hedge, they made for a patch of woodland, which hid them from the Captain's pursuers.

"Let's wait here for a few moments to get breath," panted the old man.

As he spoke there was the report of a musket, followed by a scattered series of shots.

"What's that?" whispered Phil, excitedly. "I know; but they can't hit father, he's riding away too fast. Do you think they'll shoot after us?

I wish I had a gun."

"Why?" said the Doctor, smiling.

"Because I feel as if I should like to shoot at Pierre."

CHAPTER TWO.

The patch of woodland in which Dr Martin and his pupil were hiding was not large, and before long they had reached the farther side and stopped short to crouch down among the bushes, fearing to go out in the open country.

"They'd see us directly," said Phil. "There's another shot. I say, doesn't that show the soldiers haven't been able to hit my father?"

"Of course," said the Doctor, cheerfully; and then after listening while the firing kept on, sounding more and more distant till it stopped altogether, he held his breath in dread lest the boy should notice this and ask him whether the silence might mean that the French soldiers had at last hit either man or horse. But to the old man's great relief Phil took the silence to mean that the Captain had escaped, and was in a high state of excitement and showed his delight.

"They'll come after us now," he said, "but I don't care now father has got away."

"Then you wouldn't mind being taken a prisoner, Phil?" said the Doctor.

"Oh, yes, I should. It would be dreadful for you."

"And for you, my boy."

"Oh, I don't think I should mind much, Dr Martin. It would be good fun too."

"Good fun?"

"Yes," said the boy, with a merry grin upon his frank young face. "We should have no books, and there'd be no lessons."

"I could teach you without books, Phil," said the Doctor, gravely.

"Yes, I forgot that," said the boy. "Oh, what a lot you know!"

"Very little, my dear boy; but we cannot think about lessons now--we have to escape. We must not let the soldiers take us."

"Of course not; but, I say, Dr Martin, I don't think I understand it a bit. Why are the French and English going to fight?"

"I'm afraid it is because they consider themselves natural enemies, my boy. Your people have a great part of North America and my people have Canada. War has been declared, and King George's soldiers have come to take Canada from the French King."

"And that means fighting, of course," said Phil. "My father has come with his men to fight against the Marquis--Marquis--What did you say his name is?"

"Montcalm. The Marquis de Montcalm," replied the Doctor, "who is at Quebec."

"And my father's men are going to take Quebec away from him for the King of England."

"Your father's leader is General Wolfe," said the Doctor, smiling.

"Oh, yes, I know--General Wolfe," said Phil, eagerly. "But, I say, Dr Martin, shan't we be able to go back to the house--I'm getting so hungry?"

"No; I'm afraid we must not go back to the house again."

"But all our things are there."

"Yes, all our clothes, and my books."

"But what about dinner?" cried Phil.

"Ah, to be sure," said the old man, smiling, "what about dinner! You see, Phil," he continued, as he looked about in all directions over the open country, "your father said we were to get right away from the fighting, and after it was over he would come and join us."

"Yes, I know," said the boy.